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theprissythumbelina · 8 months

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So you want to write about horses.

Part 2 now out!

Or you're writing and horses show up. Or its a pre-industrial fantasy and your characters have to get somewhere. Or you have a faint idea of your MC's love interest showing up on a white stallion.

Whatever the cause, you're writing, and a horse appears. But you know nothing about horses. I can help.

This is a horse. Horses come in many sizes.

^ Big Jake, a Belgian Draft horse, and a roughly 5 foot woman for scale.

1 hand = 4 inches = 10.16 cm

Once a horse is smaller than about 14.2hh, it is generally considered a pony. In the modern day, ponies are not considered suitable for adult riders due to weight and height issues. Some pony breeds, such as Welsh, Fjords, ect. are known for being sturdy, and can more easily carry adult sized humans. Miniature horses should never be ridden by adults.

^The only suitable 'riding' a miniature horse should do

The above graphic mentions that horses are measured from the top of the withers, not the top of the head. But, what are withers?

The withers are where the horse's shoulders meet the spine, and the neck becomes the back. Withers are incredibly important for saddle placement, as a badly placed saddle in this area can prevent a horse from moving its legs properly, cause a large amount of pain, and even damage a horse's spine. Speaking of spines, this is a horse skeleton, with the withers pointed out.

Horses have four legs. Horses cannot have any fewer than four legs. They are obligate quadrupeds. This is, in part, due to their weight, as well as the construction of their legs and hooves. This is to say, that while cats, dogs, and other animals can be amputees, a horse, short of some incredible magic solution, cannot. Even a broken leg bone will cause a huge amount of problems, as all of the weight that leg would usually hold must be shifted to the other feet, and this causes a condition called laminitis, where the tissue that holds together the hoof and the toe bone becomes inflamed, and begins to separate. Once this happens, the hoof tissue dies from lack of blood, and the bone begins to rotate. This is extremely painful for the horse, and so often the best solution for a horse with a broken leg is to be spared that pain. Famous American racehorse Barbaro experienced a complex broken bone, which began to heal fine, but complications from laminitis in two of his other legs caused him to be put down. This is why media will almost always show a horse with a broken or injured leg being 'taken care of'.

^Barbaro, in his prime. Even the best veterinary medicine couldn't save him.

Now, racehorses like Barbaro are moving at the fastest speed and the fastest gait of the horse, the gallop. The patterns that horses move their feet are referred to as gaits, with most horses having four, with some breeds having five or more.

The first gait and the slowest is the walk. In the walk, all four feet move independently, which leads it to be called a four-beat gait, as the footfalls make a sort of drumbeat on the ground.

The next gait is the trot, a two beat gait with diagonal pairs of legs moving together.

^Diagonal pairs marked in red and blue

The trot is a very bouncy experience for the rider, and can be uncomfortable. Some riders will rise and fall with a pair of diagonal legs, called a posting trot, some will stand in their stirrups, called a two-point or jump position, and some will sit the trot, which requires a lot of core strength (seriously, if you want a strong core, screw the gym)

The third gait is the canter, a three-beat gait with a single diagonal pair. This gait is ridden sitting, and feels a lot like going over waves on a jetski. There is a rise, a scoop, and a fall feeling. The canter is also called a lope in Western riding, they are the same gait.

^diagonal pair marked in red

A gallop is sometimes considered a variation on canter, as it is similar save for the legs actually moving in a four-beat pattern. As you can see with the image of Barbaro, all four of his feet are moving in different patterns, at different times, even though the gallop is really a four beat version of the canter. Riders in the gallop rise off the horse's back into a raised position, which allows the horse to use the full length of its spine and musculature to get as much reach and speed as possible. It feels like riding on top of a train barreling down the tracks, at least until your horse takes an unexpected turn and the ground is suddenly the only thing you're riding.

^ I've been there. The trick is to push away and hit the ground rolling, it hurts less that way. And don't land on your head.

That's all for this post. I'll have more when I feel like it, and send me questions if you want to know more about specific things or need a writing question answered

Reblogs welcome and encouraged

@jacqueswriteblrlibrary for wider reach

#writing #writing horses #writer advice #how to write #writing advice #writing help #writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr community #writers #writerscommunity #horses #basic horse things

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randomshyperson · 1 year

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Mess is Mine - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Being divorced from Wanda Maximoff implies never getting over her.

Warnings: (+18), language, brief smut, divorced ladies who are very still much in love with each other, unspecified age gap, marriage going wrong, hopeful ending, mild angst, fluff.| Words: 3.949k.

A/N-> There's this divorced couple in a Brazilian soap opera with so much chemistry in their scenes together because of the intimacy gained during marriage (even though that didn't work out) and they won't leave my tik tok ; at some point, my brain thought about this fic. I would love to write more of this trope in the future.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Wanda had a persistent migraine, and the pile of work in front of her was not helping.

Still, all her stubborn brain could focus on instead of her real job was the stupid headline of the gossip magazine on her desk.

A cheap and badly angled photo of her ex-wife with colorful captions that read 'The newest business killer couple?" and dozens more insinuations about a secret high-society romance made her stomach churn.

Wanda tried not to be affected by the gossip, but you looked so happy in the photo that she couldn't help it.

The sudden opening of her door made Wanda jump in her seat, in one quick pull close the magazine and sigh with relief when she saw it was only Natasha.

"Why are you here?" Her long-time friend and co-worker asked. Wanda frowned in confusion.

"It's still my company..."

Nat rolled her eyes, walking into the office and taking long strides to her desk. "I meant in here, smarty-pants. The event is starting in an hour, the staff wanted some words of encouragement or something."

Wanda sighed wearily, massaging her forehead with one hand. "Can't you do that for me, Nat? I gotta make some calls."

Nat hummed in agreement, but her gaze caught the closed magazine on the table and she raised a brow at her friend. "One of those calls includes your ex-wife, I suppose."

Wanda chuckled dryly, taking the magazine out to one of the drawers and adjusting herself to reach the desk phone. "There's nothing else for me to say to her."

Her friend hid a smile that said that she didn't believe this one bit. "Okay, whatever you say. See you later, boss."

Wanda waved goodbye, with the phone to her ear. Her immediate instinct was to dial known numbers but she shook her head to push that ridiculous idea away and went back to work.

Several hours after the peak of the event when the company was filled with guests, from potential clients to journalists looking for any news like vultures at the carrion, Wanda was at her second glass of champagne, trying to keep the rest of her patience intact after having answered so many questions for gossip magazines regarding the headline from earlier in the day.

She absolutely did not want to discuss a possible romance between her ex-wife and the heiress of Bishop Industries.

Years before, any of them would have been afraid to question her about something so ridiculous, but that was before you came along. And melted your way into the Business Ice Queen, the untouchable Wanda Maximoff, or whatever insensitive nickname they invented about her back then. Before breaking down all of Wanda's walls, making her a better person, and of course, before you left her.

It was definitely the alcohol's fault that she was thinking about this, and with these stupid tears welling up in her eyes. Wanda swallowed all the emotion, burying it deep and making sure that no one had noticed her broken expression. With an excuse to a group of investors who were boring her into a corner, she retreated to an area far away from the company's outdoor gardens, taking a deep breath to calm herself. The beautiful view of the state lake was most welcome.

So of course the reason for her almost minor breakdown had to show up wearing her favorite suit.

"Are you running away from your guests, Maximoff?" Your tone was casual, the smile provocative. She snorted to herself, crossing her arms and keeping her eyes on the lake. You didn't mind, walking over to her at a slow pace until you were beside her on the edge.

"I just needed some air." She merely replies. With one hand in your pockets, you adjust your own hair, and Wanda hates that she can smell the shampoo, her body betraying her and shuddering as if your scent were addictive.

"You're avoiding me today." You comment lightheartedly, studying her face. "I arrived an hour ago and it took me almost all this time to find you."

Wanda forced a smile, finally facing you back, but her angry look made you hesitate. "I thought your chaperone was keeping you busy."

You glanced back at the party, stealing a quick check on Kate at the food stand, chatting with a blonde girl, before turning your attention back to Wanda.

"I forgot how hot you get when you're jealous."

Wanda huffs away, her cheeks burning which she tries to hide by staring at the lake. "Don't even start." She warns between teeth.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, but don't insist. You turn your attention to the lake as well. "I wanted to let you know that the boys have already arrived in King Cross. I spoke to them and Charles on the phone."

"I know, Pietro texted me." She retorts more harshly than she meant to and bites the inside of her cheek as she sees you lower your head in upset. With a sigh, she mumbles, "I meant, thanks for letting me know."

You smile, nodding before turning your gaze back to the party. "What do you think of Miss Bishop?"

Wanda locks her jaw; How dare you honestly. A list of curses lays ready on the tip of her tongue, but she remembers where you two are, and takes a deep breath. You were clearly trying for some kind of reaction from her, and she's not going to let you have this victory today.

"She's beautiful." Wanda replies. "As young as you were when I met you."

You chuckle shortly, raising an eyebrow at her. "What are you implying, Maximoff?"

Wanda shrugs her shoulders softly, turning to leave. "You're quite clever, Y/N, I'm sure you follow." She hits back, but you step forward into her path. You are suddenly too close, and Wanda finds herself holding her breath. She needs to take a step back to avoid stopping breathing for good.

Your eyes stare into theirs. "Not that this is any of your business, darling, but my relationship with Kate is strictly professional."

You assure her in a low tone, and Wanda swallows hard as your gaze moves down to her lips for a long moment before focusing on her eyes again. A smile forms on your mouth next. "Besides this, I've always had a thing for older women."

Wanda sighs heavily, using all her mental control to pull away at once. "Go pay attention to your chaperone, Y/N. Especially if she's a potential client."

You roll your eyes at the business tip; you already know them by heart, the vast majority learned from Wanda. And your ex-wife makes mention of leaving, so you slide your hand down her forearm gently, taking some amusement in seeing the way she shivers.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, Wanda." You let her know, with a serious tone but a tender look. The redhead swallows dryly at the closeness of your faces now that you're standing side by side, your hands connected. "Later, after the party, okay?"

"I-I..."

"It's important." You assure her, knowing her hesitation is so as not to break your agreement about relapses. With a gentle expression, you insist, "Please, it won't take more than five minutes."

She licks her lips, and you almost kiss her. Lucky for her she agrees and walks away because God knows you would have done it, right there in that garden for all the New York reporters to have a week's news about.

Without Wanda's perfume around you, you take a deep breath and try to clear your mind, having to wait a few more minutes in the garden for your heart to stop beating so fast.

As the event nears its end and Wanda needs to give a closing speech, you say goodbye to Kate before the parking area. You ignore all the journalists who try to insinuate something about you having taken the girl to the car and exchange a glance with Wanda in the small crowd before moving toward the elevator.

Wanda has always known you so well, and with a nod, she knows exactly where she has to go.

Her work floor is completely deserted as she makes her way to her own office. But she still closes the door as she enters, letting out a tired laugh at your figure sitting on her armchair.

Her smile fades when she sees what you are reading.

"Headlines nowadays are getting creative..." You wryly chuckle, laughing at your ex-wife's caught expression. "It says here that I might have an eye to the Bishop's fortune. How silly, you gave me almost half of yours in the divorce, why would I need more money?"

"Very funny." Wanda dryly retorts, reaching up to snatch the magazine from your hands with a tug, and raking the item into the trash afterward. She crosses her arms as she looks at you. "What did you want to tell me?"

You flashed a small, sideways smile. "You used to be more polite when you wanted to sleep with me. At least offer me a drink."

Wanda chuckled dryly, rolling her eyes and begrudgingly moving to the personal bar in the corner of the room. If she leaned over more than necessary to grab one of the whiskey bottles, aware that the position in the chair gave you a full view of her ass, neither of you said anything about it. She hid her satisfied smile as she heard your breath hitch at the image, and you hid your own reaction as you cleared your throat and looked away.

Shortly thereafter, two shots of whiskey were served on the glass table in front of you. But before the toast, you declared:

"I'm leaving."

