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peachycocaine · 2 months ago

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some ideas for you (if you want them) <3

brothers bff!thanos who has been secretly fucking you for years and is always threatening to tell on you two to your brother whenever you’re being a brat but you always beg him not to because you don’t want your little secret to end (and then of course you have to *thank him* for not telling)

or!

reader and thanos have an only fans and they keep getting recognized for it (whether that be in the games or just in public) and people always say gross stuff to you and it makes you sad :( (this could end up being smut or angst or fluff or any combo tbh)

or!

you’re broke and the only place you can afford to rent is a room in some dude named thanos’s house… the first few months are chill but he keeps stealing your undies (he’s not at all slick about it) and whenever he asks you to come watch shows with him in the living room he sticks his hand down your pants (never actually *doing* anything but just to show you that he can)… then finally you realize you’re not gonna be able to pay rent this month and he just smiles because there are other forms of payment :) (this one could be headcannons or an actual story)

Okay cuz why did these actually eat hello?? Thank u sm noonie i've been yearning for ideas!! i'll try to do all of these, no promises though might end up procrastinating :/

Sealed deal

Pairings: pervy landlord!thanos x fem!reader

Tw: p in v, unprotected sex (rmbr to wrap it before you tap it), dry humping, mentions of drug usage, language

You had been financially struggling for a long time, you didn't have a place of your own to stay at. Though your friend let you live with her for 2 weeks, she eventually told you she couldn't let you live with her any longer. And you understood that, you were living with her free of charge and she had to cover for your expenses. She had to buy twice the amount of food and the electricity and water bills would come in double the cost due to you living with her. She was also struggling and so she had to do what she had to do. You did have a job, which paid minimum wage. Seeing your condition your friend suggested that you could live with one of her friend's, but you'd have to pay monthly rent of course. At first you weren't very fond of the idea since her said friend was a male but it was the only one thing you could afford right now. You turned up her offer and moved in with her friend.

His appearance was questionable but you had no other choice than to adjust. he wasn't really living lavish but his financial status was above average, he made his money off of his meaningless raps. At first living with him was easy, he didn't really bother you since he was always too busy doing drugs or trying to come up with new rap lyrics or he'd just be outside with his friends. But after 2 or 3 months, you noticed that alot of your panties went missing. At first you shook it off thinking they got lost, but too many of them had gone missing. And ofcourse the culprit was the man that lived with you. He gave 0 fucks about hiding it too, you could walk into his bedroom and you'd find your panties laying on his bed. You just took them back without confronting him about it, trying to ignore the fact that the man you lived with and will be living with for a good while was a pervert.

As time went on, interactions between you two became more frequent. He'd ask you to join him on the couch at times, though you'd always hesitate before you went because everytime you did he'd sneak touches to your thighs or brush his arm against your tit and call it an accident. He'd shove his hands down your pants, letting it rest against your clothed pussy as he watched your shift uncomfortably, at times he'd press his palm harder against your core. You didn't really say anything, well, more like you couldn't because you knew if you protested against him he could kick you right out. You tolerated his panty stealing habit until you found one of your panties covered in some slimey substance. You instantly dropped it when you realized that slimey gooey substance was his cum. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible but you knew you couldn't.

You spent half the money you earned from working your ass off on clothes and other necessities, forgetting to save some for rent. You realized you were short on rent money and panic set it. Maybe you could ask thanos to give you one more month and pay off your rent after you earn more, but you knew thanos wasn't that generous or sympathetic. Later that evening he approached you and you just stood there hoping he'd forgot about the rent. "Hey, y'know its time to pay up right? Come on" he sticks his hand out, expecting you to hand him money. You chew your lower lip before gathering up the courage to speak. "U-uhm right so.. im short on money right now but could you please just give me one more month? I promise i'll pay full by next month" you heart was thumping in your chest, waiting for his response. He just looked at you and gave you a smile. His expression was unreadable, you couldn't really tell if his smile meant a yes or no. He stepped closer to you, towering over you as he leaned in "it doesn't work that way senõrita, now does it?" His breath fanned over your ear before he stepped back. You started fiddling with your fingers, growing more and more anxious about what you could do.

"I don't have the money on me, i really cant do anything about that, you have to understand, please." You pleaded hoping he'd show some mercy and let it slide this time. He rubbed his chin acting like he was thinking "hmm.. you could do one thing though.." his tone suggestive. "A-and what could that be..?" You saw right through his intentions, you knew what kind of man he was. He scanned your body up and down, practically eye-fucking you. Your body tensed at the way he looked at you. "Come on, don't act all innocent doll. Y'know what im talking about." He smirked at you and you just bit your lip. You knew exactly what he meant, he wanted you to pay with your body and you knew he had you cornered. You bunched up your shirt in your fists and just simply nodded, giving him a greenlight to do whatever he wanted to you. He was quick to jump at you, you fell back and landed on the couch as he eagerly started kissing you, almost devouring you whole. You just laid there, letting it happen as he caged you in. His hands were roaming around your body eagerly, exploring your skin like theres no tomorrow. He roughly squeezed your breast as his mouth never left yours, you moaned into his mouth making him shove his tongue deeper down your throat. He pulled away from you, panting as a string of saliva connected your mouths. You looked anywhere but at him, not wanting to see his face as he took advantage of you. He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, his thumb tracing your bottom lip as he started grinding his bulge against your clothed sex.

"Do you feel that? Feel how hard you make me?" His voice was raspy and breathy as he rubbed his groin against your crotch. You tried supressing your moans by biting your lip, trying not to give him the enjoyment of this situation. He rolled his hips and you could feel his hard throbbing cock through his sweats and of course he wasn't wearing boxers. His movements came to a halt and he started pulling his sweats down. "Undress." It was a command not a question. You did as you were told and took off your clothes while he did the same.

You two were skin to skin now, his naked form on top of yours. He looked down at you, admiring every inch of your bare body. "Fuck i can't believe you've been hiding this gorgeous body of yours from me since months." He chuckled as he spread your thighs apart further and positioned himself between you. He ran his cock up and down your slit before tapping the head on your clit a few times, earning a moan from you. Your moan gave him a head start as he began pushing his tip in, resulting in you biting your fist. He was bigger than you thought and the stretch made you want to scream. You let out a pained whimper as he began slowly pushing each inch into your tight pussy, splitting you apart on his cock with each inch. He let out a groan as he bottomed down, he was kind enough to give you time to adjust before he began rocking his hips gently. You covered your mouth with your hand trying to stop the moans that were forcefully pulled out of your throat. You hated the fact that it felt so fucking good, his fat head grazing your G spot with each thrust. He cooed and peeled your hand away from your mouth "c'mon dont hide those moans from me now, i needa hear how good i make you feel" he said as he dipped his head down, planting rough kisses to your neck. He started thrusting his hips into you faster, his dick slammed in and out of you. Your hands instantly flew to his hair, tugging on it as he bit down on your neck. He marked your neck before licking the bite mark "look at you taking dick like a good girl" his breathing heavy as he pulled away from your neck to admire your face.

The way your lips parted and tears pricked your eyes made his cock throb inside you. He pulled all the way out till only his head was in before ramming his dick back into you, aggressively fucking his cock into you as he watched your tits bounce with each of his thrusts. The sight before him made him almost lose control and cum right then. He eagerly stuck his hand between the both of you and started messily rubbing your clit. He was eager to make you cum, he wanted you to cover his dick in your cum. Your back arched as your nails dug into his back as he began rubbing your clit. Feeling tension build up in your stomach, you felt yourself getting closer with each of his thrusts. He felt your walls spasm around his cock, noticing that you were about to cum "gonna make a mess all over my cock princess? Go ahead, cum on my fucking dick like the little whore you are" he lifted up one of your legs to get a better angle, his dick pounding into you deeper now. After a few thrusts, you came undone on his cock. Your body fell limp beneath him as he kept snapping his hips into yours. His hips stuttered as he came closer to release. With one swift thrust, he burried himself deep inside you. Painting your insides white with his cum.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. He pulled out his now soft dick, watching in awe as his cum gushed out of your used cunt. "Payment succesful"

#choi su bong #player 230 #squid game #thanos #thanos smut #thanos squid game #thanos x fem reader #thanos x reader #squid game 2

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clockwayswrites · 9 months ago

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So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)

---

“You are supposed to be home.”

Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.

(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)

“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”

“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”

Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”

“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.

Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)

Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.

There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.

“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.

Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.

It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.

He could use hope.

He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.

Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.

Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.

Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.

Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.

(As long as he remembered.)

#dp x dc #spirit halloween ship #danny/bruce

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months ago

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Epic Systems, a lethal health record monopolist

Epic Systems makes the dominant electronic health record (EHR) system in America; if you're a doctor, chances are you are required to use it, and for every hour a doctor spends with a patient, they have to spend two hours doing clinically useless bureaucratic data-entry on an Epic EHR.

How could a product so manifestly unfit for purpose be the absolute market leader? Simple: as Robert Kuttner describes in an excellent feature in The American Prospect, Epic may be a clinical disaster, but it's a profit-generating miracle:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-10-01-epic-dystopia/

At the core of Epic's value proposition is "upcoding," a form of billing fraud that is beloved of hospital administrators, including the "nonprofit" hospitals that generate vast fortunes that are somehow not characterized as profits. Here's a particularly egregious form of upcoding: back in 2020, the Poudre Valley Hospital in Ft Collins, CO locked all its doors except the ER entrance. Every patient entering the hospital, including those receiving absolutely routine care, was therefore processed as an "emergency."

In April 2020, Caitlin Wells Salerno – a pregnant biologist – drove to Poudre Valley with normal labor pains. She walked herself up to obstetrics, declining the offer of a wheelchair, stopping only to snap a cheeky selfie. Nevertheless, the hospital recorded her normal, uncomplicated birth as a Level 5 emergency – comparable to a major heart-attack – and whacked her with a $2755 bill for emergency care:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/27/crossing-a-line/#zero-fucks-given

Upcoding has its origins in the Reagan revolution, when the market-worshipping cultists he'd put in charge of health care created the "Prospective Payment System," which paid a lump sum for care. The idea was to incentivize hospitals to provide efficient care, since they could keep the difference between whatever they spent getting you better and the set PPS amount that Medicare would reimburse them. Hospitals responded by inventing upcoding: a patient with controlled, long-term coronary disease who showed up with a broken leg would get coded for the coronary condition and the cast, and the hospital would pocket both lump sums:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/13/a-punch-in-the-guts/#hayek-pilled

The reason hospital administrators love Epic, and pay gigantic sums for systemwide software licenses, is directly connected to the two hours that doctors spent filling in Epic forms for every hour they spend treating patients. Epic collects all that extra information in order to identify potential sources of plausible upcodes, which allows hospitals to bill patients, insurers, and Medicare through the nose for routine care. Epic can automatically recode "diabetes with no complications" from a Hierarchical Condition Category code 19 (worth $894.40) as "diabetes with kidney failure," code 18 and 136, which gooses the reimbursement to $1273.60.

Epic snitches on doctors to their bosses, giving them a dashboard to track doctors' compliance with upcoding suggestions. One of Kuttner's doctor sources says her supervisor contacts her with questions like, "That appointment was a 2. Don’t you think it might be a 3?"

Robert Kuttner is the perfect journalist to unravel the Epic scam. As a journalist who wrote for The New England Journal of Medicine, he's got an insider's knowledge of the health industry, and plenty of sources among health professionals. As he tells it, Epic is a cultlike, insular company that employs 12.500 people in its hometown of Verona, WI.

The EHR industry's origins start with a GW Bush-era law called the HITECH Act, which was later folded into Obama's Recovery Act in 2009. Obama provided $27b to hospitals that installed EHR systems. These systems had to more than track patient outcomes – they also provided the data for pay-for-performance incentives. EHRs were already trying to do something very complicated – track health outcomes – but now they were also meant to underpin a cockamamie "incentives" program that was supposed to provide a carrot to the health industry so it would stop killing people and ripping off Medicare. EHRs devolved into obscenely complex spaghetti systems that doctors and nurses loathed on sight.

But there was one group that loved EHRs: hospital administrators and the private companies offering Medicare Advantage plans (which also benefited from upcoding patients in order to soak Uncle Sucker):

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8649706/

The spread of EHRs neatly tracks with a spike in upcharging: "from 2014 through 2019, the number of hospital stays billed at the highest severity level increased almost 20 percent…the number of stays billed at each of the other severity levels decreased":

https://oig.hhs.gov/oei/reports/OEI-02-18-00380.pdf

The purpose of a system is what it does. Epic's industry-dominating EHR is great at price-gouging, but it sucks as a clinical tool – it takes 18 keystrokes just to enter a prescription:

https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamanetworkopen/fullarticle/2729481

Doctors need to see patients, but their bosses demand that they satisfy Epic's endless red tape. Doctors now routinely stay late after work and show up hours early, just to do paperwork. It's not enough. According to another one of Kuttner's sources, doctors routinely copy-and-paste earlier entries into the current one, a practice that generates rampant errors. Some just make up random numbers to fulfill Epic's nonsensical requirements: the same source told Kuttner that when prompted to enter a pain score for his TB patients, he just enters "zero."

Don't worry, Epic has a solution: AI. They've rolled out an "ambient listening" tool that attempts to transcribe everything the doctor and patient say during an exam and then bash it into a visit report. Not only is this prone to the customary mistakes that make AI unsuited to high-stakes, error-sensitive applications, it also represents a profound misunderstanding of the purpose of clinical notes.

The very exercise of organizing your thoughts and reflections about an event – such as a medical exam – into a coherent report makes you apply rigor and perspective to events that otherwise arrive as a series of fleeting impressions and reactions. That's why blogging is such an effective practice:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

The answer to doctors not having time to reflect and organize good notes is to give them more time – not more AI. As another doctor told Kuttner: "Ambient listening is a solution to a self-created problem of requiring too much data entry by clinicians."

EHRs are one of those especially hellish public-private partnerships. Health care doctrine from Reagan to Obama insisted that the system just needed to be exposed to market forces and incentives. EHRs are designed to allow hospitals to win as many of these incentives as possible. Epic's clinical care modules do this by bombarding doctors with low-quality diagnostic suggestions with "little to do with a patient’s actual condition and risks," leading to "alert fatigue," so doctors miss the important alerts in the storm of nonsense elbow-jostling:

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5058605/

Clinicians who actually want to improve the quality of care in their facilities end up recording data manually and keying it into spreadsheets, because they can't get Epic to give them the data they need. Meanwhile, an army of high-priced consultants stand ready to give clinicians advise on getting Epic to do what they need, but can't seem to deliver.

Ironically, one of the benefits that Epic touts is its interoperability: hospitals that buy Epic systems can interconnect those with other Epic systems, and there's a large ecosystem of aftermarket add-ons that work with Epic. But Epic is a product, not a protocol, so its much-touted interop exists entirely on its terms, and at its sufferance. If Epic chooses, a doctor using its products can send files to a doctor using a rival product. But Epic can also veto that activity – and its veto extends to deciding whether a hospital can export their patient records to a competing service and get off Epic altogether.

One major selling point for Epic is its capacity to export "anonymized" data for medical research. Very large patient data-sets like Epic's are reasonably believed to contain many potential medical insights, so medical researchers are very excited at the prospect of interrogating that data.

But Epic's approach – anonymizing files containing the most sensitive information imaginable, about millions of people, and then releasing them to third parties – is a nightmare. "De-identified" data-sets are notoriously vulnerable to "re-identification" and the threat of re-identification only increases every time there's another release or breach, which can used to reveal the identities of people in anonymized records. For example, if you have a database of all the prescribing at a given hospital – a numeric identifier representing the patient, and the time and date when they saw a doctor and got a scrip. At any time in the future, a big location-data breach – say, from Uber or a transit system – can show you which people went back and forth to the hospital at the times that line up with those doctor's appointments, unmasking the person who got abortion meds, cancer meds, psychiatric meds or other sensitive prescriptions.

The fact that anonymized data can – will! – be re-identified doesn't mean we have to give up on the prospect of gleaning insight from medical records. In the UK, the eminent doctor Ben Goldacre and colleagues built an incredible effective, privacy-preserving "trusted research environment" (TRE) to operate on millions of NHS records across a decentralized system of hospitals and trusts without ever moving the data off their own servers:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/08/the-fire-of-orodruin/#are-we-the-baddies

The TRE is an open source, transparent server that accepts complex research questions in the form of database queries. These queries are posted to a public server for peer-review and revision, and when they're ready, the TRE sends them to each of the databases where the records are held. Those databases transmit responses to the TRE, which then publishes them. This has been unimaginably successful: the prototype of the TRE launched during the lockdown generated sixty papers in Nature in a matter of months.

Monopolies are inefficient, and Epic's outmoded and dangerous approach to research, along with the roadblocks it puts in the way of clinical excellence, epitomizes the problems with monopoly. America's health care industry is a dumpster fire from top to bottom – from Medicare Advantage to hospital cartels – and allowing Epic to dominate the EHR market has somehow, incredibly, made that system even worse.

Naturally, Kuttner finishes out his article with some antitrust analysis, sketching out how the Sherman Act could be brought to bear on Epic. Something has to be done. Epic's software is one of the many reasons that MDs are leaving the medical profession in droves.

Epic epitomizes the long-standing class war between doctors who want to take care of their patients and hospital executives who want to make a buck off of those patients.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

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/2024/10/02/upcoded-to-death/#thanks-obama

Image: Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

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

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mr2swap · 3 months ago

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Swap syndrome 2: armpit addiction.

-damn heat… -

The time on my cell phone showed 2:05, the idiot Travis had made me wait but in a way that made me happy I would have to charge him $50 more for being late.

Today was a very fucking day at the gym, it was so hot that I had to change my shirt, but still the rancid aroma of sweat coming from my hairy armpits filled the interior with my car, I was in the same parking lot of the gym where it is only A couple of minutes had left a huge sweat stain on the floor.

But despite everything I loved my new life, after the great shift and finding myself in this boy's hot and muscular body, from the beginning I knew this was a good thing, when I woke up in Travis's bedroom and looked down to see two juicy pecs, a sculpted six-pack and long, hairy legs, the first thing I did was take out my huge cock that was hidden among a leafy bush of hair and give myself the best handjob of my entire life.

It had been a little over a year since that moment, I quickly got used to Travis' life, kept his muscles big and strong and all thanks to his tiny YouTube channel where he showed all his exercise routines, but that was all wasted talent for Travis' glorious, beautiful body.

I no longer had my college degree or anyone to turn to, yet I was able to easily make money from all these fags, who wanted to sleep with me and this body.

Still not in the same city where I used to live, I watched the news and learned everything that had been happening in the world and that the real Travis was out there in my tired, flabby 40-year-old office worker body.

A tapping on my car window brought me out of my thoughts, it was the real Travis I grimaced in disgust as I looked at my old face once more in front of me, I looked at the time on my phone once more, and now it was 2:07 that now meant $70.

The door of my car and Travis jumped inside it, his first action was to completely inhale the disgusting smell inside the car, after that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, After that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, but in one movement I moved his old, ugly face away from me.

-You know the rules Travis, first I want the bills-

He extended one of my hands while he took out his wallet and extended a small wad of cash. In one quick movement, I snatched the bills from him and began to count them one by one while a nervous expression formed on the real Travis's face.

-Are you fucking with me? Only $500? -

There was nothing left of the old confident Travis, the confident, outgoing boy had disappeared, in his place there was only a perverted faggot who paid me for a few minutes of my attention due to swap syndrome. When we swapped our bodies, I thought I would get rid of him to always, but this pathetic middle-aged man was clinging to me like a leech trying to get close to me with his twisted homosexual intentions. I didn't really care what he did with my old body, but I thought I could make some money a month by squeezing every penny of this situation.

-Please! Just, just 5 minutes! I had to pay this month's rent and my landlord told me that if I was late another month he would throw me out on the street.-

I rolled my eyes as Travis the bitch kept giving me stupid excuses about how hard it was to find a good job now that he was a middle-aged man and he was tired all the time from working so much.

-Okay, just shut your fucking mouth.-

I put my hand on his head and pushed him into one of my hairy pits and choked his nose with the sour sweat that was collecting in my armpits. The initial struggle quickly turned into pleasure, I could feel Tyler's breathing slow. He shook until he filled his lungs, his mouth savored the curly hairs of my armpit and sucked up the small drops of sweat with his dirty tongue as if he had crossed a desert.

Tyler's small hands slid to his crotch and he began to frantically massage his cock over his pants, occasionally Tyler would move away from my armpit to get some air and lick my muscular arms with his disgusting sticky tongue, I watched as they passed minutes on my cell phone and before 5 minutes had passed, Tyler's small wrinkled cock soiled his pants with semen.

I pushed Tyler away and a satisfied smile formed on Tyler's face, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover from the addictive experience he had just experienced, a few hairs from my armpit had stuck to his face and a stain of sweat had formed on the collar of his shirt.

I didn't have time for this, this experience had made me horny, I wanted to unload the enormous amount of cum that wanted to escape from my huge hairy balls, but the disgusting man next to me was not worthy of this...nor did I have another $500

I extended one of my long, muscular arms and opened the door of my luxurious sports car.

-Now get out bitch, see you next week-

As soon as I clean every trace of Tyler from my car, I'll call some of my girls, so I can fill their pussies with my beautiful, hot seed.

This is a second installment of the swap syndrome story, but the only thing they share in common is the same syndrome that is spreading among those affected by the great shift, you can see more by visiting my Ko-fi page:

Hello, if you liked this story, and you want more, you can take a look at my new Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

#body swap #male body swap #bodyswap #body switch #the great shift #male transformation

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sashaisready · 5 months ago

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Starting Over: Chapter 5 - Better

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Hi! I'm sorry this took so long, work has been kicking my bum lately and I haven't had much writing time. But it's here - the final part! I hope you like it. Thanks to everyone who has reblogged/commented/engaged with this story - it means so much. Thank-you!!

💔

One week later…

You were cleaning tables when you glanced at the diner’s clock and realised it was almost 9am. Friday was here once again…

…Would he be in as usual?

It was raining heavily outside, throughout the early shift your regulars had rushed in and shaken the sogginess off their coats and umbrellas once they were safely over the threshold of the diner. You’d chatted with them, commiserating with them about ‘this damn weather’ and promising to warm them up with coffee and breakfast.

You’d spent your time off this last week popping into the hospital to see Lou. He was doing well, making progress, but the road to recovery was long. He needed to make major adjustments to his lifestyle and potentially engage in physical therapy as they think he’d also had a small stroke. He got his personal mail delivered to the diner and asked you to open it and keep him updated with anything pressing. The medical bills you’d seen were already dizzying and his insurance only covered part of it, but you couldn’t bother him what that just yet – he didn’t need the stress on top of everything else. You’d figure it out. You always did.

Lou had made you acting manager to pick up the slack while he was gone. You were pulling extra hours, working overtime to ensure the ship remained afloat while the captain remained on the shore. It was tough, but you couldn’t deny you loved the buzz of being in charge – of keeping everything moving.

You hadn’t seen Bucky since that night at the hospital. He’d insisted on driving you home after you’d said goodbye to Lou, ignoring your protests that the subway was perfectly fine…

“The subway, doll? Fuck no. Not on my watch”.

You’d rolled your eyes, knowing you didn’t have the energy to fight him after the evening you’d had. He knew it too. You’d merely sighed and hopped into the back of his SUV as you gave him your new address, giving a little wave to Clint who was driving.

The two of you sat in the back in silence for the entire journey, you watched the city flying past you from the window and it felt strange that the outside world was just continuing around you like normal while yours had almost collapsed.

The car rolled to a stop in front of your building, and you turned to Bucky. He seemed to be studying you carefully, concern drawn across his features. Even after all this time and distance, the beauty of his face still took your breath away at times.

“Thank-you…for the ride. For dinner. For showing up…all of it,” you said softly.

He nodded stoically, “always. Look…no matter what happens between us, I’ll always show up for you if you need me. Any time, any place. And Lou is going to be just fine, alright?”

Almost instinctively you found your hand sliding across the leather of the seat towards him. He looked down as your hand moved to find his. You clasped your fingers around his metal digits, the cool sensation against your skin was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. They in turn wrapped around yours and the two of you sat holding hands for a short while. You didn’t speak or look at each other, just both existing in the moment and concentrating on the feeling of your hands entwined. You paused, wanting to say more – but unable to quite find the words.

Eventually you couldn’t bear the strange tension in the air. You gently withdrew your hand and cleared your throat as you shuffled across the seat towards the door.

“Well, thanks again. And for the ride, too”.

“Anytime. Nice building…” he peered out of the window at your apartment block.

“Ah yeah, thanks,” you said proudly.

“You doing okay, living there?” he asked quizzically in his Brooklyn-lilt, his brows furrowed.

“Mm…I mean, it’s not as fancy as your place,” you chuckled, “it’s kinda cramped and small, but it’s cosy and warm. And it’s mine,” you told him with fondness.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “My place was yours too, you know”.

You chewed on your lip, you hadn’t intended it as a slight against him. “I-I know Buck…but…you know what I meant”.

He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah…that’s good. I’m pleased for you, really”. His nose crinkled as he looked at you fondly. It was a little mannerism of his that you’d missed.

You shared a small smile before getting out of the car and heading inside. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look back at the car, a storm of emotions fighting to escape you. Your fatigue mixed with your anxieties about Lou, confusion about this sudden shift with Bucky now swelling. You could tell from the quiet behind you that the car hadn’t pulled away yet, no doubt waiting until you were safely off the street. You put your key in the door and quickly moved inside.

That was last week. You hadn’t spoken to him since, although you’d wondered if you should reach out. You thought he might’ve been in touch – a text, a call, but nothing. It was nice, he was leaving the ball in your court and not crowding you, respecting the boundaries you’d established. But part of you couldn’t shake the small sense of disappointment that lingered, too.

The fact was you couldn’t deny that something was stirring. Bucky, who you’d long written off and blacklisted for his betrayal, had started to be on your mind more and more. He had crept back into your brain.

You didn’t believe the old adage that time healed all wounds, but it had certainly helped. The space you’d had from him a year on from the incident had allowed you to find yourself again, the parts that you hadn’t realised you’d lost after diving headfirst into your relationship with Bucky. You still felt immense pain when you thought about what happened…but you also thought about how he had been true to his word. He hadn’t tried to force you back, not aggressively pursuing you or trying to talk you round. His weekly mornings at the diner had never felt pointed or manipulative. You believed that he was just happy to have you in his life, like he’d said. You’d since found your own place, started therapy and looked at your own issues, thrown yourself into work. Remembered who you were before you were ‘mob boss girlfriend’. You knew that what had happened with Bucky was not your fault, it wasn’t your job to reflect and change accordingly – that was all his. But still, having the space and time to work on yourself…it was refreshing. One small silver lining on this ugly, black cloud.

You’d also been on a few dates over the last few months. Nothing to write home about. A few nice guys, a few less than nice guys. Nothing had truly sparked for you; nobody had piqued your interest enough to want to really explore more than a few dinners or coffees. Maybe it was because of how things ended with Bucky, or you just hadn’t met someone right for you, or maybe you were just off dating altogether…But it wasn’t something you felt real enthusiasm for at this point. But that was okay. It had been fun to dip your toe back in the dating pool, and you weren’t averse to trying again when the moment was right, or you met the right person.