Wanda frowned, and when you made mention of taking the glass, she placed her hand on your forearm. "Speak."

You chuckled, staring her in the eyes. "I closed a contract with the Ten Rings folks. They want me in Korea for the next four months."

Wanda lets go of your arm as if she had been burned and steps away from the table with an indecipherable, but very disturbed expression.

"B-but the boys.." She tries to formulate, but you rise from the armchair with a sigh.

"They'll be at school." You retort, even though firm, your gaze is almost pleading. For what, Wanda doesn't have the heart to wonder. "It's not as if they stay with us all the time, Wands. The boarding school takes up this time quite well. It will only be four months, and they've already invented the telephone and internet, you know?" You try to joke, but Wanda hugs her own body and faces you.

"Why are you here, then? You've traveled before."

"Not for that long." You say, taking steps toward her, and mentally thanking heavens that she doesn't pull away. "And not... not since we made the divorce official."

"Y/N..."

"I know, I know." You murmur with a sad smile, raising your hands to her arms uncovered by her dress. "Maybe it's stupid, but I wanted to make sure we're okay. That it won't be something...I don't know, that hurts us."

"More than a divorce? I find that difficult." She replies with restrained emotion in her husky voice. You sigh.

"Wanda..."

"No, you're right. It was stupid." She cuts off, pulling away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Of course it's okay. But I appreciate that you respect the concept of shared custody. I imagine the kids already know?"

"Yes, I told them before I took them to the airport." You mutter upset, watching Wanda walk away to the window. "But Wands, I wanted to tell you in person..."

"And why is that, huh?" she retorts with an impatience that makes you flinch. And for this, Wanda loses it for good. "You know, I don't understand you! You left me! You filed for divorce, you wanted to break us up. But you keep showing up here, and at home, and everywhere, and now you want to come here and say you care-"

"I care, Wa-"

"Then why did you leave me?" she shouts back, almost regretting it when she sees the tears in your eyes. You laugh tearfully, shaking your head.

"We've had this conversation dozens of times, Wan." You say, much calmer than she is. "But you just can't accept that you're wrong, can you?"

"Right, I forgot that I'm the villain in your story." She sneers, wiping her face with the back of her hand. You give another sad laugh.

"I wish it were that simple, darling." You tell her, taking slow steps toward her. "If you were just the villain, the bad wife, the evil boss, everything would be easier. I could hate you, curse your names to all my friends, and spend all the divorce money on expensive, empty things out there, but it's not like that. You forget the part that I love you and tried to fight for us until the last second."

Wanda sobs quietly, looking down at the floor, "Don't do that, Y/N."

"But it's true, baby, you know. I'm not the one who broke any promises, Wands. I just got tired of begging for crumbs of attention from the person who swore to spend the rest of her days with me."

Wanda lifts her chin, and the determination in her gaze doesn't do justice to the tears. "You knew how much my career meant when you said yes."

You smile sadly, taking one last step to get close enough to hold her face. Wanda shudders as you wipe away her tears, as you have done so many times before, as if no time has passed and everything was fine.

"I am so proud of you, Wands, for all you have accomplished with your work. I only wish I had been as important as this building."

You place a long kiss on her forehead, pulling away afterward. You offer her one last sad smile before closing the door on your way out. Wanda starts to cry as soon as you have done so, even though she tries very hard to keep her tears away.

–//–

You burned a pancake to answer the door, but all the irritation over the ruined dish vanished when you saw Wanda standing in front of you.

It had only been a few days since you had last seen her, and now all the furniture in your apartment was already packed away and covered with rags, prepared for the time you would be away. Wanda's party dress gave way to a casual suit that made you swallow dryly and become self-conscious of the sweatpants and sports top you were wearing. Wanda wouldn't have picked anything better.

"Are you going to let me in, detka?" Wanda asked with some teasing for your moment of shock. You immediately recovered, making room for her to enter and closing the door once she was in the hall. "Sorry for disturbing your breakfast. I wanted to see you before your flight."

"Oh, don't worry about it. And I'm not going until the afternoon." You clarified somewhat clumsily by her presence, one hand still holding a spatula and the other adjusting your hair. "I made pancakes if you'd like..."

"I would love it." Wanda assured with a smile that made your stomach twist. It wasn't fair that your ex-wife got more beautiful every time you looked at her, honestly.

Wanda followed you back into the kitchen, and to both your surprise, you fell into a light conversation about work and the boys while preparing and serving food, completely different from the tone of the conversation the last time you had seen each other.

But it was a time bomb, of course, so you weren't surprised when Wanda suddenly bit her lip, assuming a more tense posture.

Finishing chewing your pancakes, you asked:

"Why are you here, sweetheart?"

Wanda raised her eyes to you, and you stared back at her, patiently for her to clarify.

"I wanted to say goodbye to you properly." She said, spinning her own stool around first before tipping her hands around yours to spin you toward her. You raise a brow in curiosity, but the question of what she was doing dies in your throat as she leans in and brings your lips together.

It has been exactly three months, eighteen days, and sixteen hours since you last kissed Wanda, and you only realize how much you missed the feeling when she does it again. It's as intoxicating as it is overwhelming, and you gasp into her lips, breaking the kiss at once as you stand up, taking good steps away from the countertop.

"Wanda, we talked about this." You remind her in a husky voice, pressing a hand over your face. It's ridiculous how much your skin is burning and your heart is racing for something that lasted less than three seconds. "No relapses. You promised-"

"It's not a relapse." She assured, reaching up and grabbing your hands to place them around her waist. You grunted at the sensation, closing your eyes as Wanda slipped hers over your shoulders, too close for you to think about anything other than her. "It's a parting gift. So you'll have a reason to come back."

"W-what...?"

Wanda presses closer and brings her mouth to your ear. "Just stop overthinking it and accept the gift, detka."

With encouragement, she bites the lobe of your ear, and you give up resisting.

With a tug on her waist, you bring your mouths together in a kiss much hungrier and more passionate than the first, which elicits loud, almost primal moans of need from both of you. Wanda pushes and pulls, and by the time you stumble to the back of the living room couch, your pants are already open and there's nothing covering your torso; much like the woman in front of you, who as soon as she throws you sitting up against the cushions, your breathing out of rhythm and your lips swollen from kissing hard, makes a show of removing the rest of her clothes.

She has time to smile mischievously at your look of pure adoration at her completely naked body in front of you before you pull her onto your lap by her thighs. Wanda climbs on you with a needy grunt, burning from the inside out in anticipation for you to touch her again.

Your touches are almost desperate, your kisses mark her skin. It is your gift, but you also seem determined to make sure that Wanda has the memory of this morning for quite some time.

When your mouth closes around her nipples, she whimpers to the ceiling, arching her back and steadying her hands in your hair, a soft plea that you not stop.

"Yes, baby, just like that." She encourages over the stimulation on her nipples, breaking into an excited whimper when you simply use your free hand to masturbate her. At any other time, you would have taken your time to work her up until she was begging for your touch, but now, in the urgency you two were sharing, it wasn't necessary. She was ready for you.

Your fingers penetrate her without delay, and Wanda digs her nails into your shoulder, breaking into a breathless moan. You give one last hickey on her hardened nipple before you move your face back up to hers, kissing her with intensity as your fingers dance inside her walls with the mastery of one who has done this a dozen times, one who knows her like the palm of the hand she so deliberately grinds against in the intention of relieving herself.

"G-god, detka! Right here!" She breaks the kiss into an affected moan, practically meowing as you repeatedly hit that sensitive spot inside her. The wetness grows in your palm, Wanda oozes into you, and to help her, you bring your free hand to her hip, coordinating her movements as she begins to fail. "I-I'm going to..."

"Don't talk, show." You interrupt her with a proud little smile, moving your mouth down to bite the sensitive spots on her neck. "Come to me, baby, I've got you."

That's all she needs to reach the first climax of the morning, and she is not surprised that you don't stop at the first. Or the second, or the third.

You are on your knees on the living room floor when your first alarm goes off. Breathing as out of breath as Wanda, on the couch with her torso exposed and her legs spread from which you against your will need to remove your face to turn off the alarm when you pull away.

She covers herself when you disappear to the kitchen because she knows it's because of the flight, and when you return, the cell phone goes on the coffee table and you sit on the floor next to her on the couch.

There is a long silent pause, where only your breaths can be heard. Wanda skirts a hickey on her own thigh and you sigh.

"We shouldn't have..." But you can't complete, it because your voice fails you as if you are going to start crying. You look away, and Wanda lets herself fall to your side on the floor, where she reaches for your hand.

"Detka, look at me." She asks, and you have to wait a moment until you sniffle and do so with difficulty.

"I told you it hurts me, Wands. I can't-" You take a deep breath. "I can't heal if this keeps happening. There’s no getting over you if we keep doing this”

She shakes her head. "I don't want you to get over me." She says and you huff, trying to pull her hand away, but Wanda squeezes. "I love you, you know I do."

"Love is not enough." You retort bitterly, your eyes filled with tears. "Loving me doesn't mean you won't hurt me. Nor that you won't ignore me. Those are just words, Wanda. I haven't felt loved by you in a long time."

She releases your hand from the shock of your words, and watches you create a physical distance between you as you walk away. You slip away to the bedroom, muttering that you need to get ready for the flight, and she tries to make a decision the whole time you are in the shower.

When you return to the room, wearing a set of travel clothes, Wanda is wearing your sweatpants and her own dress shirt. Your chest aches to see her wearing your clothes again.

"Wanda, you'd better go, my flight-"

"I love you, detka." She cuts you off with eyes bright with determination as she stares at you. You swallow dry, but can't resist when Wanda reaches up to touch your face. "I will make sure you know it. You'll know it so deeply that you'll be able to feel it in your bones. And you'll never doubt it again."

You sniffle lightly. "Wanda..."

"Don't worry about it now, detka." She interrupts you more gently, caressing your face. "Have a great trip. I'll be here when you come back home."

You sigh, and Wanda doesn't let you say anything more, kissing you in a calmer, but somehow much more intense way than before.

She leaves the apartment before you, with a wink and a request that you call the boys before and after the flight.

And even before she gets to the first floor, Wanda has already texted Natasha about her early retirement procedure after her well-deserved family vacation.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #marvel imagines

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swampgallows · 11 months

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do you have advice on how to find a mask for someone who legit, for real has difficulty breathing through one? i get badly congested because of the build up of humidity/moisture (plus a deviated septum), so then i have to remove the mask to blow my nose every 10 seconds which obvi defeats the purpose. i've tried to do research but i'm having trouble finding answers to this specific query. since you seem knowledgeable i would really appreciate any pointers if you have them. thank you.

hi! first of all thank you so much for wanting to mask despite the difficulties. second, i want to mention that im not a science or medical-type person of any kind, just a high-risk civilian trying to stay alive through the ongoing pandemic.

with the widespread non-industrial use of respirators in dealing with covid, there are manufacturers that have been looking for more comfortable, casual options while still offering adequate filtration. however many of these kinds of masks are either quite expensive, perpetually hard to acquire/sold out, or aren't fully NIOSH-approved (or equivalent standard). so my recommendations will be for only NIOSH-approved headstrap N95s.

since you have a structural condition (deviated septum), finding a breathable mask that fits your face without agitating your sinuses is essential. you'll want to be sure it's large enough that it's not pinching or putting too much pressure on your nose bridge. some users in the Masks4All subreddit have said saline rinses and BreatheRight strips can alleviate congestion issues, along with the right kind of mask. exploring a variety of mask shapes may help you!

finding a well-fitting respirator is difficult because there is no "one size fits all", but the 3M Aura 9205+ comes close! it's available in many areas and fits a wide range of faces. this is the mask i use. the "tri-fold" shape allows me to talk or laugh without compromising the seal or brushing against my face, compared to a typical "cup" shape N95. they also come individually wrapped, so it's easy to keep one in your car or bag, or distribute to others.

according to many who are "still coviding", the most breathable masks are the "duckbill" shape like the Gerson 3230+. I personally haven't tried them myself as I'm put off by the shape, but many duckbill wearers say that they easily overcome this "flinch" once they feel how comfortable it is, and that it's their go-to mask for extended wear or strenuous activities like the gym.

a more standard shape said to be close to the comfort of the duckbill is the 3M 9105 VFlex. It still has a larger silhouette than the Aura, but the duckbill look is less pronounced. "bi-fold" mask shapes like the BNX N95 can also put less pressure on your nose and allow more breathing room while keeping a slimmer profile.

you can also try something like the Readimask, a strapless mask that adheres to your face with medical adhesive (think like a band-aid). these can be a little more expensive, but you can order a free sample pack for sizing purposes (free plus shipping, mine was only $5 in the US) and see if it works for you.

if you feel that the humidity/moisture is more of an issue than your septum, you may also want to look into valved masks, but be warned: masks with an exhaust valve only protect the wearer, and not the people around you. reserve these only for situations where you will be one-way masking. particles cannot enter through the valve, but particles you exhale exit into the ambient air. however, if you are in a situation where you find you are the only person masking and everyone else is breathing unfiltered air anyway, a mask with an exhaust valve is fine. reusable elastomeric respirators often have exhaust valves, but there are disposable versions too, like the 3M Aura 9211+ above.