Unless of course, it was because someone else was on your mind.

Your slow burn friendship with Bucky had crept on you, taken you by surprise. The man who had once broken your heart now had a new place in your life. It was strange, but in some ways, you knew him better than you had when you were together. Despite your previous connection - your conversations had opened territory up you’d never covered together before, previously too caught up in passion and heat to dive as deeply as you had now.

And most importantly, he had shown up for you that night at the hospital, been there for you without you needing to ask. He had brought you dinner and stayed by your side without a word, because he knew you needed not to be alone – needed support. You were touched by his care for you, his willingness to clear his schedule for you at the drop of a hat. It meant a lot. It meant everything. He had intuited how you felt and acted immediately. He was there.

You didn’t know what it meant, if anything. Something had changed, the safe barrier of diner breakfast chats had been crossed. Part of you was panicking – no! Don’t let him get close, not again! Remember what he did! But another part of you had missed him deeply, longed to hold him again and wake up to him each morning. Your thoughts were a spiralling mass of contradictions and conflict, nothing made sense.

You weren’t sure if you could ever truly forgive him for what happened.

But could you try?

Roscoe snapped you out of your thoughts as he passed you the latest batch mail on his way by. You thanked him, flicking through the junk mail until your attention was caught by the hospital logo on one of the envelopes. You winced, tentatively ripping open the paper as you braced yourself for the latest bill.

You cursed under your breath as you unveiled the total figure, a stupid amount of money. You spiralled as it sank in, wondering if Lou would have to sell the diner in order to settle his debt. You knew he didn’t have anywhere near enough in his savings. You thought about all the jobs that could be at stake, including yours, and your heart ached most of all knowing that the restaurant was Lou’s baby. It would break him to give it up.

Maybe you could call them, sort out a payment plan…something?

You tried to calm yourself down, thinking about what your therapist would say about your immediate jump to the worst-case scenario. Relax. You can fix this. Remember your mindfulness exercises. Life would find a way.

The opening of the front door pulled you from your catastrophising. You glanced over, making eye contact with a rather damp Bucky as he entered the diner. He sighed, shaking the rain from his coat as he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“A lovely morning…” he muttered, deadpan.

You smiled, stuffing the hospital bill into your apron pocket and going to grab the coffee jug, “Morning, Buck. Get a little wet?”

“A little,” he gruffed, slotting himself into his usual booth.

You chuckled as you filled up his mug.

“How’s Lou?” he asked, shaking the rain from his hair.

“He’s doing better, thanks for asking. They’ve got a whole treatment plan worked out for him - so that’s positive”.

“Good. Glad to hear. You over here running the show while he’s out?”

“Something like that,” you smiled, then shuffled on your feet as you realised you needed to talk to him. “Bucky, I-”

A loud clatter and exclamation from the kitchen cut you off, causing you both to look over at the disturbance. You sighed with exasperation.

“Ah. Duty calls…I’ll put your order in while I’m in there”.

You rushed off to sort out whatever mess waited for you in the kitchen as Bucky smiled playfully at your annoyance.

He noticed something had fallen out of your apron as you dashed off. A piece of paper. He leaned over to pick it off the floor for you in case you needed it. Before he realised it was private and had a chance to look away, his eyes were immediately drawn to the monstrous sum at the bottom of the page. Ah. He grimaced as he quickly put two and two together, folding the paper neatly and leaving it on the table. He took a sip of his coffee.

You appeared a little while later with his order, sighing heavily as you placed the plate in front of him.

“Sorry about that…Roscoe and Ron were fighting about if the bacon was too crispy, and some trays got caught up in the carnage. Never a dull moment around here…”

You suddenly noticed the paper on the table, your words trailing off as your eyes locked onto it. You snatched it away quickly, shoving it into your apron.

“That’s not…that’s-” you floundered, embarrassed for him to have seen it.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop. You dropped it, so I picked it up and then realised what it was,” he explained softly.

“It’s fine. I’m dealing with it,” you shrugged, desperate to appear nonchalant.

“Sit down, doll”, he said sternly.

You scoffed, “Bucky…I’m busy running a restaurant here…”

He paused, looked up and bellowed across the diner, “Roscoe! Ron! Handle things while your boss takes a break!”

You rolled your eyes, turning to see Roscoe and Ron nodding furiously as they scattered and suddenly started working harder than you’d ever seen them. They had always been afraid of Bucky. You stifled a laugh.

“Problem solved, now sit,” he gestured.

You reluctantly sat down opposite him, “Bucky…”

“We’re gonna talk”.

“I don’t need-”

“No. Let’s do this”, he said sternly.

You folded your arms in front of you, fully aware that you resembled a petulant teenager but not caring enough to stop.

Bucky cleared his throat, taking a sip of his coffee before picking up the letter. “Now, I don’t want to overstep…but I can take care of this you know…”

You shook your head. “No. Thanks for the offer, but no,” you told him firmly.

“Alright. That’s fine. So, Lou has enough to cover it?” he asked, “all of it?”

You nodded a bit too quickly, “mmhmm”.

Bucky caught it immediately, your lie. You noticed the quirk of his brow and the subtle rubbing of his lips together. Damn him.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he sipped his coffee again and ate a few forkfuls of his meal, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and tilted his head quizzically. “Guess it’s all wrapped up, then”.

You nodded again in agreement, but knew he wasn’t done.

He took his time, casually taking a few more bites of his breakfast and sipping his coffee. You knew his relaxed demeanour was a careful façade…you had somehow found yourself at the centre of a famed Bucky Barnes interrogation.

You tried to appear relaxed, as if you had nothing more to add.

“Because…” he started.

Ugh.

“…because, if he didn’t have enough. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”

“Mmm. It would. But it’s not…so…”

“Right”, he cut you off. “But if he didn’t – great eggs today by the way – if he didn’t, that would be putting this place at risk, right? All the staff here and their jobs. Your job?”

“Right,” you replied, your voice a little strained.

“And of course Lou himself…he loves this place. It’s his baby. I’m sure he’d be devastated if he had to give it up to pay his medical bills. Especially as the last thing he needs right now is more stress and financial worries on top of his ill health”. He paused again to eat, not even looking up.

You nodded; your eyes now slightly cloudy now.

“Yep…” you said meekly.

He looked up at you, his eyes intensely locked onto yours, gesturing towards you with the fork. He was in full swing now. The diner suddenly felt much hotter, you could feel tiny beads of sweat forming on your forehead and the back of your neck.

“And I hope it would be known, if that was the case of course, that my offer would have no strings attached. Because I could imagine someone might decline it out of pride, or concern that it would have conditions and that person would then be in some sort of debt to me…either financially or emotionally. And if that was the case, I’d want to reassure them that it would only be a friend looking out for a friend, helping because I want to, and I can, and God knows I should do something nice once in a while to even out my moral scales…”

The barrier broke and your tears finally escaped, the stress about Lou and this intimidating bill, and your confusion about how you felt for Bucky, all finally coming to the surface. You cupped your face in your hands as you quietly sobbed.

“I’m sorry, I just…I…”

Bucky moved like lightning, whipping around to your side of the booth as he swung in next to you.

“Hey…hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to be clear what my offer entailed; but I understand why you’d be reluctant to accept my help”.

He pulled a few napkins from the dispenser and tenderly wiped away your tears.

“It wouldn’t be a loan, doll, and you wouldn’t need to make nice with me to say thanks. You could call me an asshole and dump these eggs on my head, and I’d still pay in full with a smile. There’s no expectation here, no contract – legal or implied”.

You sniffed, looking up at him blearily, “you’d really do all that for me…but…why?”

He paused, then very delicately used his thumb to collect the tears forming at the side of your eye.

“You know why,” he said plainly.

Your heart panged, and you looked down at your hands in your lap, clutching at one of the now-soggy napkins he’d given you. You sniffed again as you regained your composure, suddenly feeling exposed in front of him. The two of you stared at one another for a few moments and you were so desperate to tell him everything, but you couldn’t form the words. You hoped he would elaborate and fill in that gap for you, but he didn’t.

He quietly got up, putting on his coat and placing some bills down on the table to cover his check. He leaned over and kissed you on the crown of your head, then used a finger to tilt your chin up to look at him.

“You don’t have to decide anything now,” he told you as he looked into your eyes, “Think it over. I’ll be back here next week like always”.

He smiled at you, then disappeared out into the street. You heard the roaring of the rain outside as the diner door opened, the little bell above the frame chiming to announce his departure.

You missed him already.

You looked down at the hospital bill in your hands, the total at the bottom practically screaming from the page.

He’d hurt you so badly, you weren’t sure if you could ever fully forgive him for that fateful night. You understood it had been his insecurities, you understood he had lashed out after he thought his worst fears were realised – but that had only even explained his actions, not justified them.

Although…he’d always been there over the last year. Slow and steady, but he’d taken the time to rebuild his relationship with you platonically. He’d let you manage the pace, never tried to force anything more than you were willing to give him.

…and he’d been there for you.

He continued to be there for you.

It wasn’t about the money. He wasn’t trying to pay you off to win favour. He was just trying to be there for you, and this was something he had the power and resources to help you with.

He was your friend.

He loved you. He’d continued to love you…

“Are you back off break, boss?” Roscoe rudely interrupted your train of thought, “Ron said that the fryer-”

You were pulling off your apron before your brain could even catch up with your body.

“Nope,” you shot back, firing out of the booth at full speed as you tossed the apron at him on your way out, “a little longer…”

You left Roscoe gawping in your wake as you sailed through the front door. You yelped in shock as you stepped out into the downpour, you’d forgotten about the mini storm happening beyond the restaurant doors. It was so dark outside it looked more like early evening than the morning hours. You looked down at your immediately soaked uniform, your work shoes flooding as you traipsed through the puddles…

Focus!

You surveyed the street, your eyes catching a brief glimpse of the SUV turning the corner. The instantly recognisable JBB107 plates drawing your focus in the split second before they vanished.

And so you ran.

You sprinted after the SUV waving your arms, shouting for it to stop. A concerned elderly lady asked if you were okay but you sailed on by. You must’ve looked utterly insane.

You rounded the corner and rushed up behind the SUV as it slowed. The back door flew open, and Bucky suddenly appeared out of it, a look of horror on his face as the vehicle pulled over.

“Doll! Jesus Christ, what the- are you okay??” he shouted to you as you approached.

You didn’t answer, just flung yourself inside the car as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Bucky slid across the seat to give you room. The divider screen was up so you couldn’t see the driver. One less person to witness your mortifying display, at least.

“Fuck…you must be freezing,” he muttered as he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and leaning over to close the car door behind you.

You were, your teeth chattered. Your hair was wet and matted, your uniform soaked through.

“Bucky…” you said hoarsely as you dripped all over his plush car interior.

“What is it, doll?” he asked, his eyes wide and alarmed, “what’s going on??”

You couldn’t find the words so you acted purely on instinct, you cupped his face and kissed him. Kissed him hard. Kissed him longingly. He caught up quickly and kissed you back, his fingers tangled in your soaking hair. It was desperate, messy. Your teeth clashed and your cheeks bumped. It had been so long that you’d lost each other’s rhythm with this. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. You couldn’t have waited any longer.

He pulled away, gawping at you incredulously as he held your face in his hands.

“Doll…does this mean?”

“Let’s go slow,” you whispered, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. The effort you’ve put into rebuilding us from the ground up…for being my friend…for never pushing me…for Lou…but I’m not sure I’m ready to jump into this headfirst…whatever this is…”

He nodded, “of course, anything you want”.

“I’m not sure if I can…fully forgive. But I want to try,” you told him softly as you pressed your forehead to his.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as he sighed. A sigh of long held tension, of relief.

“Thank-you for giving me a chance…I didn’t think you ever would again,” he admitted.

“Yeah…well neither did I,” you laughed,

“What changed your mind?”

“Well…. how you showed up for me with Lou has made me rethink a lot of things. Plus…the money”.

He laughed, “the money? Really? This whole time I just needed to pay you off?”

“No…”, You rolled your eyes, “it was more that you offered, but you didn’t force anything, and you made it clear it was no strings attached. It’s like…you want to help me, but you trust me to make my own decisions and don’t just try and fix it all for me, like you used to. I just…it made me realise how much I’ve missed you. But it’s gotta be different this time…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…like…I want to stay in my apartment. And I want to keep my job,” you said firmly.

He nodded, “yeah. Of course”.

“Maybe I’d move back in with you one day…but I want my space”.

“Okay. You got it,”.

You smiled, “yeah?”

He smiled back at you, the smile that still made you weak at the knees. “Doll? If it means you’re by my side…Of course ‘yeah’. Anything you want. And I have some conditions too…”

“What?” you frowned. “This isn’t exactly a two-way negotiation, Buck…”

“Just…listen. They’re conditions for me. I promise I’m going to trust you entirely, and to communicate you with you properly – not let my emotions get the best of me. I’m a different man to who I was the last time we were together. I know how lucky I am to get this second chance with you. I’m not fucking it up. I'm gonna be...better”.

He spoke earnestly with such conviction that it was almost aggressive. You nodded gently, squeezing his hand. You believed him.

“Alright…well, let’s give it a shot, shall we?”

He grinned, “I can’t believe you’re here…”

“Me neither. But…I’m sorry I’m dripping rainwater all over your car”.

He shrugged. “Fuck the car”.

And then he kissed you again.

Maybe you did believe in happy endings.

THE END

There we have it! I hope you liked where it went. I know some of you didn't think she should ever forgive him and I understand, and I'm sorry if you're disappointed! But in my eyes he had shown her he was willing to change...and she wasn't trying to rush back into anything heavy. Thank you for reading!