"mask nerd" Aaron Collins has a full demonstration and overview of many of these masks in his most recent video. He also discusses earloop masks if you prefer those:

youtube

you can also view AccuMed's Mask Testing Data and sort by lowest to highest breathability (lower numbers indicate the pressure drop = better breathing). This doesn't have every mask on the market (for instance, it's missing the VFlex), but it does have many common brands/models. Aaron Collins also made his own spreadsheet of over 200 masks he fit-tested himself.

i hope this gives you a launchpad to find something that works for you!

#masking #still coviding #covid #covid is airborne #covid is not over #anon #ask #long post

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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A Broken Sort of Normal Part 8

WC:1175 Masterpost

Wherever they stopped was completely dark and definitely outside. As a cool breeze blew past, Danny was very glad he listened and had brought a jacket.

“You know,” Danny said as he climbed off Flash’s back. “It’s a good thing that you’re a hero, because this has mild serial killer vibes.”

“What?! No no,” Flash stammered before he dashed around the area.

Lights bloomed behind him as he ran, illuminating the space. They were in a field of some sort, standing on the foundation of a long gone building. The prairie grasses caught and sparkled in the light of the various lanterns that Flash had turned on. A cozy looking pile of blankets and a few pillows sat in the center of the foundation. Flash stopped next to it, shifting nervously on his feet.

“I, um. So there’s a meteor shower tonight!” Flash rushed to explain, the words almost garbled with how he was practically vibrating in place. “And I thought we’d come somewhere really dark where we could watch it? Since you like space? And I packed a little picnic for us too and…”

“That sounds really, really nice,” Danny said with a soft smile, talking over Flash’s almost panicked explanation. “I didn’t think I’d get to see the meteor shower this year, so this is really awesome.”

“Yeah? Okay, good,” Flash said, almost slumping as the nervous energy drained out of him. “I hope it’s a good night for them.”

“Even if not, this is… great, really great Flash,” Danny said. He made his way to the blanket, slipping his shoes off before he sat. “It’s been… it’s been a really long time since anyone has done something like this for me. Thank you.”

“Yeah? Wow, I keep saying that. I mean you’re welcome,” Flash said as he took off his peculiar boots and sat down next to Danny. “I’m glad you said yes.”

“You made me curious,” Danny said honestly. He picked up Flash’s boot, studying it as the other unpacked the backpack. “What are these made of to not just disintegrate when you run? I mean, obviously a polymer of some sort, but the friction it has to withstand…”

“Oh, we use a lot of the same stuff that you see in factories where machines produce high friction and some science from the automotive industry and even the aerospace,” Flash explained when he paused to see what Danny was talking about. “The shoes were pretty easy. The suit was the real problem.”

“Weave issues,” Danny said with a little nod. “Makes sense.”

“And chaffing,” Flash said with a grimace. “I have used so much baby powder.”

Danny couldn’t help but laugh at Flash’s expression. “I bet.”

“Yeah. Luckily Un—um, the other Flash had a lot of things worked out before I put on the suit.”

“That’s cool. Chemistry was never my thing, but material engineering can be really inventive.”

“There you are being smart again.”

“Me? Nah, my parents are just inventors. I used to do some work in their lab when I was a kid,” Danny said, setting the shoe down.

“And you didn’t want to follow in their footsteps?” Flash asked, his tone oddly soft.

Danny snorted. “Their type of science? No way. And besides, I never would have gotten into a good program. I, ah… didn’t do too well in high school.”

“No?”

“Nope. There was an accident in my parent’s lab with one of their inventions…” Danny closed his eyes. It was still hard to talk about the accident, especially when he couldn’t really talk about it. “Got electrocuted pretty badly by it. My heart stopped. Anyways, it threw me off pretty badly for a time and then I just never really got my feet under me. And there was this stupid bully and some other shit… sorry, excuses, I know.”

“Hey, no, reasons. People who think every reason is an excuse really don’t want you to explain yourself, they just want you to feel bad,” Flash said and bumped their shoulders together lightly. “Besides, look where you are now! You’re doing so much good and already a team lead. That’s amazing. Who cares about how you did in high school anymore?”

“My sister, for one,” Danny said. He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Wow, sorry, I really brought the mood down, huh? Show me what you brought for this picnic. After your pizza choices I’m curious what else you like.”

“Dude, you ate the pizza!” Flash defended, though his grin gave away his amusement.

“I wasn’t insulting your tastes, curious can be a good thing. It got me to agree to tonight, remember?" Danny asked. He was smiling again, despite the serious conversations a few moments ago. It was almost startling how easy it was to smile around Flash.

(Danny wasn’t complaining about that either.)

“Mmhummm, sure,” Flash said, ducking his head to hide his grin.

"Come on, unpack the snacks,” Danny said, nudging their shoulders together.

“Okay, okay, demanding,” Flash said with with a smile. “It’s a picnic, yeah? So have to have watermelon, but even better than normal watermelon, I have pickled watermelon!”

“Pickled watermelon?” Danny asked, taking the presented container curiously.

“Salty, sweet, tangy— the best,” Flash said. “And some little bread bite things to go with them.”

“How specific.”

“Shut it. Oh! Right, wasabi peas, a must have, and cupcakes for dessert!” Flash said, pulling out frankly extravagant looking cupcakes.

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Well,” Flash said. Danny could just barely see the blush coating his cheeks. “Maybe I think you deserve to be spoiled.”

Danny froze for a moment. Oh. Oh. This was a date. He felt foolish for not cluing in earlier. Suddenly feeling bashful himself, he glanced at Flash. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, like, okay, I’m getting that you don’t seem to think it, which is really like, so wrong, but you’re really amazing and nice and I mean, I’m just saying that I’m glad you said yes to tonight and since you said yes I’m going to spoil you, because, um, you deserve it,” Flash said in a blur of words.

It was charming that Flash thought that highly of him. Misguided, maybe, but charming. It bloomed a warmth in Danny’s chest that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Before he lost his nerves, Danny leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Flash’s cheek, right above the corner of his lips. “Thank you.”

Flash blushed red enough to match his mask. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed and leaned against Flash. “Oh, look! A meteor!”

“Where? I see it! Wait, I’ll turn out most of the lights!” Flash said, gone and back before Danny even had a chance to tilt over. There was just enough light left to see the food without losing the overwhelming wonder that was the night sky and streaking meteors. “Make a wish.”

“Naw,” Danny said. He’d never do that again. Besides… “don’t need to. This is already perfect.”

“Yeah,” Flash softly agreed as he twined their fingers together.

-----

AN: The boooooooys. My, I just enjoy writing these two being all soft and cute so much. And hey! Danny clued in! What do we think of Wally's food choices? (Can you tell I've been craving pickled watermelon?)

Stay delightful, my darlings!

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to be notified on the masterpost!

#dp x dc #quick death #quick death ship #danny fenton/wally west #abson

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

Text

How to design a tech regulation

TONIGHT (June 20) I'm live onstage in LOS ANGELES for a recording of the GO FACT YOURSELF podcast. TOMORROW (June 21) I'm doing an ONLINE READING for the LOCUS AWARDS at 16hPT. On SATURDAY (June 22) I'll be in OAKLAND, CA for a panel (13hPT) and a keynote (18hPT) at the LOCUS AWARDS.

It's not your imagination: tech really is underregulated. There are plenty of avoidable harms that tech visits upon the world, and while some of these harms are mere negligence, others are self-serving, creating shareholder value and widespread public destruction.

Making good tech policy is hard, but not because "tech moves too fast for regulation to keep up with," nor because "lawmakers are clueless about tech." There are plenty of fast-moving areas that lawmakers manage to stay abreast of (think of the rapid, global adoption of masking and social distancing rules in mid-2020). Likewise we generally manage to make good policy in areas that require highly specific technical knowledge (that's why it's noteworthy and awful when, say, people sicken from badly treated tapwater, even though water safety, toxicology and microbiology are highly technical areas outside the background of most elected officials).

That doesn't mean that technical rigor is irrelevant to making good policy. Well-run "expert agencies" include skilled practitioners on their payrolls – think here of large technical staff at the FTC, or the UK Competition and Markets Authority's best-in-the-world Digital Markets Unit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/13/kitbashed/#app-store-tax

The job of government experts isn't just to research the correct answers. Even more important is experts' role in evaluating conflicting claims from interested parties. When administrative agencies make new rules, they have to collect public comments and counter-comments. The best agencies also hold hearings, and the very best go on "listening tours" where they invite the broad public to weigh in (the FTC has done an awful lot of these during Lina Khan's tenure, to its benefit, and it shows):

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/events/2022/04/ftc-justice-department-listening-forum-firsthand-effects-mergers-acquisitions-health-care

But when an industry dwindles to a handful of companies, the resulting cartel finds it easy to converge on a single talking point and to maintain strict message discipline. This means that the evidentiary record is starved for disconfirming evidence that would give the agencies contrasting perspectives and context for making good policy.

Tech industry shills have a favorite tactic: whenever there's any proposal that would erode the industry's profits, self-serving experts shout that the rule is technically impossible and deride the proposer as "clueless."

This tactic works so well because the proposers sometimes are clueless. Take Europe's on-again/off-again "chat control" proposal to mandate spyware on every digital device that will screen everything you upload for child sex abuse material (CSAM, better known as "child pornography"). This proposal is profoundly dangerous, as it will weaken end-to-end encryption, the key to all secure and private digital communication:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/article/2024/jun/18/encryption-is-deeply-threatening-to-power-meredith-whittaker-of-messaging-app-signal

It's also an impossible-to-administer mess that incorrectly assumes that killing working encryption in the two mobile app stores run by the mobile duopoly will actually prevent bad actors from accessing private tools:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/09/04/oh-for-fucks-sake-not-this-fucking-bullshit-again-cryptography-edition/

When technologists correctly point out the lack of rigor and catastrophic spillover effects from this kind of crackpot proposal, lawmakers stick their fingers in their ears and shout "NERD HARDER!"

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/01/12/nerd-harder-fbi-director-reiterates-faith-based-belief-in-working-crypto-that-he-can-break/

But this is only half the story. The other half is what happens when tech industry shills want to kill good policy proposals, which is the exact same thing that advocates say about bad ones. When lawmakers demand that tech companies respect our privacy rights – for example, by splitting social media or search off from commercial surveillance, the same people shout that this, too, is technologically impossible.

That's a lie, though. Facebook started out as the anti-surveillance alternative to Myspace. We know it's possible to operate Facebook without surveillance, because Facebook used to operate without surveillance:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3247362

Likewise, Brin and Page's original Pagerank paper, which described Google's architecture, insisted that search was incompatible with surveillance advertising, and Google established itself as a non-spying search tool:

http://infolab.stanford.edu/pub/papers/google.pdf

Even weirder is what happens when there's a proposal to limit a tech company's power to invoke the government's powers to shut down competitors. Take Ethan Zuckerman's lawsuit to strip Facebook of the legal power to sue people who automate their browsers to uncheck the millions of boxes that Facebook requires you to click by hand in order to unfollow everyone:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/02/kaiju-v-kaiju/#cda-230-c-2-b

Facebook's apologists have lost their minds over this, insisting that no one can possibly understand the potential harms of taking away Facebook's legal right to decide how your browser works. They take the position that only Facebook can understand when it's safe and proportional to use Facebook in ways the company didn't explicitly design for, and that they should be able to ask the government to fine or even imprison people who fail to defer to Facebook's decisions about how its users configure their computers.

This is an incredibly convenient position, since it arrogates to Facebook the right to order the rest of us to use our computers in the ways that are most beneficial to its shareholders. But Facebook's apologists insist that they are not motivated by parochial concerns over the value of their stock portfolios; rather, they have objective, technical concerns, that no one except them is qualified to understand or comment on.

There's a great name for this: "scalesplaining." As in "well, actually the platforms are doing an amazing job, but you can't possibly understand that because you don't work for them." It's weird enough when scalesplaining is used to condemn sensible regulation of the platforms; it's even weirder when it's weaponized to defend a system of regulatory protection for the platforms against would-be competitors.

Just as there are no atheists in foxholes, there are no libertarians in government-protected monopolies. Somehow, scalesplaining can be used to condemn governments as incapable of making any tech regulations and to insist that regulations that protect tech monopolies are just perfect and shouldn't ever be weakened. Truly, it's impossible to get someone to understand something when the value of their employee stock options depends on them not understanding it.

None of this is to say that every tech regulation is a good one. Governments often propose bad tech regulations (like chat control), or ones that are technologically impossible (like Article 17 of the EU's 2019 Digital Single Markets Directive, which requires tech companies to detect and block copyright infringements in their users' uploads).

But the fact that scalesplainers use the same argument to criticize both good and bad regulations makes the waters very muddy indeed. Policymakers are rightfully suspicious when they hear "that's not technically possible" because they hear that both for technically impossible proposals and for proposals that scalesplainers just don't like.

After decades of regulations aimed at making platforms behave better, we're finally moving into a new era, where we just make the platforms less important. That is, rather than simply ordering Facebook to block harassment and other bad conduct by its users, laws like the EU's Digital Markets Act will order Facebook and other VLOPs (Very Large Online Platforms, my favorite EU-ism ever) to operate gateways so that users can move to rival services and still communicate with the people who stay behind.

Think of this like number portability, but for digital platforms. Just as you can switch phone companies and keep your number and hear from all the people you spoke to on your old plan, the DMA will make it possible for you to change online services but still exchange messages and data with all the people you're already in touch with.

I love this idea, because it finally grapples with the question we should have been asking all along: why do people stay on platforms where they face harassment and bullying? The answer is simple: because the people – customers, family members, communities – we connect with on the platform are so important to us that we'll tolerate almost anything to avoid losing contact with them:

https://locusmag.com/2023/01/commentary-cory-doctorow-social-quitting/

Platforms deliberately rig the game so that we take each other hostage, locking each other into their badly moderated cesspits by using the love we have for one another as a weapon against us. Interoperability – making platforms connect to each other – shatters those locks and frees the hostages:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

But there's another reason to love interoperability (making moderation less important) over rules that require platforms to stamp out bad behavior (making moderation better). Interop rules are much easier to administer than content moderation rules, and when it comes to regulation, administratability is everything.

The DMA isn't the EU's only new rule. They've also passed the Digital Services Act, which is a decidedly mixed bag. Among its provisions are a suite of rules requiring companies to monitor their users for harmful behavior and to intervene to block it. Whether or not you think platforms should do this, there's a much more important question: how can we enforce this rule?

Enforcing a rule requiring platforms to prevent harassment is very "fact intensive." First, we have to agree on a definition of "harassment." Then we have to figure out whether something one user did to another satisfies that definition. Finally, we have to determine whether the platform took reasonable steps to detect and prevent the harassment.

Each step of this is a huge lift, especially that last one, since to a first approximation, everyone who understands a given VLOP's server infrastructure is a partisan, scalesplaining engineer on the VLOP's payroll. By the time we find out whether the company broke the rule, years will have gone by, and millions more users will be in line to get justice for themselves.

So allowing users to leave is a much more practical step than making it so that they've got no reason to want to leave. Figuring out whether a platform will continue to forward your messages to and from the people you left there is a much simpler technical matter than agreeing on what harassment is, whether something is harassment by that definition, and whether the company was negligent in permitting harassment.

But as much as I like the DMA's interop rule, I think it is badly incomplete. Given that the tech industry is so concentrated, it's going to be very hard for us to define standard interop interfaces that don't end up advantaging the tech companies. Standards bodies are extremely easy for big industry players to capture:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

If tech giants refuse to offer access to their gateways to certain rivals because they seem "suspicious," it will be hard to tell whether the companies are just engaged in self-serving smears against a credible rival, or legitimately trying to protect their users from a predator trying to plug into their infrastructure. These fact-intensive questions are the enemy of speedy, responsive, effective policy administration.

But there's more than one way to attain interoperability. Interop doesn't have to come from mandates, interfaces designed and overseen by government agencies. There's a whole other form of interop that's far nimbler than mandates: adversarial interoperability:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

"Adversarial interoperability" is a catch-all term for all the guerrilla warfare tactics deployed in service to unilaterally changing a technology: reverse engineering, bots, scraping and so on. These tactics have a long and honorable history, but they have been slowly choked out of existence with a thicket of IP rights, like the IP rights that allow Facebook to shut down browser automation tools, which Ethan Zuckerman is suing to nullify:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Adversarial interop is very flexible. No matter what technological moves a company makes to interfere with interop, there's always a countermove the guerrilla fighter can make – tweak the scraper, decompile the new binary, change the bot's behavior. That's why tech companies use IP rights and courts, not firewall rules, to block adversarial interoperators.

At the same time, adversarial interop is unreliable. The solution that works today can break tomorrow if the company changes its back-end, and it will stay broken until the adversarial interoperator can respond.

But when companies are faced with the prospect of extended asymmetrical war against adversarial interop in the technological trenches, they often surrender. If companies can't sue adversarial interoperators out of existence, they often sue for peace instead. That's because high-tech guerrilla warfare presents unquantifiable risks and resource demands, and, as the scalesplainers never tire of telling us, this can create real operational problems for tech giants.

In other words, if Facebook can't shut down Ethan Zuckerman's browser automation tool in the courts, and if they're sincerely worried that a browser automation tool will uncheck its user interface buttons so quickly that it crashes the server, all it has to do is offer an official "unsubscribe all" button and no one will use Zuckerman's browser automation tool.

We don't have to choose between adversarial interop and interop mandates. The two are better together than they are apart. If companies building and operating DMA-compliant, mandatory gateways know that a failure to make them useful to rivals seeking to help users escape their authority is getting mired in endless hand-to-hand combat with trench-fighting adversarial interoperators, they'll have good reason to cooperate.

And if lawmakers charged with administering the DMA notice that companies are engaging in adversarial interop rather than using the official, reliable gateway they're overseeing, that's a good indicator that the official gateways aren't suitable.

It would be very on-brand for the EU to create the DMA and tell tech companies how they must operate, and for the USA to simply withdraw the state's protection from the Big Tech companies and let smaller companies try their luck at hacking new features into the big companies' servers without the government getting involved.

Indeed, we're seeing some of that today. Oregon just passed the first ever Right to Repair law banning "parts pairing" – basically a way of using IP law to make it illegal to reverse-engineer a device so you can fix it.

https://www.opb.org/article/2024/03/28/oregon-governor-kotek-signs-strong-tech-right-to-repair-bill/

Taken together, the two approaches – mandates and reverse engineering – are stronger than either on their own. Mandates are sturdy and reliable, but slow-moving. Adversarial interop is flexible and nimble, but unreliable. Put 'em together and you get a two-part epoxy, strong and flexible.

Governments can regulate well, with well-funded expert agencies and smart, adminstratable remedies. It's for that reason that the administrative state is under such sustained attack from the GOP and right-wing Dems. The illegitimate Supreme Court is on the verge of gutting expert agencies' power:

https://www.hklaw.com/en/insights/publications/2024/05/us-supreme-court-may-soon-discard-or-modify-chevron-deference

It's never been more important to craft regulations that go beyond mere good intentions and take account of adminsitratability. The easier we can make our rules to enforce, the less our beleaguered agencies will need to do to protect us from corporate predators.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/20/scalesplaining/#administratability

Image: Noah Wulf (modified) https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thunderbirds_at_Attention_Next_to_Thunderbird_1_-_Aviation_Nation_2019.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #cda #ethan zuckerman #platforms #platform decay #enshittification #eu #dma #right to repair #transatlantic #administrability #regulation #big tech #scalesplaining #equilibria #interoperability #adversarial interoperability #comcom

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forbebeandjam · 5 months

Note

Lovely~~ Can you please write a smutty fic with Bada, Kirsten, and switch!bottom reader, pleeeeaaassee.. Maybe like Bada and sweet, baby girl idol reader are together and are looking to try something new in the bedroom.. So they both seduce Kirsten and lure her into their bedroom and absolutely ruin her before Bada ruins reader.. 🤤 I need it.. I crave it so badly.

Lure | Bada x Fem Reader x Kirsten | 21+

Summary: you and your girlfriend have the hots for the international dancer Kirsten.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: extreme smut!! Face riding, fingering, eating out, seduction.

READERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED (MDNI)

A/N: this is my first time writing with three people but I think I did a pretty darn good job doing so and I hope you think so too. I hope I fed your cravings!! ;) ENJOY!!!

When you decided to audition for a Kpop idol, you never imagined your make it. The new lifestyle, friends, and just everything was new to you but it was all bearable because of your best friend Bada.

Bada knew her way around the industry since she was a Kpop choreographer with a lot of idol friends so she would give you tips on how to make friends and where to go so people wouldn't recognize you but... why did you always end up in her apartment?

It was no secret in your friend group that Bada's house was always a hot spot for idols to get together. It was in a private area of town so paparazzi and sassengs would have zero access to the premises.

Thanks to your talent and your dedication, your debut came sooner than you thought and Bada ended up being one of your choreographers.

Destiny worked its way for the two of you and you would end up together most of the time when your manager put you in private lessons with her. You tried your hardest in each class since you were the oldest one and the leader of your group so you wanted to lead by example but...

Your emotions had been growing for your tall choreographer. You couldn't deny any longer that you would do whatever you could to end your cuddled up in her bed every night. Bada was not opposed to the idea of having you there with her either.

She was in love with you after all but she didn't want to say anything knowing that she could mess with your delicate idol image. So she just let you do whatever you wanted. She would pray that you would choose to stay at her house.

One day you finally build up the guts to ask her out, and she agreed. You two began dating and soon enough turned into girlfriends. Things were wonderful in your relationship and you didn't have to be careful because everyone thought Bada was dating someone and you two were just close friends.

So with this, you and Bada began to spice up your intimacy more every day. She would try and find confined spaces where she could kiss you and touch you while always respecting your boundaries.

You were more than open to letting her do whatever she wanted with you but she was so gentle that she wanted to make you feel special every time she touched you. The way her fingers would caress your skin was soft and pure but you knew how bad she had been holding back. Either way, it would always be you and her.

That's when things changed. Things started getting more difficult when she started filming Street Woman Fighter. You became so eager for her touch and her love that you couldn't even focus on your dance steps.

You decided to start paying her visits on the show and that's when you saw Kirsten. A beautiful and sweet girl who would always welcome you to the set with a warm smile that made your insides twist.

"Baby! What are you doing here?" Bada asked as she wrapped her arms around you making you divert your attention to your tall girlfriend.

"I just missed you. I know I've been coming every day but I have a free day today so I will stay here and watch you work," you said and sat down in a corner allowing your girlfriend to go back to work.

As she practiced you couldn't focus your attention on either one of the girls in the room. The way Bada would move was so addicting but then Kirsten's hips would hypnotize you.