If you liked this story, please consider supporting me with my Ko-Fi link 💐

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #starting over fic #sebastian stan

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flokali · 1 year ago

Text

— Concept: Student Yandere and Professor Darling

Warning: GN! Reader, blackmail, n/on-con, d/ub-con, age gap, student-teacher relationship, push-over reader, unfair ending, n/oncon recording, uhh ask to tag!

A/N: just a concept that plagued me for a while... hhhhhhh;; i'm so normal ab this

Any dynamic that involve an authority figure and a subordinate, no matter how innocent they may initially seem, are doomed from the start for both of the parties involved. There’s always going to be an underlying power imbalance, someone who holds the authority over the other; there is no nice way to put it, unfortunately.

Most of the time, in fics, I see a lot of Yan professors creeping on their students, but the thought of a student Yan harassing their beloved professor has been plaguing my mind.

The relationship starts sweetly, you’ve noticed a certain student in your course that’s been falling behind, making mistakes that should have long been addressed, their work is always late or partially done and you’re growing slightly annoyed at them for wasting your time and misusing theirs as well. You ended up offering them private tutoring when you found out you were the only professor’s whose class who they’d been treating like a joke.

They reject it immediately; seemingly embarrassed that you’d even offered. You try to calm their nerves down, you’re pretty young yourself, you only graduated a few years ago and you won’t charge them, it won't be a daily thing but they can pop into your office so you can review and work on assignments and other material they’ve been failing at. The hesitant look on their face seems to slowly be melting off the longer you explain your reasoning.

You continue insisting, you lay out the facts as they are; they’re a brilliant student who has been passing all other courses and extracurricular activities with flying colors, so why is that your course has become such a challenge to them? You have seen them work and the way they behave during class, you’ve even noticed how some students go to them to try and clear up any questions and ask to study together with them. You’d heard your colleagues rave about them being easily one of the college’s star students, so it’s either that they’re making shit up and lying to their peers, which you sincerely doubt since you’ve seen their works, or they were purposefully trying to fail your class.

Maybe they thought it’d be easier, decided to try it and got it in their head they didn’t have to try – after all, it wasn’t as if all of the work they’ve handed is bad, there’s some clear understanding of what they’re doing, it’s just that they keep on messing up some things, even if it means inconsistencies in their work, the assignments that made up less percentage of the overall grade were done well enough that you could fail them but anything that was actually important was clearly half-assed. They were nailing the basics in one essay and then completely misrepresenting them on the next.

You explain your concerns; you’re genuinely worried your class might hold them back from graduating with their peers, if things kept going on like this, they’d fail your class and if they did, they’d have to repeat the semester and risk graduating a year or so late. It’s not the end of the world to repeat a semester, but it’s avoidable in their case and you don’t understand why they seemingly insist on failing.

It’s then that they pull out a card they’d been holding on to dearly for a situation such as this, they’d hooked you in with a months long performance and it all relied on this moment, it was a disgustingly perfect story meant to pull at your heartstrings and lead you into their honey sweet trap;

They start going on about a sob story about their parents’ jobs and finance, how they had been struggling for a while since their parents cut them partially off for choosing a college out of their town, and how they’re supposed to provide for themselves and pay rent and bills, about how their schedule is always so busy trying to balance college, their friendships, mending their relationship with their parents, and their job on top of all the studying they’ve been doing. Your class had unfortunately been the least of their concerns and that they’re immensely sorry to have worried you and that they are willing to do anything to make up for their past grades. They can’t believe they’d let themselves go in your course and they’re deeply ashamed because they enjoyed it greatly, but there was little they could to catch up now.

You can empathize with such a dilemma, being fresh out of college yourself, the memories of balancing relationships, work, and academics are still freshly etched into your mind.

They clearly seem burned out and your heart aches seeing a student as promising as them dim down so drastically. You’d hate to be one class that impedes them from graduating on time, you don't want to be the lone profesor responsible for slowing down such a valuable asset to society.

You sit them down and try to offer them some advice, you were in a similar situation when you were in college yourself, you try to explain the ways you managed to survive and bypass college, going into detail about your own problems and how you were able to live through it all. They seem visibly more relaxed during the conversation, nodding along and explaining their own feelings and hardships, you both manage to sympathize with each other and come to an arrangement.

It’s completely under the table since you are worried about what it might look like, but from now on until the end of this semester you’d use a more relaxed, less strict grading system for them, after all, they did have a legitimate reason for their behavior and they were willing to make up for it. That is, under the condition that they start taking tutoring classes from either yourself or a fellow classmate, they weren’t able to balance the studying schedule necessary so you’d try and manage at least one aspect of it for them to try and make their life a little bit easier. You reiterate that this must not come out, fully aware that you were breaking multiple rules but you were too much of a bleeding heart.

They agree gladly, but not before asking if you could be the tutor, when you’d questioned their request they explain themselves, seemingly embarrassed for their own reasoning;

“I don’t want it to get out that I’m failing your class, professor…” The smile they wear seems genuine and shy and you nod in understanding, college students are only older teenagers, after all, most of them are still stuck in their high school mentality and you wouldn’t put it past a bunch of immature people to try and mess with someone who was struggling. While the mindset eventually wears off, you understand why they could be self-conscious about it.

What you don’t know is that they’ve been planning for something like this to happen from the get go, always going out of their way to purposefully present themselves as a stupid, pathetic and incompetent student that would need their hot professor’s (your) help to pass the course.

During your first couple of sessions they work extra hard to make themselves seem as ditzy and clueless as possible, making as many mistakes and errors as humanly reasonable without getting you too annoyed at them. They even begin to dress in slightly more provocative ways than they would have before, their speech slowly morphs into a more flirtatious tone, their touches being lingering on your shoulders for longer than necessary, but you brush it off, trying to ignore the signs. Opting instead to think of it as a silly crush, choosing go try to focus on helping them get through this semester with either an above average grade.

It didn’t take too long for their grades to get better but with the current pace, you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough.

So, you ignore the uncomfortable, sinking feeling in your gut and suggest making your tutoring sessions more frequent - instead of once a week maybe twice, or even thrice if you could fit it into your schedule, if it was really necessary.

You didn’t expect them to suggest going to your place.

Originally, you’d suggested either the library or a cafe, but they said they felt too embarrassed and self-conscious at the idea of their peers watching them, they claimed they’d probably make fun of them for needing help for a course they’d been taking for almost a whole semester at that point. It’s silly, they know, but they can’t shake that shame off.

They insist on your place, but you reject the idea, they say it’s either there or at their place, they point out that anywhere else and you both risk either staff or some of the student body seeing you both together and getting the wrong idea. The conversation goes on for hours until you’re too exhausted to continue arguing with them and give in.

They are a good person, right? Even if the thought of a student knowing where you lived made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t like they’d do anything about it… right?

You try to limit the study space to your living room, the bathroom, and the kitchen every once in a while if you notice the snacks you had brought weren’t enough, but never further than that. Your bedroom and office were completely off limits, you’d made it explicitly clear that if you caught them wandering too far you’d have no choice but to kick them out and stop the tutoring, possibly even having to call the campus’ authorities if you felt they were getting too out of line – your reputation be damned.

They also were only allowed to come over during the weekends and on specific weekdays where no one would be able to catch them entering your apartment. You didn’t even want your neighbors to see them, even if you looked close in age you didn’t want to hear anything about a potential secret lover sneaking into your house.

They agree and promise to follow every single rule you’d put in place, they swear.

But it doesn’t take long for them to start going back on their word and start “exploring” your living space, it started small – simply walking around your living room, examining framed pictures, looking over books, memorizing the placement of your trinkets and decor, making a mental note of the colors you used in the space, they make sure to remember to try and look up where you got your cushions and everything, they start looking into you fridge and pantry to make see what you eat, if there’s any indication of a possible food allergy; it’s all investigative work for your future together.

It’s not too long before they’ve memorized your living room and are drawn to the rest of your house. They've gone to your bedroom and studied the space, taking note of the way you made your bed and how many pillows you have, they also have made a list of products you use and like, such as scents and soaps, to make sure your transition to their place is as smooth as possible. Soon, they could very well draw a floor plan of your place and recreate your home in the most basic of softwares.

The only reason you haven’t caught up to them is because they’ve taken to spiking your drinks with sleep medication, strong enough dosages that you’ll be knocked out for a while, but not enough that you’ll realize you were drugged.

It’s during your sleeping state that the next part of their plan starts to take action. They’ll purposefully plant evidence in your home of their presence and snap pictures, suddenly their underwear is in your laundry basket, and why are you wearing their hoodies to sleep, huh? They’re meticulously planned and staged pictures that make it look like you were engaging in a romantic relationship, but it’s not enough — they need more, something more extreme. More incriminating, something that would absolutely destroy your career and reputation if it came out.

What about a picture of them going down on you? Or one with their cum all over your face? Your naked figure cuddling up to their bare chest? Some makeup to look like hickies could look realistic in pictures too, you know. Maybe them on top of you… or you on top of them? Or one where your lips are sucking their fingers like a —! Ah, the thought has them blushing! All of these photos are like their dreams come true! You look like such a perfect spouse, taking their love~ They make sure to clean up the space, but they’re growing bolder and more confident in their work.

They even have videos of themselves jacking off on top of you, but they’re always so good at making it seem like you’re awake and participating in these activities! It really does look like you’re helping them get off with your own mouth.

You’re such a naughty professor seducing your innocent, sweet student like that!

It’s sick, they’re sick and they know it fully well but they don’t care, as long as they don’t get caught – there’s no way in hell they’ll stop.

Their grades begin improving and there’s no longer any fear of them failing your class, in fact you’d go as far to say they’ve easily become one of your best students in terms of grades. Things seem to be looking up and you’re pretty proud of yourself for having had a positive impact on them, which is why you come to the conclusion they won’t be needing your tutoring anymore.

You call them over to your office after classes, making sure to be as nice as possible. At first you were annoyed and put off by them, their initial behavior was unsettling and persistent, but after a couple of months of getting to know them you’ve grown to care for them and genuinely wish them the best, you’d pointed out how teaching them had been a joy and you’d always end the sessions feeling better than before, which is why you’d chosen to end the tutoring. You lay out the facts as they are, their grades have improved and there’s no longer any threat of them failing your class, you’d also be risking people misunderstanding the situation if it went any longer, if word came out you’d been using a different rubric to grade them until recently and that they’d been going over to your place, it would simply look bad for both of you. You’d risk getting sanctioned, possibly even losing your job if things were taken in the wrong way, and they could repeat the semester or even have their work in your class be null and having to take a new course entirely, if not even being kicked out.

There’s a minute of silence between the two of you, the air is thick and you wonder if you should have been softer in your delivery as you watch them process your words.

It takes them a while, you decide to give them the time because you have indeed noticed how they’d seem to grow ever so attached to you and they might take this a bit too personally, but you’re soon starting to grow increasingly uncomfortable as the silence continues.

You’re about to say something again, try to soften the blow with some generic encouragement about how they’ll do well regardless of you being their tutor or not, when you hear them chuckle softly under their breath.

You’re taken aback, your eyes widen in surprise and you unconsciously lean back into your chair, but that seems to have further encouraged their laughter as soon they’re covering their face with the back of their hand as they double over in laughter.

It’s strange but you decide to give them a few seconds to regain their composure, maybe this was a nervous habit? You’d heard of people who’d laugh when anxious, but you’d never seen something so theatrical.

They slowly sit back up, wiping tears from their eyes as a few chuckles escape their smiling lips. They haven’t fully calmed down but seem to be making an effort to continue the conversation nonetheless.

“Ah, professor,” your last name tumbles from their lips in a joyous manner but their eyes look icy as they stare at you, their voice feels more aggressive even if the words came out from a smile, “don’t be so ridiculous, I think things are working pretty well as they are, I have no desire to change our… relationship.”

You’re taken by surprise, their word choice feels odd and purposeful, but you insist regardless.

“There is no relationship between us,” you state, “I am your professor, do you understand? That means that if I say your tutoring is over, it’s over; I have been going easy on you and helping you out but do not misinterpret my intentions, you are my student and that’s where our acquaintanceship ends. If you think you’ll continue needing help, I’m certain our TA will be more than glad to step up and help you out.”

They smile as they take their phone out of their pocket and your stomach drops for a second, wondering what on earth they could have there. They slide it towards you after unlocking it, they’re carefree in their handling of the device and your nerves start to rise, a gut wrenching feeling settles in your stomach, you don’t really understand what you’re seeing at first but once you do you feel your blood run cold.

You don’t even realize they’ve walked behind your chair, too focused on the picture of your naked body cuddling up to their equally nude form. They’re smiling, tenderly caressing your bare shoulders, embracing your body in such a loving manner it looked like you were lovers. When… When did they take this?

Your voice is shaking but they don’t answer you, instead opting to crouch beside you and show you the hundreds of incriminating pictures themselves.

They start telling you a story based on the pictures, the one they seemed to be telling you even if you knew that everything they depicted was fake, about a promiscuous professor that seduced their student, coaxed them into a relationship and took advantage of their position to influence the student into falling in love with them.

You want to tell them it won’t work, threaten to call the dean or the campus police, but they quickly clear out any confusion; “Would anyone believe a student would seduce a teacher and that it’s not the other way around?”

You know exactly what they mean; you’re the professor, you hold the authority. You had never been able to put a stop to it because you had no idea what they were doing but that didn’t matter, it was your word against theirs and they had “evidence”.