During a small break that they took, the cameras stopped rolling and Kirsten immediately approached Bada. You watched them chat from afar with a wide smile on your face.

Kirsten hugged Bada getting on her tippy toes to reach her shoulder and Bada wrapped her arms around Kirsten's waist. They kept talking and Kirsten's hand would not leave Bada's hip. They laughed and the skinship wouldn't end between the two.

You should've felt jealous but the odd emotion was not present anywhere in your body. The way you wanted both of them was odd and made you feel bad for feeling turned on as their sweaty bodies pressed against each other.

Later that night after a steamy makeout session and doing a few dirty things, you lay in bed with her wrapped around you. You bit your lip hesitant to ask her the question that has been on your mind all day. Regardless, you took the initiative.

"Bada... what do you think of Kirsten?" you asked and waited for her answer.

"Mhh, I think she is really nice. The is talented, and pretty. Why?" she said and you turned to her.

"No. I mean like... do you see her in any other way? Ugh! I don't know how to say this..." you subbed your face as you sat up.

"I mean like... sexually or romantically," you said with a softer tone.

"Well... she is really sexy and the way she moves her body is just wow... you know? but, why are you asking this?" She said.

"Well, you could say that I have been a bit... needy for you. And I see how you look at Kirsten and the way you bite your lip every time she twerks, dances, or moves her body. You always hype her up and I see all of that," you said hitting her arm.

"I'm sorry, baby. I really am. She's just really pretty and I-" You held your hand out signaling her to stop.

"I have a confession to make. I have to be honest and tell you that I feel the same. I love you so much and I wouldn't change you for anything in the world but I feel this strong pull toward Kirsten. Every time I see you interacting with her and you two get touchy, I feel... something. I get turned on and I just want both of you," you said Bada was speechless.

As much as she wants to deny it, it was hard for her to see you as just her girlfriend. To her, you always had to be the perfect kpop idol girlfriend that has to hide but hearing what you just said made her feel more... at ease. She was now sure that you were just like her. Normal with valid emotions.

"Babe, that's deep. I wish you would've told me sooner. I guess we are both attracted to her, huh?" she said as she looked around the room. Then suddenly, an idea popped into her head.

"What if... never mind," she said immediately discarding the idea, but you being the curious bug you are, immediately asked her what it was practically begging for her thoughts.

"Well... we could invite her to bed with us," she said as she made a face expecting you to get mad at her for even suggesting or thinking about it but in response, you tilted your head.

"You mean like... a threesome?" you said and she nodded. You bit your lip in anticipation.

"You think she'd agree to that?" you asked.

"I have seen how she looks at you when the girls ask you to dance. We could lure her in here and see how things go... only if you are okay with it," she held your hands.

"I'm nervous but I think I can do it. Let's do it," You replied.

"Hey, Kirsten!" You said as you approached the five girls during a break.

"Hey, pretty girl! What brings you around today?" She asked and invited you to sit down with them.

"Oh, I just came to see BEBE do their thing. Some of them were my teachers in the past so... yeah," you said and she nodded.

"Anyway, we are having a small gathering at Bada's apartment and I'd love for you guys to come. What do you say?" You asked. One by one they started to agree and it was a done deal.

Later that night, some of the girls showed up at Bada's place. There was music, drinking, and dancing. There were no cameras, therefore no limits.

Everyone danced to their own free will and drank till one by one they started leaving. Audrey, Emma, and Ling dragged LaTrice out of the house early when she was knocked out and left Kirsten behind.

It was only you three in the apartment. You were sober enough to know what you were doing. You and Bada exchanged a glance when you noticed how Kirsten threw her head back.

"Are you feeling okay, Kirs?" You said and she lifted her head to smile.

"Yeah. I didn't drink at all so I'm fine. But I am really tired. It's been a long time since I partied like this." she replied with a laugh.

"You can use my bedroom to rest for a bit. It's right down the hall," Bada said.

"You're too kind. I wouldn't want to mess things up around here so I think I'll just leave." She said getting up.

"It's late. I don't think you should leave," Bada said as she stood up as well. You had no choice but to follow your girl's lead.

"Listen, you two are a lovely couple and I will keep that secret. I'm sorry if I am getting in the way of anything, I really didn't mean to, and if I stay..." She stopped for a second before shaking her head and grabbing her purse.

"Wait," you said as you took hold of her arm. You knew what was going through her mind. You didn't know how she was the only one left in the apartment but this is what you and Bada intended.

"We feel the same. I don't know if it's right or wrong but it's eating me up and I can't handle it," you said not letting go of her hand. Kirsten's eyes teared up a bit and she bit her lip.

"Why don't you show her to the room while I clean up a bit? I won't take long," Bada said as she pushed you forward slightly and you nodded.

You took Kirsten's hand and took her to the room. She sat down in the bed and you were next to her. Your shoulders were touched but not a word was said as your hand nervously played with hers.

"What does Bada think of all of this?" She asked.

"She's okay with it. I know my girlfriend Kirs and the way she looks at you just gives it away. I mean, you are gorgeous," you said looking at her and she smiled when your eyes met.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head as you moved forward expecting to meet her lips and when they finally did the kiss was eager and sloppy. You wanted to undress her but she made it easier for you and removed her shirt.

"Kirsten..." you moaned into the kiss.

"Mh... you two seem to be having fun. Why didn't you wait for me?" you heard Bada say and turned to her.

"Sorry, baby," you said and she smirked as she walked towards Kirsten.

"Look how ready you are for us," she said as she lifted Kirsten's chin. You smiled at the sight.

Bada used her head to signal for Kirsten to get in the bed and she didn't hesitate to follow along. She moved up and Bada stood next to you as she helped you remove your dress leaving you in underwear.

She whispered something in your ear and Kirsten was just looking at you two waiting for what she needed.

You smiled and got in the bed to remove her bra completely while Bada removed her bottoms and panties. You could hear Kirsten whimpering under Bada's touch. Who wouldn't?

"Just relax. We're going to make you feel so good," Bada said and you used your hand to trace Kirsten's abs. You could see Bada position herself in between Kirsten and you felt turned on by her action.

You groped her breast slightly pinching her nipple. By the time Bada worked her tongue on her clit, you worked on her breast sucking and groping. Her moans were loud and her words were incoherent.

She used her free left hand to pull in Bada's hair and her other hand found her way to your sensitive clothed area rubbing ever so slightly and causing moans to leave your mouth.

Bada stopped her actions and lifted your head by the hair. This was a new aggressive side of her that turned you on even more. She kissed your lips making you taste Kirsten.

She switched positions with you. You continued to eat Kirsten out filling the room with her lustful moans when you heard her voice muffled.

As you looked up slightly, you saw your girlfriend undressed and on top of Kirsten's face. She lowered herself onto Kirsten's tongue as shaky moans escaped her lips when her hips moved.

You moaned at the sight of Bada riding her face as she caressed her own breast. The sight of Kirsten gripping the bed sheets as her tongue worked magic on Bada's wet folds completely disheveled and ruined under the both of you.

That moan that escaped your lips was enough to drive Kirsten to the edge and she came on your lips. You smiled at the sight of her tight hole clenching around nothing and you moved up to kiss Bada making her taste the cum that came out of Kirsten.

Not long after a loud moan escaped Bada's lips as you two made out and you could see how flushed she was. She had finally came on Kirsten's tongue.

Bada moved off her. She was still struggling to regulate her breathing from her previous climax and held onto you. Kirsten was too tired to even open her eyes. She was now relaxed and she seemed to be slowly falling asleep.

"I haven't even started with you," Bada said as she pulled you down and ripped off the underwear from your body.

You whimpered as you felt her spread your legs apart exposing your dripping wetness. She bit her lips and immediately went down on you. As her tongue played with your sensitive bud. Two of her fingers inserted inside of you.

You moaned loudly and your nails dug into her shoulders. She moved back up and kissed you passionately almost as if she wanted to prove to you that you were the only one in her eyes after what just happened.

Her fingers had never been inside of you but they felt so good as they moved against your gummy walls. Gushy sounds emitted from you as she pounded with force. Her thumb rubbed against your clit and her long and beautiful fingers curled inside of you hitting your spot perfectly.

"B-Bada... I can't. I can't handle it," you said.

"You're being such a good girl from me. Just a little longer and I promise you will feel so good. Just hang a bit more. Don't cum... Not until I let you," she said and bit your bottom lip.

After a few more thrusts you felt a build-up in the pit of your stomach and dropped down on the bed. Your body at the verge of convulsing from the pleasure Bada was giving you yet she enjoyed the sight of your bare body shaking under her touch.

"Who do you belong to?" She said.

"Y-you... only you, Bada," you said between moans and with struggle.

"Cum for me, Y/N," she said and you didn't wait another second to release on her hand. She brought her cum covered fingers staring into Kirsten's mouth who had been enjoying the show before her eyes. She shoved them into her mouth making Kirsten moan.

"Get a taste. You two did so good for me," Bada said. Your body was unable to move any longer due to the previous activities.

Kirsten was also drained and Bada dropped her body in between the both of you. It was a good thing you convinced Bada to get a bigger bed. You three perfectly fit in that bed.

The following day, as the scenes from the night before flashed in your head, you covered your face when both Bada and Kirsten greeted you in the morning. You avoided their gaze to which Kirsten giggled.

"Y/N, did you want some breakfast, baby?" Bada said in her raspy morning voice. You flustered and shy, responded with a simple yes, still avoiding her gaze.

You felt her hand on your face making you look up at her.

"Look at me when I talk to you," she said and you nodded.

"Good girl," she said before walking to the kitchen and making breakfast.

"I have early practice but... let's do this again sometime," Kirsten said before trying to walk out of the room. You grabbed her arm.

"Promise?" You said and her face flashed a bright red before nodding and walking out of the room.

"Since when did you become so bold, babe?" Bada said as she peeked her head through the door frame.

"Since last night, Bada Lee," you replied and walked back to the room as she checked out your figure.

"Bada, what have you done to those two?" She asked herself with a chuckle and went back to preparing a meal.

Thank you for reading!🩵🩷

#forbebeandjam #honeybee156 #street woman fighter 2 #bebe #jam republic #swf2 #lgbt #bada lee #kirsten dodgen smut #bada lee smut #smut #street woman fighter x reader #bada lee x reader #kirsten x reader #Bada Lee x Kirsten

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nanamis-bigtie · 8 months

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Bas, I love your writing so much!!!! Im kind of embarrassed to say I have notifs turned on for your posts. I've never requested one, and I know you're probably inundated, but if you are interested, would you do nanami and 44 for the kiss prompt ask? I think it's tentative kisses in the dark?

Latecomers

Character: Nanami Kento Reader: gender neutral (ambiguous body and presentation, no gendered pronouns) CW: reader is wearing glasses, alcohol (both reader and Nanami were drunk prior to events of fic) Word count: 1560 Prompt: Tentative kisses given in the dark. A/N: After a horribly long break, I am finally pecking at the very old kiss drabbles request. If you're still here, Anon, I'm sorry for the unplanned long wait. I hope you will enjoy this little Nanami treat as much as I enjoyed writing it 🤭

The atmosphere was so dense it could be cut with a knife, and the unsettling environment was just a rather minor cause to blame. With nothing but cold hatred he felt towards the wannabe-suburban train stations, Nanami would still take its whole gamut of nuisances, if only he could face it alone.

In contrast to the cold and alien station hall, your presence wasn't unpleasant or unwelcome—but the two of you wanted to be somewhere else so badly it was almost written on your faces. What a misfortune, not only you had been assigned a mission in the same area, but also both of you had missed the last train back to Tokyo, ending up stuck all alone for a few hours to come.

Seated in an appropriate yet painfully close distance, Nanami was staring at the departure board, stubborn, motionless, as if a wrongly paced blink would delay the next train for an extra hour. Hands crossed in his lap, he fiddled with thumbs and fought against the urge to whistle or hum, anything to tune that deaf silence down. You both had attempted to lead a conversation, and both had failed miserably. Words possibly couldn't glue together, and your eyes kept wandering everywhere but each other's paths, what an unbearable pain in the ass.