They seem proud of themselves too, telling you about all the ways they set up the rooms and photos to make sure they looked as real as possible. They’d taken their clothes and belongings over to your place in secret, made sure to apply makeup in the right places with the correct lighting, it seriously felt like an art they’d perfected.

You ask them what they could possibly want, clearly it couldn’t be only your tutoring if they were going this far. They smile and tell you they simply want a relationship with you, one that goes beyond a professor and a student; from that day onwards they wanted to be your lover.

You want to say no, but they remind you of the position you’re in; “You know, I’ve got these backed up in a bunch of places, it’d be a shame if one leaked, right, professor?”

You feel numb as they lock the door of your office and guide you on top of your desk, you barely even register them going down on you - stripping you naked and giving you oral. From that day onward, you were a prisoner to your own student.

Everyday, they’d act like any other person taking your classes, going to college, making friends, as if when your work day ended they didn’t torment you under the guise of love. Making themselves into your lover without your consent, as if you weren’t their professor, as if they weren’t your student. They celebrate your birthday and make you celebrate theirs, you go on dates outside of town so as to not be caught, there are times you almost forget the perverse nature of your relationship - but it always comes back to haunt you. They always come back to haunt you.

They make sure not to show any of the images to anyone for as long as they’re going to the college. They need to keep an eye on you, make sure your looks and personality don’t charm any other student - they’d hate to get rid of their classmates due to your unknowing seduction. They’re so good at acting like they weren’t bending you over your kitchen counter the minute they followed you home, you’d almost believe they were only your innocent, well meaning student if they didn’t send you videos of you two fucking as extra-curriculum activities.

They also take your courses religiously to make sure to always be in contact with you; you could never escape them, they’ll follow you home and come inside even if you try to shut the door behind you. Whenever you tried changing the lock they'd find a way to break in anyway, on campus they’d sneakily follow you everywhere and harass you. Those who notice, the few that do, think of it as cute, an innocent puppy crush that would fade by next semester.

It’s not until they gets their diploma three years later that they releases a drive full of the videos and pictures, making sure to add dates and location, everything to prove you were fucking a student. You were a whore of a professor seducing their students.

You’re fired immediately and it’s not long until your friends and family cut contact with you for seducing a poor college student and using your power over them as leverage. Nobody wants to hire you, they’d make sure to document every single dirty detail of your relationship so as to ruin your reputation until you’d be forced to turn to the only person who didn’t turn their back on you.

You can only walk into their open arms as they suggest finally moving in together, possibly getting married, and maybe even having a couple of children now that they have graduated and received their degree.

But even through it all, they still have the audacity to call you their beloved “professor”.

Characters: Lisa (GI), Scaramouche (GI), Al-Haitham (GI), Kaeya (GI), Ayato (GI), Jing Yuan (HSR), Luocha (HSR), Aventurine (HSR), Vyn (TOT), Rafayel (L&DS), Ibara (ENSTARS), Eichi (ENSTARS), Yuzuru (ENSTARS), Cater (TWST), Rook (TWST), Kylar (DOL), Whitney (DOL), literally anyone you want really (TT)

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siddyyyyyyyy · 7 months ago

Text

Red Knight in Shining Armour (2)

Red Hood x Reader

wc: 6.1 K summary: You ask Red Hood for help from a creep and he does so. However, a funny coincidence happens; part one warnings: language, standard Gotham violence, kidnapping a/n: I originally wanted to split this into two parts, but then got lazy and just decided to keep it at that. (I also got a bit carried away)... Have fun!

You slept safely in your bed with the thoughts of Red Hood always protecting you. It may seem delusional, but you couldn‘t care less. Not everyone gets to be saved by a vigilante on a random tuesday night. And he personally drove you back home, it really makes you wonder if he does that with every civilian that needs help. Surely, he does or else it would have been all over the news by now, right?

So, going to work the next day was rather exciting. Your best friend and coworker, Evelyn, will most likely be more excited than you when she gets an earful about it. And as soon as you enter the backdoor, you start rambling off to her and she is indeed more ecstatic than you. You both start to fangirl, mostly repeating the whole situation to her as she squeals and jumps lightly on her feet, listening to your every word.

Of course that moment of excitment didn‘t last long as you had to take care of costumers, but you already told the story four times by now and every time with more details.

You really hope Red Hood will come by later for a sweet treat, having promised him that after all. However, the bakery remains to fill the regulars and other random people, the day growing more frustrating even though the usual people come in and it stays rather full.

An elder man notices you sigh out while leaning against the counter with your elbows, the man being one of the regulars.

»What‘s wrong, dear? You have been sighing all day, is there something wrong with the orders?«

There is nothing wrong with the orders at all, you just feel very sluggish now that you don‘t see your favourite red guy anymore. Since when he became your favourite? Since the moment he wrapped his arm around your shoulders… you could still feel the distinct weight of his arm, how he radiated an oddly amount of warmth against you, and how he kept you at distance from the creep. Since the moment he squeezed your shoulder in comfort.

You truly became insane over him. Just a little.

The elderly man waits for your answer, eventually receiving a simple shake of your head. There could be nothing you could say to him that he would belive you.

»Just a slow day, that‘s all. Nothing you need to worry about, sir.«

He huffs out lightly, finally getting off his chair and walks up to the counter.

»It‘s ‚Charles‘ for you. You‘ll get an extra tip today for being so pouty. Your baked stuff is amazing, don‘t beat yourself up about it.«

He lays the money for his order and a ten dollar extra bill on top of it, making you rethink of acting pouty every day now.

»Thanks, si- Charles. Have a nice day.«

You smile gratefully at him and take the money into the register, seeing him smiling back at your brighter face before he exits the shop.

----

Unfortunately for you, Red Hood didn‘t come along in the following days and your bus didn‘t drive away from you anymore. It could be really useful now, but it seems like the bus driver really despises you. Obviously it‘s good you don‘t need to walk home anymore and can safely drive by the bus, but you also miss getting saved.

A week went by after the miracolous saving, and you‘re still hanging on by the last thread of hope that he will eventually come by. But no, no signs of him all around and it‘s closing shift anyway. Your best friend left a while ago and you are always in charge of closing the bakery, doing the same tonight as every other night.

A big crash startles you, making you jump out of your skin, and before you can realise what‘s happening, you can only make out two large people fighting violently on the floor of the bakery. You quickly run into the kitchen to hide, feeling the sudden rush of adrenaline come over you and how unsteady your breathing becomes. You cower in a far corner, holding a big kitchen knife in hand and trembling in your curled up position.

You can hear loud thuds and some sickening cracks of something getting broken, them most likely moving around as you hear glass shatters move around the wooden floor. At every grunt and scream you flinch, flinching even harder once you hear a gun go off. Wait, someone‘s shooting? In your bakery? Your heartbeat quickens even more to the point of a near damn heart attack state, but you can‘t seem to move out of your spot. After some more triggers being put off, the fight seems to come to an end. But it seems the silence is even more terrifying.

After what seemed like hours, some police siren‘s went off and are on their way to your location. With uncertain and shaky steps, you dare to peek outside of the kitchen door and try to make out what happened. Looking though the kitchen counter seems to be difficult, and you hesitantly make your way to the counter to examine the scene some more.

Watching, you notice a big brooding shadow with white slits stand at the entrance… or what used to be an entrance, before someone decided to have a fight in your bakery. The speculations didn‘t last long as you notice another brooding figure in the very dimly lit room. You quickly recognize it as no other than Red Hood, the same man that saved you just a week ago. This is the perfect time to actually give him a treat, the worries of the current situation thrown away.

Quickly grabbing a big chocolate cookie from the leftovers, you don‘t hesitate to skip to the red helmet wearing mass of muscle, with a wide smile. With your adrenaline still being skyrocketed, it doesn‘t make this easy at all though. Your hands and legs are trembling, and you are still having trouble processing what actually happened in here.

Tapping the shoulder of Red Hood, you keep hold of the cookie in your free hand. He immediately turns his head to you and he visibly relaxes, but tenses again. Bruce is going to cut his head off later, for being unaware of civilians and possibly harming them.

»Y-your sweet treat for saving me last week.« You want to slap yourself with how your voice trembles and the fact that you just stuttered in front of him. But he doesn‘t seem to acknowledge it and seems to scan you and the cookie.

Batman also has his attention on you and the other vigilante hopes the words you just said made Bruce less angry towards him. You are clearly unaware of the tension between the two and just seem to be happy by just giving your hero of the night a cookie as a small thanks. Red takes the cookie from you, having to save it for later since he can't eat with his helmet on. He simply takes it and looks back at you with a subtle nod.

»Thanks, but you didn't need to.«

You wave it off, glad he didn't seem to notice your trembling hands and slightly dishevelled look. Well, he did not acknowledge it, but Batman will surely take care of that. Ambulances are on their way already and he is sure he will grow sick from the way you look so dreamy at his son.

»Are you hurt? We'll get you some help, just lay the knife down.«

Oh, the knife is something you've totally forgotten and now your trembling hands seem even more obvious. You sheepishly lay the knife away onto the counter and follow them outside, Red Hood guiding you to a nearby ambluance to let the doctors treat you. Once there, they can only patch up the light scratches you got from the few glass splitters that flew your way from the big window and glass door. You still have no idea how they could possibly fly through that thick glass, having paid quite some money for it.

Finally, they finished with the few scratches at your side and you are left alone with a warm cup of tea to soothe your nerves and keep you warm; a silver blanket around your shoulders to protect you from the biting february cold. You have the perfect opportunity to look over the scene. Police have already sealed your bakery off with yellow tapes, now looking around to put small cards with numbers on potential evidence. From this view, you can see the few blood pools on the wooden floor, knowing it will be a pain to clean that off. Surely your clients can understand and tolerate a small haitus over a few days, if not weeks, to clean everything and renovate some things.

Sighing out, you sip on your tea and already make mental notes on what to buy and work on in your bakery. Luckily your kitchen stayed unharmed.

»How you holding up? Enjoying your tea?«

You almost jump out of your skin again at the voice that came beside you, not having noticed him approach at all. Is this why they call him Nightwing? Getting out of your small surprise, you nod and just rest the tea cup in your hands.

»Good, tea is good too.« You smile back politely, the man beside you currently leaning against the door of the ambulance slightly.

»Yeah? Is this your bakery? We didn't mean to destroy your windows and floors, we can take care of that since it's the least we could do.«

Damn his charming smile and smooth voice. You simply nod in response but your mind drifts off. What is he doing here? Shouldn't he be in Blüdhaven, fighting crime instead of here? You don't follow the news that much, but you do know that he isn't normally here. Not in a situation like this anyway. You snap out once he speaks up again.

He eventually finds out that this bakery is indeed yours and you were about to close it before these two insane maniacs accidently flew right through the big window and continued their fight there. He also finds out about how Red saved you last week and got you home safely. Somehow you managed to even ramble off to Nightwing about it. And he seems invested in your story, almost fangirling with you but keeps his laid back and smug demeanor for most of the time.

The conversation gets interrupted as Red Hood grabs Nightwing by his collar, dragging him finally away from you and also almost starting a fight with him because of that.

»Dude, this is destiny! You can't tell me this is a very strange and funny coincidence; you saved her last week and now crashed into her bakery? That's... that's-«

»Shut up, dick! We don't even know each other.« Jason snaps back annoyed, really not wanting to talk about something cheesy like this, even when he privately enjoys reading romance novels, similar to this.

»Oh, come on, she seems nice and genuinely wants to get to know you! Now's your chance, Jay.«

»Fuck off!« Jason almost growls, earning a look from Bruce who is currently approaching them. It seems like the GCPD caught the criminal and are currently driving him to his new cell, being done for tonight, if nothing other happens after this.

You attempt to peek towards their way, but you don't see them anywhere anymore, having disappear into the night again. The ambulance drives you home that night, getting told to rest for tonight and don't worry about anything else. But you do worry about something. Are they really going to replace your window and half-broken door?

----

The next day felt a little less pleasent, the wind being stronger than yesterday. You make your way to the bakery and go into the front door this time, wanting to see how bad the damage really is. The entire front window is gone, the glass splitters laying on the floor inside and outside, and your door seems to jammed and half crushed. You don't even want to know how they managed to do this.

Not even a minute later, a small group of men approach you and look kind of shady. One of them stands now in front of you and holds out an envelope, it being almost as thick as a small loaf of bread.

»Miss, we are here to repair your window and door.«

He starts, expecting you to take the envelope full of money and just trust him with the repair. Where did they get so much money from?You study them, the small group of men standing behind him and also watching you, some assessing the damaged shop. They are all taller than you, dressed in a suspicious looking clothes, but they seem to have a good motive.

»And who are you?«

»I am Bill-« He gets slapped by the back of his head, getting whispered some words. His more chirp tone gets interrupted and clears his throat before speaking up.

»We were sent from Red Hood to take care of the damage.«

He said with a more monotone and low voice, glancing to the non-existent window. You slowly take the envelope from him and nod, remembering the words from Nightwing last night again and feel relieved about it.

They get to work once you agree, noticing the small truck near by as five of them walk over and now carry the new glass of window to your shop, the other five men cleaning the mess up, and making sure the window is ready to get installed. You almost get a heart attack as you watch them carry the new window, keeping your eyes on them while they work. In the meantime, you make sure to stash the large stack of money somewhere safe, guessing it's probably more money than needed, but you don't complain.

After probably two hours of watching them work, the men seem to be finished and now clean the big window, also making sure to clean the blood soaked floor, and not knock anything over. You've counted ten of them, meaning to give them some sweets in return.

As soon as they all group up again and get ready to leave, you approach them quickly with two bigger bags in hands. One has a good amount of cookies, the other has two boxes full of éclair with different fillings. They hold back their excitement and take the bags, driving back to their unofficial base and share the sweets with the rest. Mostly giving it to the kids since they are also curious on what they brought back.