Nanami had at least the barrier of his glasses providing him succor, but what he could hide from you, had just been drilling him from inside instead. Whenever his glance grazed over you, the memory of the tangy taste of your lips, pressed against his and followed suit by a brush of your warm, wet tongue, hit him like a jackhammer. Even the dim, industrial lightning around had nearly the same taint as that izakaya you had gathered in to celebrate another week of life. A cheap bar, cheap cigarettes filling the air, cheap sake burning your throats—and hasty kisses exchanged through the stolen minute of solitude, awkwardly, leaving strain in his knees as he had leaned over the short table to reach you.

Truly a spur of a moment, caving to his repressed yearning, a decision a drunk fool had made with consequences sober he had to face.

"Express train to—" Timeworn speakers barked into tar-like silence and the both of you jerked up and bumped your elbows. Nanami mumbled an apology, barely audible amidst the recording still echoing through the hall, and forced himself to look at you, as sincerity demanded.

You were hunched-up in your seat, hands rubbing your tight-crossed arms, literally an inch from trembling, no mantle or even a scarf whatsoever. He had noticed you had been dressed a bit too light for a night to spend on railway station, of course he had, but the thought had been pushed at the back of his head as he had squared himself up for a different kind of battle.

Now shame was burning his ears brighter than embarrassment. He had been sitting there all cozy while you suffered right by his side, within an arm reach.

"Do I look that bad?" You snorted, tad forced, as you eyed him struggling with his jacket. "I'm not freezing, don't—"

"I have a pullover." Nanami, dry as ever, threw himself over your words, and pushed a just stripped mantle into your lap.

You opened your mouth, ready to battle for your point, but immediately shut it under the weight of his gaze sneaking over his glasses.

Nanami immediately averted eyes but couldn't cover his ears from you as you, prolonging it awkwardly, cleared your throat, "Hey, lemme at least repay?"

An even dryer response was forcing its way to his lips. Nanami didn't need anything from you, desperately didn't want anything from you, but he couldn't quite bring himself, despite everything, to push you away, "I could use some coffee."

Not until you had got busy with the vending machine at the other side of the hall Nanami let himself take a deeper breath. The low thudding of his pulse drowned all the other sounds: his heart was racing so much he feared it might break free out of his chest and chase after you. He expected as much, the sight of your figure hunched under his jacket could be only powerful beyond imagination, so close and dear, and burning his eyes as you returned closer, with two paper cups in your hands.

"You look quite pale yourself," you tease, unconvincingly with the way your throat squeezed around words. "You sure you don't want your jacket back?"

Wary of the risk of your hands meeting, Nanami took his coffee and muttered a dry thank you. You hunched up again in your seats, the expected express train stopped with a screech somewhere behind your backs, but no one followed the arrival nor the departure.

The hall remained empty and tense.

Coffee from the vending machine tasted horrible but it was warm and helped keeping lips busy. Nanami sipped on his half-heartedly, focused on easing pulse and breath, against his thoughts racing towards the memories he would gladly already forget.

What now? What were you going to do with all of this? Should you act as if nothing ever happened? How can you ever act as if nothing ever happened?

"Nanami—" Your voice caught him off-guard, with a cup right by his lips. His hands budged, some coffee spilled down his chin and dripped on his pullover.

"Ah shit, I'm sorry!" You sprung to your feet as if it indeed was your fault, fumbling with pockets of an unfamiliar jacket, finally seizing a handkerchief out of one. He tried to wipe himself with just a bare hand—but with a surprising resolve you pushed it out the way and dealt with the mess yourself.

"I'm alright," he tried to answer the unspoken question, couldn't bring himself to. The gentle but determined touch of yours left him paralyzed, enchanted, from toes to lips, itching at the faint memory of the kiss you had shared.

The lamp over your heads flickered and your hand dabbed closer, from his chest to his throat, then his chin. Nanami's breath hitched, audibly, tickled at the tips of your fingers gently drying the last droplets of long-forgotten tasteless coffee. The sensation was familiar, was wrong, so inappropriate, so shameless in its simplicity.

You shouldn't do that to him.

And he couldn't hold himself any longer.

Through the thin layer of handkerchief Nanami kissed your fingers, from tips to knuckles, and nuzzled his face into your palm. Begging internally for you to slap or punch him, he wandered towards your wrist, breathed the sweet scent of yours he had learnt by heart the day he held you close for the first and only time. He felt your pulse racing under your skin, swallowed its rhythm like starved, latched on this little vibration with his eyes closed, awaiting the inevitable doom and punishment.

The lamp flickered, power whined in cables and died, leaving the both of you in darkness right as your lips finally met again.

At first you bumped into each other awkwardly, glasses against glasses—the obstacle you tore out of your way almost simultaneously. In contrast to your first kiss, you moved carefully, barely brushing your lips, constantly asking, and never quite answering, and sharing breath in between chaotic breaks.

The unpleasant, chemical taste of coffee seemed to work against you—but as the even worse taste of sake hadn't stopped you back then, you quickly ignored it this time too. Nanami sipped it from you as if your mouth was filled with rose water, gladly swallowing your tongue finally pressing against his. Not until then he had dared to touch you, to pull you closer by the skirts of his own jacket, one hand cradling the back of your head. You snuck fingers into his hair; your nose brushed cute against his as you tilted head to the side, finally losing yourself into the sensation and pulling him into it with you.

The light flickered again, the hum of electronics returned, but you remained linked, catching up on days lost for the awkward dance of adults too skittish to be adult—until sharp fire in lungs forced Nanami to pull away.

With a thin string of saliva still connecting the two of you, you were heavily panting a mere inch away from his face. He felt your moist breath against his skin and already starved to steal it again—but, fighting against himself, he brought the same coffee-stained handkerchief to your lips and dabbed them dry.

You exhaled through your nose, amused, and repeated his gesture from earlier, peppering his fingers with soft kisses.

"It tasted…horrible," Nanami broke the silence first after you recollected yourselves, words faster than the second thought. "The coffee, I mean."

"The kiss too," you admitted and tossed your cup into the nearest trash can, somehow not spoiling the remaining coffee. "How can they sell this crap to people?"

"I feel I owe you a proper one." Faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Nanami dared to scoot closer. You nuzzled towards him too, sharing the much-needed warmth eagerly now. "Once we're back to Tokyo, I'm taking you to a good place."

"It's a date?" The warmth in your voice, the timbre he loved so much, returned, no remaining trace of embarrassment left.

"It's a date. With breakfast."

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rock-in-robins · 1 year

Text

Young Just Us AU (or not depends tbh) of a yj that are more morally gray than their typically portrayed as. If they didn't kill canon they don't kill here, but pretty much everything else? well, if it gets the job done. Here the yj is kinda like how they were in the show, an off the books 'black ops' type of team, but with way less supervision.

They have little to no relationship with the league after realizing how badly they failed them as kids. The only they keep in contact with each other is that they both know yj knows too much and is too powerful to be in that complete gray area.

With everyone else mostly retired it's the core four (but others come help if their in town), and their known as a powerhouse team who is scarily good at what they do. They've got three major powerhouses and a world class strategist, all of who have some very impressive feats under their belts.

Their funded by Tim who is still CEO/Majority shareholder of WE, though he's starting to get involved with Drake Industries, he's in the odd place of partner/son/colleague place with Bruce that he can never quite escape. But after the timestream/eurotrip thing he's ready to take the next step forward, without batman.

Kon and Clark have reached a point where they understand each other, but for both interacting is just painful all round. so they aren't super close but will always come if the other calls, both say they'll try harder in a year or two, who knows if they ever will. kon doesn't know how to forgive clark for their earlier relationship, that, he is working on.

Cassie and Diana are still great but Cassie can't forgive the way the league has treated her people, especially as their leader. so she works/trains with Diana but want's nothing to do with the rest of the league.

For Bart, he and Wally have some cain and able shit going on so post max's death they still interact on occasion but thats about it. all parties are doing their own thing and everyone is ok with that.

this entire au is YJ becoming more independant and kicking ass and finding a bunch of loners they mentor/adopt

#shades of grey yj au #how good of menotr/gaurdian/parent the league was depends on the run so in so don't come @ me for league slander #honestly a group of people that big and powerful has to have some shady shit going on #tim drake #kon el #cassie sandsmark #cassandra sandsmark #wonder girl #superboy #bart allen #impulse #dc red robin #red robin #yj98 #young justice 1998 #young just us #young justice

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whompthatsucker1981 · 1 year

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real actual nonhostile question with a preamble: i think a lot of artists consider NN-generated images as an existential threat to their ability to use art as a tool to survive under capitalism, and it's frequently kind of disheartening to think about what this is going to do to artists who rely on commissions / freelance storyboarding / etc. i don't really care whether or not nn-generated images are "true art" because like, that's not really important or worth pursuing as a philosophical question, but i also don't understand how (under capitalism) the rise of it is anything except a bleak portent for the future of artists

thanks for asking! i feel like it's good addressing the idea of the existential threat, the fears and feelings that artists have as to being replaced are real, but personally i am cynical as to the extent that people make it out to be a threat. and also i wanna say my piece in defense of discussions about art and meaning.

the threat of automation, and implementation of technologies that make certain jobs obsolete is not something new at all in labor history and in art labor history. industrial printing, stock photography, art assets, cgi, digital art programs, etc, are all technologies that have cut down on the number of art jobs that weren't something you could cut corners and labor off at one point. so why do neural networks feel like more of a threat? one thing is that they do what the metaphorical "make an image" button that has been used countless times in arguments on digital art programs does, so if the fake button that was made up to win an argument on the validity of digital art exists, then what will become of digital art? so people panic.

but i think that we need to be realistic as to what neural net image generation does. no matter how insanely huge the data pool they pull from is, the medium is, in the simplest terms, limited as to the arrangement of pixels that are statistically likely to be together given certain keywords, and we only recognize the output as symbols because of pattern recognition. a neural net doesn't know about gestalt, visual appeal, continuity, form, composition, etc. there are whole areas of the art industry that ai art serves especially badly, like sequential arts, scientific illustration, drafting, graphic design, etc. and regardless, neural nets are tools. they need human oversight to work, and to deal with the products generated. and because of the medium's limitations and inherent jankiness, it's less work to hire a human professional to just do a full job than to try and wrangle a neural net.

as to the areas of the art industry that are at risk of losing job opportunities to ai like freelance illustration and concept art, they are seen as replaceable to an industry that already overworks, underpays, and treats them as disposable. with or without ai, artists work in precarized conditions without protections of organized labor, even moreso in case of freelancers. the fault is not of ai in itself, but in how it's yielded as a tool by capital to threaten workers. the current entertainment industry strikes are in part because of this, and if the new wga contract says anything, it's that a favorable outcome is possible. pressure capital to let go of the tools and question everyone who proposes increased copyright enforcement as the solution. intellectual property serves capital and not the working artist.

however, automation and ai implementation is not unique to the art industry. service jobs, manufacturing workers and many others are also at risk at losing out jobs to further automation due to capital's interest in maximizing profits at the cost of human lives, but you don't see as much online outrage because they are seen as unskilled and uncreative. the artist is seen as having a prestige position in society, if creativity is what makes us human, the artist symbolizes this belief - so if automation comes for the artist then people feel like all is lost. but art is an industry like any other and artists are not of more intrinsic value than any manual laborer. the prestige position of artist also makes artists act against class interest by cooperating with corporations and promoting ip law (which is a bad thing. take the shitshow of the music industry for example), and artists feel owed upward social mobility for the perceived merits of creativity and artistic genius.

as an artist and a marxist i say we need to exercise thinking about art, meaning and the role of the artist. the average prompt writer churning out big titty thomas kinkade paintings posting on twitter on how human made art will become obsolete doesnt know how to think about art. art isn't about making pretty pictures, but is about communication. the average fanartist underselling their work doesn't know that either. discussions on art and meaning may look circular and frustrating if you come in bad faith, but it's what exercises critical thinking and nuance.

#gonna start tagging shit as #ai art discourse #bc lmao stiff just doesnt stop coming

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enbycrip · 1 month

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I keep seeing and hearing things from friends and other folks I hugely respect who work in really *important* professions and areas of life - science, museums, art, education, care and nursing, medicine - beating themselves up as they are fucked around and treated badly. And one of the things I keep hearing is “I’m such a fool, I made a really stupid choice of career, I’m clearly not good enough for this”.

And I need to say this:

Mate, you did *not* make a bad decision re your career.

You made the decision based on your passion and ability for something that is *incredibly important*.

The fact that you did so in fucking end stage capitalism when industries, professions and areas of work we should be investing in heavily are being gutted because capitalism doesn’t value vital things is *not your fault*.

And trust me, as a person who has a pretty severe energy-limiting illness; it’s *not* a moral failure to be burned out. It’s actually a really normal human response to *things being hard* and being overwhelmed by things that are not your fault.

You are accomplishing things, and pretty awesome things at that. But it’s also worth bearing in mind that you actually have worth as a human that isn’t tied to a job or career, or to the art of whatever medium you produce, or in being smiley and upbeat for your mates.

*You matter regardless of what you produce.*

And every time that feels inadequate, or like an excuse, remember how much effort capitalism and capitalist institutions put into convincing you of that, and that these things are *your individual failures* and *not* systemic problems caused by social failures to value what actually matters in the world.

I sit here and tell myself this all the damn time because it was literally the only way to survive in a world that wants me to believe that my life as a disabled person with limited capacities and a lot of need for rest is meaningless, and that that fact is my own fault. I’m getting better at internalising it now, but it means it hurts even damn more when I see wonderful people who are doing important work being beaten up by the same things I was, and to an extent still am.

I also have to tell you; as a disabled person with a *very* limited ability for paid work, or for a huge amount of unpaid work I desperately want to do, it is *really* difficult to hear much more abled people denigrating their achievements that feel far far more than I will very likely ever be able to do.

Please do think about the impact your words have when you broadcast your internal self-loathing out there. There *will* be people you care about dying a little bit more inside every time you denigrate stuff you have achieved that they have been holding as a distant goal.

I am not trying to guilt anyone by saying this; I am saying it because hearing about how my internalised fatphobia and letting out my self-loathing over my relatively thin body was harming fat folk I cared about was one of the things that helped me get a good bit of the way over some crippling body image stuff.

Valuing yourself and what you actually do, are, and contribute is *hard* work, and it’s so worth doing.

It is not “losing your standards” or “becoming complacent” to recognise how much of what you struggle with is systemic and *not* your individual failures. It is realising the amount of work an unequal and abusive system puts in to stop people from resisting it and turning our energies from beating ourselves up in self-hatred to *working for change*.

#disabled #disability #chronic illness #late stage capitalism #systemic injustice #systemic issues #it’s not you it really is the world mate #internalised self loathing

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veintrry · 2 years

Text

pre-show !

idol!scaramouche x gn!reader, reader has female genitalia, teasing, biting, sucking.

exact same fic different sexual genitals: f | m

ac: ??? (comment if you know!)

It was a somewhat difficult and draining thing to be dating someone in the performing industry. You had to witness your partner in tiring states, and you both has to give up a lot to make things work, but you two still continue to try and you could proudly say you are content where you are.

There's something that boosts your ego knowing that despite the thousands of people that are watching him, only you get all of him. Though, you hadn't missed how much more clingier he had grown to be, and that was made all the more evident with his rash behaviour this evening.

Here you stood in his room at the backstage area, awaiting his arrival before he had to get on stage. This had become somewhat of a ritual for you two, to see each other before a performance; You were there for each one, from when he was but an underground name till he had gained enough traction to be known merely by the title of 'The man who speaks with his eyes'.

Still, this fame did nothing to change your relationship, not in a personal way. It did affect your time schedules and you found yourself more concerned about him due to not wanting him to overwork himself knowing how difficult this industry may be, but other than that you two had stayed relatively the same and you both were happy with that, knowing that there was nothing wrong. Although, you'd be lying if you'd say you didn't feel a tad bit jealous when you hear others shamelessly complimenting him.

The sound of the door opening with a click brushes past your ears and before you could turn around to greet whoever it was you are pulled into a tight embrace and the door had already been closed, the lock snapping into place harshly.

A whine enters your ears as his head rests on the back of your shoulder, "I need you."

It isn't a question but a statement that he is aware you both must share, and it isn't uncommon to feel this way when it comes to one another, especially with how difficult things can be for him within the industry.

He lifts his head, placing his chin onto your shoulder as he tilts it to gaze up at you. "That damn manager held me up. I was getting my makeup and hair done and then they just decided to dump more information about our coming schedules too. Who do they think they are? And to tell me so abruptly too. They're wasting my time," He complains, and you notice the way his eyes narrow, glaring at the recollection as though the entire team had practically imprisoned him and kept him from what he desired.

You think he is overreacting a bit, but you'd be lying to say you didn't feel the same, and you'd be a bigger liar to say you don't like it.

"I could be staying with you instead." He finishes, relishing in your body warmth, inhaling your scent as though he had been addicted to it, to you, and what it did to him. He wanted you, badly.

You like the sound of that, and he might've - no, he definitely picked up on that - He wasn't dense, far from it. He knew his schedule must be exhausting for you. I mean, how could you ever survive this long without him? He should be more attentive to you.

A smirk found its way onto his lips and his hands began to trail from your stomach to your waist, rubbing on your sides as he hummed into your clothing. "We haven't gotten much time to ourselves recently, have we now?" His voice had the essence of honey, attempting to fool you with its sweetness despite your knowing of the venomous intent behind it. "You know you don't have time to be doing that, especially right now Scara." You say, cutting to the chase, and he almost sends you a disapproving whine.

"You know I don't like you calling me that." He lifts his weight off your shoulder, nearing the side of your ear, mouth too close to the outer shell as he whispers in that familiar deceiving tone, "Say my name." A thumb laps circles onto your stomach, patiently awaiting your reaction, timing you.

"You have to get on soon- '' You're spun around, an arm lacing around your back, fingers wrapping around your waist firmly pulling you closer to him, too close. "Say my name."

And you see the way he stares at you, demanding you, commanding you. Hell, if you didn't say it you were sure he was going to have it come out of you with his own methods. And despite how much you didn't want to admit it, you didn't mind that, either. You didn't want him to be late, but there was a good feeling about being the reason why he's late. Plus, you were curious, just how would he make you succumb to him this time? "Make me."

That was all he needed. Those two words were like the seal to break his restraints and give his all to you, as he always should've been. It was impressive the little time it took till his lips were crashing against yours, pleading for you, you didn't even blink.

Divine is how he always felt. The softness of his lips was always so passionate and demanding, yet always with that desperation tinged in and this dawn it was stronger than usual; He yearned for you. He wished to devour all of you.

You match his pace as best as you can but he doesn't wait for you, he doesn't want to, he wants you to feel the mess that this is, he wants to make this imperfect; It's almost like he wants you to make him a mess. It would be a sight to see for someone like him to go out looking like that, the public and news outlets would have a field day. But hey, more eyes on him right? And yet he only found himself wanting yours.

A hand crawls up your spine, his fingers feeling as though they are touching your bare skin through your clothing, leaving a cold trail that makes you arch your back with a yelp. They find home in your hair, entangling into it and pulling you deeper into him, wanting you to breathe him, take him, take all of him.

But you push away for a moment, hands on his torso. You need air, and you were aware he did too. Still, he did not care. He wouldn't waste this, waste this chance to rile you up, to show you who he wants to entertain is you. Who else would tolerate all of him the way you do? "Off," His voice was hoarse, deep breaths being taken and the desperation appeared to only grow. You glance up to meet the gaze that was already long planted onto you, savouring your reactions, the puffiness of your lips and the wrong you felt for doing this but the thrill you gained from it. "Take them off." He gestures to your pants with his eyes. "Scara-" You whined as you attempted to speak, though cutting yourself off realising your mistake.

You could see the state he was in and you having called him that probably didn't help. His hands departed from your waist, his chest pressed up against you as he reached for the zipper and the way he looked at you tells you that he didn't care about the aftermath or the possibility of being caught, you might even say he enjoyed it, your response to it. And his grimacing smirk widens at the thought. "I know you want it. I bet you'd love for me to have you bent over and fucked here." Your body appeared to squirm at his words, reminded that he knew you and your body more than you did. It was only natural he'd understand your cravings. "There's no need to deny it. I know."

He leaned his face in closer to you, your noses touching and you see those pretty lashes of him cover his eyes like a veil but you feel it, you feel his hunger and you witness its coming when he licks his top lip, the zipper of your pants slowly being inched down anticipatingly. You hated how he took his time, how he knew you were still focused on the time, how unconsciously your eyes would glance over to the clock hung up above the vanity desk, and you knew that he knew how despite all of this you still wanted him to not show up– to be late, unrefined, fucked up– all because of you. He liked you like that, when you were selfish.

You latch onto the hand on your jeans and push the zipper down completely, losing your patience. "And I thought you were eager to get started?" Now you reciprocate his cocky confidence as your half-lidded eyes encounter his, daring him to see how much he could do with the time he has. And you knew him, he would do anything to prove you wrong. "Who said we haven't already?" He retorted.

The hand on your waist is slowly moved to your stomach, then dragged down to your unzipped pants that you began to hastily remove, his nails lightly touching your skin, leaving a feathery sensation and as he closed in on your most intimate spot he eyed you in silence, but he spoke to you with those emotions that whirled inside them. Bastard. His fingers make way to the bottom of your undergarment touching your wet self, rubbing his fingers around just to feel how soaked you'd gotten all by yourself.

He begins to touch you through your underwear, and the hand that was once in your hair slithered under your top, undoing your bra with ease and disposing of it with little to no care as he goes back to cupping your breast. You both are breathing heavily against one another and you're the one to latch your lips onto his again, and once you do you don't regret it, you kiss into him deeply, and you feel the moistness of his tongue press up against your bottom lip, swiping it in an ask of permission, and you wholeheartedly welcome it, opening your mouth for him as your hips jut into his touch.

His tongue was warm and naturally moist, the strong feeling of its shape and the way he roughly handled it in your mouth making it feel more prominent. He swirled his tongue around yours, pulling it deeper into his and as went on his fingers began to rub on your clit, touching you with your garments still on. He adored the insolent whines that would leave your mouth, the desperation you reciprocated in those stuttering hip movements as you attempted to get as much friction as you can, but if you wanted it so bad all you had to do was ask.

The warmth you had discovered within your mouth soon disappeared as he departed from your lips, however his pillowy lips never left your body, they merely trailed down your jaw, leaving soft kisses as he climbed down your neck. You feel his teeth grazing your skin before sinking his teeth into it like he was blood hungry. His breath hitches at the quick breath of relief you release and how you wince at the pain in pleasure. Then he kisses it, lapping the bruise with his tongue to apologise, but he only does it again and again till you were sure your neck and shoulders were covered with marks. You didn't want to think about the struggle you'd have of hiding them, but he could offer you a better solution of simply not doing so.

He continues onto his path, riding up your shirt up to your chest as he resumes in journeying down to your stomach, leaving feather-like kisses in their wake, before feeling the wet heat that's up against you again. You look down to see him licking up your navel with a smug smile, snapping you out of your thoughts. You were stupid to believe that he would simply tend to you kindly. Was this to be loving? Certainly. But kind? No, anything but that. He'd love you with everything he has, and you'll take it.

Crouching down to be at your groyne as he resumes planting sloppy kisses downwards, he finally allows his finger to latch onto your undergarments waistband, slightly teasing you as he rubs on it, making you more aware of your need for him. You let out a grumbling whine, and he sees how you furrow your brows at him but it does nothing to deliver frustration when you wore such a cute pout. Still, he was a very generous man, so he wouldn't torture you for too long. He begins to lower them till you are laid bare for him, and the only time he ever looks away from you is when he finally has a moment to relish in the divine sight of your soaked self. A pleased hum leaves him, and his eyes meet yours again and you see the satisfaction that lay within them, how he scrutinises you, teases you, with nothing but his observing violet orbs and that gleam that reflects only more to come.