Finally, the bakery seems to return to its old self. The usual costumers arrive and buy stuff, sharing their empathy with you and also leaving you some extra tips for the repairs. If you knew this could get this much money, you would have done this way earlier. Somehow.

The following days, the men of Red Hood appear in your bakery more often. At least five of them arrive each day and buy some sweets from you, mostly getting some éclair and brownies. You don't complain, actually finding it quite cute how they buy some of your baked goods and pay you a good amount of money for it too, wondering if they buy it for themselves or even for the Red Hood himself.

Red Hood, however, hates how obsessed they seem with your sweets. It's gotten to a point where there is always either a full or half-eaten cookie laying around somewhere. The children shouldn't eat so much sugar anyway, so he tries to control the amount of stuff they buy from your shop.

Once the six men arrive back from their small shopping trip, they get greetet by a grumpy Boss. He seems to be grumbling something to himself, several curses slipping out of him while he cleans his gun on the couch. But Bill does figure out some words, something about a bakery and... is he fussing about the baked goods? Does he want more or is he trying to figure out on how to meet you again? Whatever it is, he already has a plan. If boss seems upset, he is the first to make him feel better and solve any problems he may have.

----

You are currently closing the back door after taking care of the place, having cleaned it as usual and prepared the rest for the following day. It's been probably about two weeks since you have these new, polite, but also strange regulars. They come in every day around afternoon, order about two bags full of baked goods and leave the place with small smiles. Today wasn't any different, they even left a big tip again and muttered small thanks as the other day.

Turning around, you didn't notice to see a small girl standing before you, asking for help as she claims to be lost. Of course you help her, she looks so tiny and cute as her eyes water up and seems to be close to howliing her eyes out. You kneel down to be at her level, getting something cold hit against the back of your neck. You pass out. That is the last thing you could remember, being unconscious.

Red Hood doesn't know what's worse. The fact that his men kidnapped you or that Bill used his niece for bait to get you. Either way, he has no idea what he should do now. You are laying unconsciously in the arms of the so-called kidnapper, Bill, who organised all of this. His explanation was simple: 'But Boss, you looked sad and talked about her.' No, the fuck he didn't.

But before he could scold him out and land bullets in each of their heads, you stirr in his arms. Air seems to freeze and everyone watches your next move. Red tenses and is also relieved at the same time, glad they didn't knock you out too hard. Once you can blink your eyes open, you recognise the man holding you almost immediately. Still, due to not knowing where you are or how you got here, you swing at him and fall to the ground. You yelp and grab for your pepper spray in your pocket, trying to aim it to him but realise too late that the safety click is still on.

»Lady, calm down! We brought you to Boss- Red Hood, sorry!« Bill exclaims and holds his hands up, as do the other four men who stand by him. Your heart somehow calms down, but only a fraction until you look to the actual Red Hood standing by the other side.

»What?« You huff out quietly, still aiming the bottle of pepper spray towards your supposed kidnapper.

Red only groans, the sound coming off strangled through his helmet and the distortion mic he most likely wears. »Idiots. Out.« He gruffs out, them actually listening and hurrying out of the room.

Now, this is awkward. This feels like a bad romcom-soap your grandma would watch and try to convince you of how romantic it is. You slowly put your pepper spray back into your pocket and stand off the floor. At least he isn't towering over you now, but the height difference still feels humbling to some extend.

You clear your throat and try to figure out what to say. It seems like he is doing the same, staring at you while scrambling for anything to talk about.

»Do you... need a ride home? It's almost one in the morning, so...«

He eventually suggests and you wish you could at least read his body language, but he stays as still as a stick. But the request is appreciated and you nod, actually happy to be driven home by him again. He grabs an extra helmet for you and you both make your way outside, walking the few steps to his bike.

It's mostly quiet, and you don't really know what to say yourself, just letting him help you get on and ensure that you sit safely behind him. You wrap your arms around his torso, making sure to keep them higher up, instead of listening to your intrusive thoughts and letting them slip lower. You can't even wrap them fully around him, being able to touch your fingertips together at his chest, but not more. He starts driving in a shocking speed, making you clutch onto him tighter.

You squint your eyes together under the helmet, just hoping he isn't driving too fast and possibly going over the speed limit. But even if he was, he most certainly didn't care and you start to think he just wants to bring you home as fast as possible.

And indeed, it didn't take long for you to get home, getting off the bike with some help again. His bigger hands help you take off the helmet you wear, getting a bit sheepish and secretly flustered at how gentle he is.

»Listen, I'm really sorry for this. I don't know how they got the idea of... well, kidnapping you. I'm really sorry.«

He holds your helmet in his hands as he apologises and seems genuine. Like, genuinely sorry and guilty for this.

»No, it's fine. At least I got a free ride home.« It seems he didn't expect you to be so forgiving about it and take it lightly. Were you kidnapped often that you are reacting this way? He nods slowly, straightening up on his bike.

»Still... have a good night, then.«

He drives off afterwards, having watched you walk inside your apartment complex, just to make sure you actually went home safe. ----

The next few days were actually quiet for once. The usual buff men of his didn't come in for a while until, like three days later and bought a few cupcakes and cookies this time. It's getting warmer now finally, it being march now and it starts to rain less. Even though you live in Gotham, the weather seems to work out somehow. Especially today, the sun was out for maximum ten minutes and your day got better a whole lot. After dealing with the handful of costumers that come in everyday, you can prepare the bakery to close down. Once it's done, you close the door but halt in your steps as you turn around.

Red. A red motorcycle and the red man leaning against it with his arms crossed.

»What are you doing here? Kidnapping me again?«

You step closer to him and he shakes his head lightly, already handing you over an extra helmet. »No, trying to do the opposite. You seem to have a problem with getting home safe.«

You huff out amused at his answer, secretly flustered and appreciating that he will drive you home again.

»Is this going to be a routine? Because I do hope it will.«

You question while putting on your helmet, keeping your eyes on him. He seems to consider it for a moment, in reality not wanting to come off as a creep or stalker.

»I guess so, then. Seems like you would only appreciate it.«

He shrugs and helps you getting on the back of his bike once more, making sure your arms are tight around him before he drives off. This time he drives slower and probably more cautiously. Either way, you keep your arms tight around him. Getting to the point of arriving home is the saddest part though. You step from the seat and feel the need to return the favour. Standing before him, he also doesn't leave just yet, even when he just put your helmet away.

»Same time tomorrow?« You finally manage to ask, smiling sheepishly at him. He nods almost too quickly and straightens his back lightly.

»Always.«

And on that night, you weren't sure what you two were. Of course, he is your personal uber driver now, but that doesn't stop you from becoming even more crazy over him.

----

It had been about three weeks since he drove you home himself, and he is still doing it. The brief drive back made you two become closer. Well... you are mostly talking about your day and yourself during the ride while he listens and nods from time to time.

This time though, he doesn't wait for you as usual. Indeed, you are getting worried and hope you didn't overshare the other day and scared him off that way. Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but you are really unsure now. Should you go to your bus station or wait until he arrives? If you wait and he doesn't appear, you will miss your bus and have to walk. At least there isn't any ice around anymore, it being the middle of march. But you also have some hope that he will actually arrive and you just need to wait a little longer... a little longer, and... just a little longer?

An hour came by and you missed your bus already. It probably would have been better if you just went to your bus station.

A loud sound of an engine rips you out of your thoughts and you look towards the sound, instantly recognising the bike. He stops just right before you, making you flinch at how dangerously close he is.

»I'm late, I know - something came up, just hop on...«

He gestures behind his back and you hesitate briefly before taking a seat behind him. Red hastily hands you over your helmet and waits, sighing out. He sounds exhausted and seems unlike himself. Whatever happened, you are very curious and on the verge of asking. You would have, if he wouldn't have started driving in high speed. The bike lets out an ear-blaring sound and a high screetch against the asphalt, making you hold on tighter around him. You don't hear it, but Red grunts lightly at your touch, gritting his teeth under his helmet.

He parks clumsly near your door and stalls the bike, groaning as he tries to keep himself from wincing at his pain by his side.

»What happened?« You get off the bike and stand by his side, taking off your helmet while he tilts his head away from you. He shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand at you, struggling to puts his engine on again.

»C'mon, you arrived late, you seem to be in a hurry and you breath unevenly. Something's up.«

You try to be more demanding and he stops breathing for a moment at your observation. After what seems like an eternity he caves in.

»You know how to stitch people up?«

Standing in the living room in front of your couch, on which you sit on, you stitch up his gash across his side carefully. You explained to him shortly that your father was a medic in the past and thaught you a thing or two about that stuff. You live in Gotham, for God's sake.

He stays surprisingly still during the treatment, not uttering a word or wince during the entire procedure. That's when you start to get worried.

Finally, after several minutes of dead silence, you lean away and now bandage his cut up. »You had a full on gash on your side and still decided to drive me home? Are you completely insane?«

Now the scolding starts. He had hoped you would just patch him up and let him go, but it seems like you make him stay and listen to your lecture. He stays standing in front of you, silently observing you while you scold him out and stand right before him. Your friendship had reached the level of where you can easily joke around with each other and tease, but also express concern without coming off as weird or creepy.

»You could have just texted me and tell me you wouldn't pick me up, you know? I could take the bus instead.«

He shakes his head. Of course he does.

»Wanted to make sure you are safe.«

»No, absoulutely not. Don't put me over your health, that's stupid and dangerous.«

You voice firmly but he stays calm. You have every right to be upset and angry about his antics, but he really just wanted to make sure you are safe and sound.

"Now, eat the cookie and crash here. No arguing.«

He blinks, perplex about your final words. To be honest, he didn't pay attention to your lecture until now. The cookie in his hand is new too, not having felt it there before. The red vigilante listens to you and sits down on your couch.

You watch him, eventually leaving the living room to your own room, and get ready to sleep.

You don't see him the next morning, but he did text you just around four AM.

»Thanks for patching me up, doc. Will come by more often, probably.«

----

»So, have you asked her out yet? Even gotten her number, or nah? Do you even know her name by now, or should I ask her? Are you even listening to me?«

Dick asks through the comms, making a big deal out of it. It's only a matter of time when he notices that Jason turned his earpiece off and starts annoying him all over. This night's patrol is slower than usual; Nightwing gaining the chance to annoy and interrogate his little brother.

»Well... her cupcakes are good.« That smug bastard mumbles into the comms once he sees they are turned on again by Jason's side, the sly smirk evident, even through an earpiece.

»What? Please don't tell me you visited her fucking bakery, you-«

He gets interrupted by his brother, chuckling through the earpiece like the infuriating jerk that he is.

»She knows my name by now. Because I am a regular.« Dick taunts, hoping to get a reaction out of him and also know more about the situation he has going on with you.

»Yeah? Well, she knows the names of my men and I drive her home every night after her shift. You've got nothing on me.«

For the first time, Dick is actually positively surprised about what his brother said. If this is true, then why aren't you guys together yet?

»And...?« He presses on, hoping to hear more news about the new soon-to-be-girlfriend, not wanting for him to say that there is nothing else to discuss about just yet.

»What 'and'? There's nothing else.«

Dick groans heavily, having to lean his head back in frustration and stop his observation over the city. »You can't possibly tell me you haven't made a move yet. Seriously, are you that shy or are you genuinely this stupid?«

Jason rolls his eyes and continues to cruise through the busy streets, skipping red lights while doing so. »Don't tell me what to do, you're the one who fumbled the most.«

Dick is silent after that, deciding to continue patrolling and focusing instead of prying into his brother's love life. But not without some more 'friendly' bickering between the two. ----

A month later and Red Hood has been over in your place more often, mostly because of his injuries but also because of you. He wants to actually spend more time together and for you to get to know him. Currently, he is sitting leaned back on your couch, you sitting beside him while sorting through your med kit after treating his light wounds.

Your friendship has grown to that point, where you can lean against the other without much trouble and you already took a nap against his shoulder once after patching him up.

This night seems a little different though. Mostly for Red because he is determined to chance something in your friendship. Once you place the med kit back on your coffee table, you lean against his side and sigh out. He carefully wraps his arm around you shulder to keep you close, but also making sure to give you some space if you don't want to stay close.

»Tired?« He still hasn't taken his helmet off once during your time together, hiding his identity like no other. But you do know his first name, he has given you that after you'd asked rather sheepishly a while ago.

»Not really, just... a little.«

He nods back in response and feels his heart rate pick up as his thoughts wander off. He really does want for you to know him. To really know him, not just his name. After a longer moment of comfortable silence, he clears his throat lightly and shifts beside you.

»I want you to know me.« He really doesn't know how else to start this and be more vulnerable around you. You, however, don't react shocked or with any negative reaction, just listening and staying leaned against him with his arm gently around you. He takes it as a sign to continue.

»I'm... I'm going to take my helmet off, so... just don't freak out or anything.«

Red scoffs lightly to himself and reaches for his helmet with his free hand, slowly taking it off while he feels his heart pound in his ears. You simply watch, being nervous yourself for no reason. No, you are happy. Ecstatic even, and it gives you an absurd amount of feelings in your chest that you can't comprehend.

His face his bare now, hair falling lightly into his face. Jason finally looks to you and shifts on the couch to face you better. He looks way younger than in your head but even more so handsome and beautiful. His eyes search yours, any sign of rejectment or disgust but he sees none. Indeed, he can only see the amount of adoration and affection in your gaze.

»I really want to you know me and for us to actually be more than... this simple arrangement we have going on. You are, I mean... you make me happy and you're literally, hands down, the most friendly and understanding person I've ever met. It's probably a lot for you, but I genuinely want more and for-«

You really want to hear him out and hear what else he has to say, but your emotions take over. You cut his words off with a kiss, and not just some kiss. A meaningful, and passionate kiss that should make him know how much you adore him and love him. You put all your feelings into it that even he is overwhelmed with how gentle you are. As if he could break of crumble at any moment.