You were far from the kind to feel humiliated when being seen bare by him. This wasn't the first time you two had felt each other this way, spoken to one another in such a way or let out these sounds of yours. But, the difference here was that, you certainly never had done it like this, during a time you knew you shouldn't, when you had such little time, when there was a risk of getting caught, and it made you squirm into yourself all the more, your thighs pressing against one another and thus his thumb that had rested on your inner thigh.

"Ah ah, ah." He tutted, scolding you with his tone as though you had made a measly mistake. "That's no good," The heat of his breaths meet your skin with each word he speaks, granting goosebumps amongst your skin and you are certain this was intentional. "Don't tell me you're getting all shy now, are you?" And he cocks his head to the side as he gazes to you, awaiting your answer, and you can't make eye contact, not with this view of him knelt down, so eager for you. Surely he knows.

"I see. Don't worry, I'll make sure you're completely relaxed. You don't have to worry about a thing." His words are painfully slow and the longer he speaks the softer his voice gets, the more dewy and venomously sweet it is that you wish to intake it once more.He knew how to get you going and he didn't back away from using his dirty tricks, planting a kiss atop your abdomen.

Such a pretty face he had, but he bore the personality of a snake. I suppose it would be somewhat twisted for you to admit that you found yourself to enjoy that about him, allowing yourself to be a willing prey…

#wanderer #kunikuzushi #scaramouche #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin impact #wanderer x reader #wanderer genshin #genshin kunikuzushi #scara x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin scara #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #kunikuzushi smut #wanderer smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #scaramouche x y/n

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octuscle · 9 months

Text

Senior year

Hey there!

I’m a Brown guy in my senior year. I go to the gym semi-regularly but am still skinny-fat. I was wondering if you could turn me into a hunk- and a bonus if my twunk bestfriend gets on his knees for me this winter break.

Buddy, maybe you’re just at the wrong gym. Working out with all your snobby Ivy League friends isn’t going to make you one of the big boys.

That new gym you googled is far from even remotely hip or stylish. An unadorned box in an industrial estate. There are mostly pick-ups and vans parked in front of the building. Your Porsche looks a little out of place. Even in the entrance area, it smells of iron, testosterone and sweat. The Neanderthal at the counter takes your details. Surprisingly, all on a tablet. You would have expected everything here to still work on paper. Your login details are your thumbprint and an iris scan. You are impressed. The Neanderthal welcomes you to the club, gives you a fist bump and returns to his cell phone. You’re still wondering whether you should ask him about the house rules or for instructions on the equipment… But you just take a deep breath, go through the security gate and dive into the world of the big boys.

The first few days of training were difficult. There are basically only free weights. And the smallest weights tend to be at the upper limit of what you were moving in your old gym. You never see a trainer or anything that you can ask for advice. And the sweat-smelling musclemen around you only seem to be able to moan and grunt. Nobody talks here.

Shit, somehow you were hoping that this would all work within seconds. Poof! Muscle man! But that didn’t work, you’re still a weakling… Everyone else here is so big… You tried your best to fit in. You cut your own hair with long hair clippers. But you no longer shave your body hair. And your beard maybe every four to ten days. It just takes up unnecessary time. Just like thinking too much about clothes. You wear compression shorts to the gym like everyone else here, and sweatshorts over them. And a tank top on top. Or a T-shirt. As long as it’s sleeveless. Shoulders and armpits must be exposed. Because of the freedom of movement. And because the musky smell from your armpits is pure motivation to sweat even more. Outside the gym, you then wear a tracksuit over your gym clothes. Showering and changing is silly. You train for two to three hours each morning and evening. And if your job as a courier driver allows it, even during your lunch break. One of your bros got you the job. He also got you a good price for your Porsche. The Dodge RAM suits you much better.

Shit, you know the guy who’s making the delivery you have to make from somewhere. The name means something to you. You ring the bell. “Fourth floor left” comes out of the intercom. Damn, of course the elevator doesn’t work. You’re not the cardio type, you start to sweat. There’s a young, student-looking guy standing in the doorway. Over-groomed. Not badly built, but could do with a few more muscles. He looks at you almost lustfully. You grin and say that you have at least one delivery for him.

Hehehe, this isn’t the first time someone has sucked your cheesy boner. But this twunk is one of the better ones. He reminds you of someone. But it must have been a long time ago.

Pic found @stargazerguy

#submission #muscle tf #male tf #dumber

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honeybeeofficial · 19 days

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okay I know your post was about how annoying it is when people make comments about selling your craft and while I certainly can’t speak for other people I would spend mmmmh I’d say $450 on horseshoe crab bag. I have $450 in my bank account right now and would use it to buy a horseshoe crab shaped bag.

This illustrates another piece of the issue that maybe I didn't fully spell out in my post about how badly people underestimate the cost of handmade goods– which is that even when a non-crafter hears "handmade crafts are expensive," they still often don't really grasp the scale we're talking about.

When the same friend I mentioned in the original post found out that I handmade the journal I carry around, he asked if he could pay me to make him one. He said he would happily pay $15–20 for a good journal. I laughed and told him that the labor involved would make it a lot more expensive than that, and he went "oh, like… 30–40? Yeah, that might be more than I'd want to spend." …The actual cost for that journal would likely be around $80–100.

What makes me think you didn't fully comprehend my original post is that in that post, I gave a rough estimated overview of what the cost would be. I said that if I'm charging what my labor is actually worth, $615 is the bare minimum for that item, and that it would likely be more.

After updating my math and factoring in things like packaging + shipping, the "fair price" for a horseshoe crab bag comes out to $780 USD. That's with me charging $25/hr, which is less than I make at my actual job even though leatherworking is more physically taxing. I made a post about how commissions would work if anyone actually wanted to spend that much.

I'm not mad at you, anon (nor am I mad at the friend I've mentioned), but it's clear to me that the original point about how expensive handmade goods are didn't really click for you. Fast fashion and mass industrial production have really degraded our sense of how much things are actually worth, because you can get just about anything almost instantly for a tiny fraction of what it would take an individual to produce.

For the same reason, I've ruled out ever taking my graphic design career in a freelance direction– anytime I've taken a freelance project, or considered it, I get to the point where I calculate what to charge and I just wince and shy away from the project entirely… because I have a gut feeling that something like a logo "should" cost around $100–200… but when I do the math for my time, I would actually have to charge $600–1000 (for a logo! Just a logo!), and I'm just mentally incapable of enforcing that for myself day in and day out to make a living wage.

If you have 5–10 minutes, I'd recommend this exercise to anyone:

Think of a project or task you've done lately. Pick something with measurable start and end points, such as an art project, folding laundry, washing the dishes, writing an essay, etc.

How much do you think you would pay someone else to do that task for you? Write that down. This is "A."

How long did that task take you to do? Write that down (in # of hours). This is "B." Approximate number is fine.

Did that task require any special tools? What about materials? Even basic things like sponges, paint, etc. Roughly estimate the cost of all the tools and materials you used. Because you'd likely get multiple uses out of most tools/materials, divide that number by 5. Write down the new number; this is "C."

What do you think is a fair minimum wage for your area? Many people have been fighting for $15/hr for a long time, but arguably this is still too low. If you're not sure, use $15/hr as a baseline. Write that down. This is "D."

Multiply B by D. Add C. This new number is "E."

How close is E to A? I'd be willing to bet that E is quite a bit higher than A. Remember, the hourly wage you used to calculate this might not even reflect what this work is actually worth. Does this give you a better idea of what you would actually need to pay someone to do that task for you?

Not all work is quantifiable in this way, and modern technology does allow for processes to be combined and optimized in ways that won't be reflected in your process. For example, buying a single bagel would not cost $60, because a bagel shop can make lots of bagels at the same time, using the same materials and equipment. But this absolutely does apply to things like hiring someone to clean your house, do your homework, or– of course– create handmade crafts.

#lamppost #horseshoe crab #crafting

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yannaryartside · 11 months

Text

SYDNEY, PASTA, CARMY, AND FAILURE

When Sydney was trying to create items for the menu and failing at it, I kept asking myself why, why is he self-sabotaging now, even when she may have been waiting for a change like this her whole life.

There were some events related to her fear of failure, to pasta, and to Carmy, that created a unique avalanche of her own.

She tells Carmy the story of the incident that broke her business, about a mean lady who demanded fresh pasta that she couldn't deliver despite her best efforts. The failure was caused by improvisation on her part, trying to compensate for biting more than she could chew to begin with.

In that same scene, she fucks up Carmy's recipe to ferment the pasta. Too much acid, when he had suggested her to add acid to another of her original dishes before. This was a subconscious response to how badly she fears to disappoint him, yet she does. Simple instructions, something she has done before, fucked up (remember the stock incident, even if it wasn't her fault, she felt humiliated). Pros to Carmy for actually reacting as a friend this time and the next scenario, even if that didn't help Sydney's self-critic too much.

Next time they cook together, Sydney fucks up another recipe, one of her own. Too much salt. Again, something she has done before.

And then, Carmy ditches her.

She has to go for inspiration alone, and what does she imagine as a possible signature dish? A pasta dish. It makes sense; it is an Italian restaurant, after all.

When she imagines this dish, she imagines it plated on the circular black plate Carmy liked, the only one he wanted.

Later, after fighting with Carmy, she tries to make that pasta dish she imagined but fails at it.

She cannot improvise or be creative because the last time she did that, she was punished by losing her business. And then made a recipe of her own, or tried to collaborate on another one, fucked up in front of her partner and idol. All these cases, in her mind, it connected to a pasta dish.

images by @heardchef

She has failed in the same area (pasta) in different scenarios (Carmy and his standards, that is the same as saying the industry standard, her business, fucking a recipe) doubting herself to the point she has locked herself in an art block.

About Carmy ditching her on the food tour, for what we know, she may think that was something Carmy did on purpose as a way of saying, "You are a CDC now. This is your problem." She spoke to everyone all day, saying she had a partner, only to realize there is no such thing as a partnership at the top of this industry; you can pull your weight, or you sit your ass down. Nobody wants to feel like death weight in a partnership, and now she may feel she is lacking in the things that made Carmy choose her; that is why, in 2x09, under the table, she goes, "You could do this without me." The reassurance coming from Carmy completes her arc.

Now, these some other thoughts on this:

Sydney may still only be able to define her own culinary success by the things that had made Carmy successful. Let's remember she is working for his family restaurant. Most recipes are his family recipes (filled with trauma, but we are not going to touch that today). He is the mold she cannot fit in, the plat in which she doesn't provide anything yet, to her eyes. This is a very common problem for artistic people, success is only defined by the people before you, if your own creative voice doesn't fit that mold, you may think you are not good, or ready.

She considers his experience more valuable than her own instincts, so I really hope she gets to resolve that.

The inspirations he decides on would be pretty interesting since now she was only trying to fit the mold of her previous failures. Something is to be said about a woman of color, with a culture of her own, trying to fit in a Western-oriented industry, fighting to be taken seriously in what is considered "high-end cuisine." Someone made a post of a female black chef who won a chef competition combining her Italian and African heritage, something like that (at least until she gets her own spot), would be pretty neat.

Finally, and to aggravate everything, SHE IS RUNNING FULL SPEED. The sense of urgency that was very evident in s1. we don't know what makes her this way (it may be "working twice as hard to get the same recognition" or a different type of trauma). “Growing too much too fast" on her business, gambling on a shot on a kinda disgraced star chef in a chaotic environment, pressuring Carmy to change the restaurant on s1, pushing her dish to the food critic, all that collapsing on her all at once. Then she took care of her own and Carmy’s responsibilities on s2, because she tough that was expected of her. Too much, too fast. If she ever wants to make a path of her own, she needs to heal this.

#Sydney you are my queen #you will blow us all away #sydcarmy #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #the bear fx #the bear #sydney x carmy #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear meta #carmy x sydney #chef kiss

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