Both hands holding his face, he leans closer into you and kisses you back with just as much love. Neither of you know who broke the kiss first, but you both gasp for air. He leans back again and stares back at you, cheeks flushed and heart calming down slightly.

You both feel flustered now, letting go of him and stay seated beside him.

»I was kinda impatient, sorry...«

Finally he chuckles, sending you both into a fit of giggles and he hugs you tightly, almost crushing you with how strong he is. The night ended up with you both talking even more, sharing some fleeting kisses into the early morning before you have to go to work and he needs to leave to his own business. ----

Your relationship progressed in the following months, both being super cheesy with the other in private but both of you won't admit it to anyone else.

That's when the door rings to your apartment, not expecting anyone in particular as you bake cookies with Jason in your kitchen. He goes to the door to answer it, his cheek having some flour on it while his usual black shirt also has flour spots. Not that he cares.

He opens the door and there stands his oh, so lovely brother. His eye twitches.

»Hey Jaybird, I see you're having fun, but I-«

The door closes abruptly in Dick's face and there's only some muffled words to be heard from behind it, Jason ignoring those and walking back to you.

»Who was it?«

»Dickface.«

He grumbles, settling behind you to hug you and rest his chin on your shoulder. You want to scold him for treating his brother that way but you lose your words as soon as he nuzzles into your neck. That day went by great without any further interruptions from annoying dickfaces, spending the time with you in peace after turning his phone off as well.

Jason's won't ever let anything interrupt you both.

a/n: literally wrote this whole thing in one go, I was really determined to get this off my list. I really hoope it didn't come off as too rushed 😭😭 I hope you enjoyed it!

←MASTERLIST

#fanfic #x reader #jason todd #batfamily #jason todd x reader #batfam #dick grayson #nightwing #red hood #red hood x reader #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #dc batman #friends to lovers #i think #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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jaredpadonlyyyy · 2 months ago

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𝙂𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝘼𝙆𝙀𝘿 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙈𝙊𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙒𝙀𝙀𝘿

• 𝙉𝙊 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏

• 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙉𝙄 𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆 𝙔𝙊𝙐

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙂𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙃𝙄𝙂𝙃, 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘽𝙀𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙉𝘼𝙆𝙀𝘿

You and JJ were hanging out at the chateau, it was one of those days were you wanted to leave home because your dad was drunk and you knew what was coming, you couldn’t handle seeing how he would treat your mother, and how after she would get so drugged out, that he would continue onto your little brother, but you would always take his place. So before it could happen, you packed a bag for him and yourself and took him to your grandparents house and left him there with them. Told him that you will be back in a few days as he still didn’t understand what was going on. Since he was four years old still.

John B was at work, so the chateau was alone at the moment. John B always lets you stay and his dad had even given you your own room from when you wanted to escape your home. Currently you and JJ were passing a joint between the two of you both of your with your legs up on the walls as you laid on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as the light of the day shines inside the room. “You okay?” JJ asked after a while. Since you didn’t talk at all since you had gotten to the chateau. You sigh as your eyes got watery and you looked over at the blonde boy you’ve been in love with since the fourth grade, it was when you met him

You shook your head but you looked away trying to hold back your tears. “Honestly, I’ll never be okay.” You told him. JJ always understood her home situation as he’s gone through it with his own father as well. So they both had found comfort in each other. It was either between smoking weed and have sex, or just have sex or just smoke weed. You knew he didn’t like you that way, but as long as you felt what it’s like to be loved by him, touched by him, you didn’t mind. Love wasn’t in your mind as all you were worried about, was what were you and your baby brother were going to eat that day. The money that your father makes, always goes onto drugs and a lot of alcohol. You were in charge of paying the rent on time, the bills weren’t sometimes paid because it was not enough money. So you would shower at either the chateau or at your grandparents house or at Kie’s

“Yeah, I get it.” He said as you both looked at each other. He passed you the joint as you sat up and you took off your cropped top letting your breast come out. “What are you doing?” JJ asked you as you took a hit of the joint. His blue eyes falling onto your pink hard nipples. “Let’s get naked.” You told him as you stood up on the bed and wiggled out of your sleeping shorts, leaving you completely naked in front of JJ.

You’ve both have seen each other naked. Since it wasn’t the first time having sex with each other. JJ’s eyes wonder lower to your pussy and he felt himself twitching inside his swim trunks. Since you worked out, you had the perfect tight little body, fit, small. “Come on, it feels good being naked.” You told him as you sat back down on the bed, bringing your legs up to your chest as you passed him back the joint.

He stood up taking off his shirt along with his swim trunks and his boxer shorts. Your eyes falling onto his soft dick. Even it being soft, it looked long and you loved it. Both of you laid back down on the bed in the same position you were initially and passed a joint after another. By the time you were both done. You were both giggling as JJ had said something funny.

Both of you stayed quiet as you both enjoy the peaceful moment together, enjoying your high you felt happy at the moment, it was always your favorite place to be with JJ, in moments you needed him, he was always there to console you in any way you want.

Whether it was just sex, or hanging out. He was just always there. No one but him understood you.

“You know what we should do?” You said as you turn your body towards JJ’s. “Have sex?” He said as you giggled. “No! I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but that’s not the point. The point is, that when we turn 30 and we haven’t gotten married, we should just marry each other and have like 20 kids.” She said making JJ smile as she said that. “20 kids?” He asked her as he turned his body towards hers as well. “Yeah, I mean, why not.” She shrugged as his hands reached over and placed his hand on her hip, giving it a light squeeze. “I mean, I’m down, but 20 kids?” He said.

“Okay, fine, 30.” She said making the blonde boy laugh, making her giggle.

“You want to know something?” JJ asked her as she calmed down and looked at him. “What’s that?” You asked him. His ocean blue eyes on yours as he softly smiled. “I love you.” He said making you smile fade as he said that. It didn’t sound like the I love you’s he will tell you all the time. That one sounded different.

“W-What?” You nervously laughed as he moved his naked body closer to yours. “I’ve been in love with you, since. I don’t know. A long time.” He said to you. “JJ.” You said his name softly as he inched closer to you. “If you don’t feel the same. It’s okay.” He said.

But as you were about to answer, the door to the room opened. “Hey— oh god!!” John B yelled as his eyes widen. “John B!!” You quickly grabbed your pillow covering your naked body from his view. JJ just laughed at how red your face has gotten from being caught. “Don’t you know how to knock!” You yelled. “Sorry!” John B yelled from the other side of the door. “Next time fucking knock!” You yell at him.

“We’re not done talking.” You told JJ as you stood up and got dressed, really hoping there was some kind of news about the gold they have been looking for.

This was supposed to be a smut! But I got lazy in doing it, and I don’t want to write smut all the damn time anymore. It feels like I’m a sex addict of something lmao. Anyways ENJOY! Next one will be a smut! ✌🏻🙂💋🫶🏻🤍🤍🤍

PS, PS!

If you see she and you ignored it! I was used to writing she that I sometimes do it!

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anarchistmemecollective · 5 months ago

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From the Bristol, UK, IWW Chapter:

“Uprisings in Bristol UK have been continuing since Sunday against the new Police and Crime Bill which would restrict peoples right to peacefully protest and would give 10 yeah prison sentences for people causing damage to statues (the usual sentence for rape in the UK is only 5 years).

The bill also includes many restrictions on traveler communities in the UK who throughout the covid lockdown have faced violence and illegal evictions. This Bill would institutionalise this violence and illegalise the lifestyle of a marginalised and regularly persecuted minority group.

This comes in a time when people are still mourning the death of Sarah Everard who was attacked and murdered by an off duty Met police officer while walking home. Women held vigils around the country for Sarah and some of these were broken up by the police and attendees arrested (by male police colleagues of the officer charged with the murder).

Here in Bristol the Black Lives Matter movement is also very strong and many people feel that the Police and Crime Bill is a response to the people of Bristol pulling down of a statue to Edward Colston, a slave trader who funded many of the cities major institutions.

Locally these struggles have intersected in the #KillTheBill movement and peaceful protests have repeatedly been attacked by the police, causing a revolt on Sunday where Bristolians lay siege to the police station and set several cop vehicles on fire.

Last night, an explicitly peaceful protest was again attacked by police and a number of people arrested and beaten with shield and batons, charged with horses and dogs. Travelers had come to hold space in a public park where they could make their voices heard but they were attacked in the night by the cops, arrested, beaten and their dwellings and property destroyed without consideration that some had nowhere else to go. Several protestors were hospitalised and many more suffered minor injuries.

When young people lay down in the streets shouting that it was a 'peaceful demonstration' the cops charged in, again beating people and arresting anyone who wasn't able to flee. This took place in the middle of a residential area where many of these folks actually live.

For several nights the streets of Bristol have become a physical and metaphorical battleground that may determine the rights and freedoms for all people living in the UK.

Kill The Bill has no official organisers and actions have been mostly autonomous and spontaneous, this includes a march of 5,000 people in support of the protests on Sunday.

Members of Bristol IWW have continually done what we can to support these protests, including providing first aid for protestors who have been injured by the police. While we know some on the British left may question why we have offered our support to this autonomous street movement rather than appealing to the parliamentary system and its antiquated processes. Some even question why we would take part in events that have seen the destruction of police equipotent and self defense used against the cops. We be believe our position to be clear and consistent as members of a revolutionary working class union.

"There can be no peace so long as hunger and want are found among millions of the working people and the few, who make up the employing class, have all the good things of life.

Between these two classes a struggle must go on until the workers of the world organise as a class, take possession of the means of production, abolish the wage system, and live in harmony with the Earth.””

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avelera · 18 days ago

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(Writing Advice) Tips for Writing Dialogue

I would never, ever give unsolicited critique on a fic and I would never, ever out a fic I'm reading as being the one I want to critique.

But it gets so much harder when the edits I want to offer are really simple ones. Like, when I know where the author stands in their growth and I can see so clearly what their next step would be and I just aoiruoairoiariowaurwouARGH want to point out one little concept that will elevate their story by lightyears but since I do not know this person I don't dare because you never know what advice is going to be absolutely crushing to someone and entirely unwanted.

SO, before I explode, I want to give the advice I would offer.

This is specifically for people who find themselves writing really long paragraphs of dialogue between two characters that feel sort of unnatural when read aloud. Dialogue that is very "on the nose" ie, characters say what they mean and they say EVERYTHING they mean in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. It's open, clear communication to a fault and sounds very unnatural as a result.

The thing is, I don't want to tell people not to do that. Actually, writing out EVERYTHING the character could say is a GREAT first step! But the second draft should involve whittling down all of that into the most powerful or gripping parts of that paragraph. And I want to discuss how:

(Note, sometimes that is the pleasure of the genre that the author is going for! Sometimes in fic, the canon characters are so bad at communicating that it can be pleasurable just to write them fucking talking to each other for once.)

But, if your goal is to eventually write more naturalistic dialogue and also dialogue with a bit more tension and momentum to it that really pulls the reader along and makes them feel immersed in the world, you should keep in mind that most people don't say everything they mean in conversation. Even when people are being carefully, deliberately, perhaps even drunkenly entirely open with each other, they often speak in fragments or need to backtrack to clarify a point.

However, most people don't say everything they're thinking, especially if it's very vulnerable, because of things like fear of rejection, or pride, or even because they have their own goals that might be disrupted if the other person knew everything. Sometimes, there just isn't time for a big sit-down where all the feelings come out!

However, this isn't about small-talk, which is a bit more self-evident that it shouldn't be paragraphs long for every exchange. Fiction tends to thrive in momentous moments, moments that tend to be a bit rare in real life but that stick out in our minds forever.

For example, fiction revolves around couples realizing their feelings for each other far more often than any one person would experience that moment in their life. So in fiction we heighten and elevate these really powerful moments and we love exploring them as readers.

SO, when I'm stuck on ALLL the things characters could say to each other in a really charged moment, but I'm not sure what the best thing would be, I don't hold myself back. I just let it all out. I open a pair of brackets and say:

Bill says, [I love you. I don't know how to say it because I'm 20 years old and scared and I've never been in a relationship before, but I do. You've been my best friend my whole life. I think you're the most beautiful and amazing person I've ever met. If you reject me, it would destroy me. But losing you as a friend would destroy me even worse. So I feel like I have to play it cool for a variety of societal pressure reasons but also to protect my heart and my pride. I want to open the door a bit, I want to hint that I like you, but I don't want to risk it if I overstep. I'm not ready to take the leap yet if there's even the slightest chance it won't work. Maybe we could try getting coffee?]

Then I'll go back through and bold the lines that are most powerful to me, the ones I really want to keep, as seen above. Then I mull over that for a bit and try to put it into more naturalistic speech. Something like,

Bill says, "Yeah, well... you're pretty cool too, I guess. Maybe we could grab coffee sometime. Try that new place that just opened."

^^^ Obviously this isn't award winning dialogue but what I would hope to capture with it is a young, insecure person who is leaving a lot of openings for plausible deniability, who isn't overcommitting to a love confession that could get their heart stomped on but is tentatively advancing a compliment and a desire to spend more time together at a plausible location for either a date or just friends hanging out.

The rest of what's deleted from the paragraph is now a secret that they're trying to hide. And secrets tend to be very powerful in fiction and performance. It makes the audience mentally engage with what they think is hidden behind those words. It leaves space too for more conversations between the characters.

Maybe over coffee a bit more of that entire paragraph comes out, which pulls the reader along through the story. Maybe each time they hang out, a little more comes out after that, because most people don't give their love confessions in one huge block the minute they realize they have feelings. And the anticipation of getting to the moment where the whole hidden paragraph is revealed also pulls the reader along and makes them excited (hopefully) for that moment. It makes them keep reading your story to reach that moment.

Anyway, TL;DR: writing out a whole paragraph of everything your character is thinking for each line of dialogue, everything they could possibly say, is GREAT for the first draft! You don't want to lose a potentially juicy and powerful line just because you edited yourself too soon.

But in the SECOND draft, before you publish, dialogue gets a lot more powerful and compelling if you whittle it down to be more naturalistic, to hold a bit back, to allow a bit of mystery, especially with big emotions and confessions that would be hard or scary for a person to reveal, that might encompass the actual plot or subplot of your story (for example, getting to a love confession could be the plot or subplot of a slowburn romance, so you want to sort of piece that build-up out and not just dump a whole confession on the first page, unless that IS your goal!).

Trimming down a huge paragraph to one line of dialogue also makes for snappier, more dynamic dialogue overall, even if the content isn't as emotionally charged as a one-in-a-lifetime love confession.

#writing #writing advice #maggie rambles

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passiveagreeable · 2 years ago

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So the tipping is difficult to say. I think general wisdom says about 1 to 2 bucks per drink, which could be far more than 15% depending on the price of your drink, or it could be about the same. If you’re ordering really expensive or fancy things, then maybe less. So it seems to me that tipping per drink may have the bartender come out ahead. Or it may not, that completely depends on the behavior of the customer.

The transaction fee for paying with card though, that is real and a problem, and definitely one main reason for wanting one transaction.

As far as “closing out manually,” restaurants and bars and other places can have totally different register systems. Newer restaurants and especially places where you order and pay at a counter, like fast food or very casual places, tend to have vastly different systems than a typical sit down restaurant. But in my experience, all transactions were connected to one bill or one table in the computer.

When I’m in Europe, they just bring that nifty portable card reader to the table and type in whatever the quantity of the check is. The payment is not directly connected to the computer system to manages who orders what and where. Generally speaking, in my experience, that’s not possible here. So you have to close each check or table individually and independently from the rest. So that’s, to my knowledge, the meaning of “close out manually.”

I think it was mentioned before, but as far as fraud, because the standard is that they will take the card from you and bring it to the computer to charge you, the blame and responsibility for fraud are different here. If your card is stolen, well they know where it was a who probably touched it. The credit card company is going to investigate if you say there has been fraud on your account, and unless you are found to be like particularly stupid with your card or were in fact aware and/or assisting with the fraud, or you have a history of causing trouble for the credit card company, they are going to cover the fraudulent charges.

Right Americans, I need an explanation. What on Earth are these kids doing wrong? Surely this is normal?

#whyyy are American insurance and card companies so flagrant about fraud? now that I can’t say because that does lose them money #people be saying wacky things on this post.#some Americans live in places that are by no means thpical where there’s more adoption of newer technology and whatnot #I’ve met some people that have no idea about normal things around the us because their one area they lived in did it differently #I can say I have been to many many places in the us so I feel like I can comment on the norms a bit #YES we have tap to pay. NO I didn’t know I could tap to pay with my card until I left the us #because anytime I tried it never worked and I had to insert it with the chip #SOME PLACES have the tap to pay. some say they have it but it never works and you have to use chip #the vast majority of the time I have to insert my card for the chip and tapping doesn’t work or I don’t even try to see #if you were in the us for the transition from magnetic strip to chip though. you would know that business aren’t top notch at adopting tech #now THAT was a disaster if I’ve ever seen one. and you’d think. how is that even possible?#well it IS and it happened. there was no norm. some places had chip some didn’t.#two of the same restaurant a few miles apart and one would have the chip reader and one not #also it took eternally longer than swiping your card ever did #I think the wait has decreased but at the beginning inserting your chip was a recipe to wait forever for the machine to work #and like the worker wouldn’t even know half the time. or you would do one and the machine would start beeping that you had to do the other #I feel obligated to defend the us in this case a little tiny bit because literally it’s not the fault of normal people #and yes. I /know/ handing them your card isn’t the safest but I literally can’t do anything else #we’re very cashless and to pay in cash is almost a novelty nowadays. especially for a large charge or something with a lot of change.#particularly in a restaurant #then again I’ve had cashiers and waitstaff be visibly grumpy with me in Europe over paying in cash for a bill #or if I try to make change or break a large bill? oh dear the world might be ending #this isn’t an isolated incident I have not just travelled to Europe I have lived there for long periods.#and I’ve never personally noticed that in the us. they just do it #also I will say that the first time they brought a card reader to the table. my father was aghast #that they can watch what you’re doing and see exactly how much you tip them or don’t #and my dad isn’t like not gonna tip or something but he was bothered by that.#he’s gotten used to it since then but the ideas of how things should be and what people prefer are just different 🤷‍��️

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months ago

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Cars bricked by bankrupt EV company will stay bricked

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

There are few phrases in the modern lexicon more accursed than "software-based car," and yet, this is how the failed EV maker Fisker billed its products, which retailed for $40-70k in the few short years before the company collapsed, shut down its servers, and degraded all those "software-based cars":

https://insideevs.com/news/723669/fisker-inc-bankruptcy-chapter-11-official/

Fisker billed itself as a "capital light" manufacturer, meaning that it didn't particularly make anything – rather, it "designed" cars that other companies built, allowing Fisker to focus on "experience," which is where the "software-based car" comes in. Virtually every subsystem in a Fisker car needs (or rather, needed) to periodically connect with its servers, either for regular operations or diagnostics and repair, creating frequent problems with brakes, airbags, shifting, battery management, locking and unlocking the doors:

https://www.businessinsider.com/fisker-owners-worry-about-vehicles-working-bankruptcy-2024-4

Since Fisker's bankruptcy, people with even minor problems with their Fisker EVs have found themselves owning expensive, inert lumps of conflict minerals and auto-loan debt; as one Fisker owner described it, "It's literally a lawn ornament right now":

https://www.businessinsider.com/fisker-owners-describe-chaos-to-keep-cars-running-after-bankruptcy-2024-7

This is, in many ways, typical Internet-of-Shit nonsense, but it's compounded by Fisker's capital light, all-outsource model, which led to extremely unreliable vehicles that have been plagued by recalls. The bankrupt company has proposed that vehicle owners should have to pay cash for these recalls, in order to reserve the company's capital for its creditors – a plan that is clearly illegal:

https://www.veritaglobal.net/fisker/document/2411390241007000000000005

This isn't even the first time Fisker has done this! Ten years ago, founder Henrik Fisker started another EV company called Fisker Automotive, which went bankrupt in 2014, leaving the company's "Karma" (no, really) long-range EVs (which were unreliable and prone to bursting into flames) in limbo:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fisker_Karma

Which raises the question: why did investors reward Fisker's initial incompetence by piling in for a second attempt? I think the answer lies in the very factor that has made Fisker's failure so hard on its customers: the "software-based car." Investors love the sound of a "software-based car" because they understand that a gadget that is connected to the cloud is ripe for rent-extraction, because with software comes a bundle of "IP rights" that let the company control its customers, critics and competitors:

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

A "software-based car" gets to mobilize the state to enforce its "IP," which allows it to force its customers to use authorized mechanics (who can, in turn, be price-gouged for licensing and diagnostic tools). "IP" can be used to shut down manufacturers of third party parts. "IP" allows manufacturers to revoke features that came with your car and charge you a monthly subscription fee for them. All sorts of features can be sold as downloadable content, and clawed back when title to the car changes hands, so that the new owners have to buy them again. "Software based cars" are easier to repo, making them perfect for the subprime auto-lending industry. And of course, "software-based cars" can gather much more surveillance data on drivers, which can be sold to sleazy, unregulated data-brokers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Unsurprisingly, there's a large number of Fisker cars that never sold, which the bankruptcy estate is seeking a buyer for. For a minute there, it looked like they'd found one: American Lease, which was looking to acquire the deadstock Fiskers for use as leased fleet cars. But now that deal seems dead, because no one can figure out how to restart Fisker's servers, and these vehicles are bricks without server access:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/10/08/fisker-bankruptcy-hits-major-speed-bump-as-fleet-sale-is-now-in-question/

It's hard to say why the company's servers are so intransigent, but there's a clue in the chaotic way that the company wound down its affairs. The company's final days sound like a scene from the last days of the German Democratic Republic, with apparats from the failing state charging about in chaos, without any plans for keeping things running:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2023/03/07/east-germany-stasi-surveillance-documents/

As it imploded, Fisker cycled through a string of Chief Financial officers, losing track of millions of dollars at a time:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/05/31/fisker-collapse-investigation-ev-ocean-suv-henrik-geeta/

When Fisker's landlord regained possession of its HQ, they found "complete disarray," including improperly stored drums of toxic waste:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/10/05/fiskers-hq-abandoned-in-complete-disarray-with-apparent-hazardous-waste-clay-models-left-behind/

And while Fisker's implosion is particularly messy, the fact that it landed in bankruptcy is entirely unexceptional. Most businesses fail (eventually) and most startups fail (quickly). Despite this, businesses – even those in heavily regulated sectors like automotive regulation – are allowed to design products and undertake operations that are not designed to outlast the (likely short-lived) company.

After the 2008 crisis and the collapse of financial institutions like Lehman Brothers, finance regulators acquired a renewed interest in succession planning. Lehman consisted of over 6,000 separate corporate entities, each one representing a bid to evade regulation and/or taxation. Unwinding that complex hairball took years, during which the entities that entrusted Lehman with their funds – pensions, charitable institutions, etc – were unable to access their money.

To avoid repeats of this catastrophe, regulators began to insist that banks produce "living wills" – plans for unwinding their affairs in the event of catastrophe. They had to undertake "stress tests" that simulated a wind-down as planned, both to make sure the plan worked and to estimate how long it would take to execute. Then banks were required to set aside sufficient capital to keep the lights on while the plan ran on.

This regulation has been indifferently enforced. Banks spent the intervening years insisting that they are capable of prudently self-regulating without all this interference, something they continue to insist upon even after the Silicon Valley Bank collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/15/mon-dieu-les-guillotines/#ceci-nes-pas-une-bailout

The fact that the rules haven't been enforced tells us nothing about whether the rules would work if they were enforced. A string of high-profile bankruptcies of companies who had no succession plans and whose collapse stands to materially harm large numbers of people tells us that something has to be done about this.

Take 23andme, the creepy genomics company that enticed millions of people into sending them their genetic material (even if you aren't a 23andme customer, they probably have most of your genome, thanks to relatives who sent in cheek-swabs). 23andme is now bankrupt, and its bankruptcy estate is shopping for a buyer who'd like to commercially exploit all that juicy genetic data, even if that is to the detriment of the people it came from. What's more, the bankruptcy estate is refusing to destroy samples from people who want to opt out of this future sale:

https://bourniquelaw.com/2024/10/09/data-23-and-me/

On a smaller scale, there's Juicebox, a company that makes EV chargers, who are exiting the North American market and shutting down their servers, killing the advanced functionality that customers paid extra for when they chose a Juicebox product:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/10/2/24260316/juicebox-ev-chargers-enel-x-way-closing-discontinued-app

I actually owned a Juicebox, which ultimately caught fire and melted down, either due to a manufacturing defect or to the criminal ineptitude of Treeium, the worst solar installers in Southern California (or both):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/27/here-comes-the-sun-king/#sign-here

Projects like Juice Rescue are trying to reverse-engineer the Juicebox server infrastructure and build an alternative:

https://juice-rescue.org/

This would be much simpler if Juicebox's manufacturer, Enel X Way, had been required to file a living will that explained how its customers would go on enjoying their property when and if the company discontinued support, exited the market, or went bankrupt.

That might be a big lift for every little tech startup (though it would be superior than trying to get justice after the company fails). But in regulated sectors like automotive manufacture or genomic analysis, a regulation that says, "Either design your products and services to fail safely, or escrow enough cash to keep the lights on for the duration of an orderly wind-down in the event that you shut down" would be perfectly reasonable. Companies could make "software based cars" but the more "software based" the car was, the more funds they'd have to escrow to transition their servers when they shut down (and the lest capital they'd have to build the car).

Such a rule should be in addition to more muscular rules simply banning the most abusive practices, like the Oregon state Right to Repair bill, which bans the "parts pairing" that makes repairing a Fisker car so onerous:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/3/27/24097042/right-to-repair-law-oregon-sb1596-parts-pairing-tina-kotek-signed

Or the Illinois state biometric privacy law, which strictly limits the use of the kind of genomic data that 23andme collected:

https://www.ilga.gov/legislation/ilcs/ilcs3.asp?ActID=3004

Failing to take action on these abusive practices is dangerous – and not just to the people who get burned by them. Every time a genomics research project turns into a privacy nightmare, that salts the earth for future medical research, making it much harder to conduct population-scale research, which can be carried out in privacy-preserving ways, and which pays huge scientific dividends that we all benefit from:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/01/the-palantir-will-see-you-now/#public-private-partnership

Just as Fisker's outrageous ripoff will make life harder for good cleantech companies:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/26/unplanned-obsolescence/#better-micetraps

If people are convinced that new, climate-friendly tech is a cesspool of grift and extraction, it will punish those firms that are making routine, breathtaking, exciting (and extremely vital) breakthroughs:

https://www.euronews.com/green/2024/10/08/norways-national-football-stadium-has-the-worlds-largest-vertical-solar-roof-how-does-it-w

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

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/2024/10/10/software-based-car/#based

#pluralistic #enshittification #evs #automotive #bricked #fisker #ocean #cleantech #iot #internet of shit #autoenshittification

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