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#watering can principle
shiroikabocha · 5 months
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great to see TTP2 continuing the venerable Talos Principle tradition of giving me every dialogue option except the thing I really want to say
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boyfeminism · 2 years
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steam summer sale is over n i didnt buy bugsnax ): for the best bc i dont get paid again until the 14th and did not want to buy more games until after but like ): bideo bames ): bugsnax ):
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arminsumi · 3 months
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♡ 𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲!
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🔞 mdni / 18+ content
Pairings : fem reader / bully!Gojo Satoru / bully!Geto Suguru
Synopsis : college boy Satoru bullying you around with his best friend
Warnings : bullying kink, degradation, dacryphilia, dirty talk, bl*wjob, p*ssyjob, semi-public s*x, rough s*x, perv behaviors, namecalling (wh*re, sl*t, b*tch), getting caught, threesome, +++
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Bully!Gojo who asks Suguru to trip you down the corridors as you walk past them, so that you can fall right into his arms.
"Oopsie..." Suguru says, grinning like a jackass and sticking his leg out. Your face plants into the muscular chest of that white-haired freak, and then he pulls out one of his awful pick-up lines on you; "Fallin' for me, sweetheart? I knew you would eventually." he blatantly stares straight down at your cleavage. "What!" you give them a repulsed look and pull back. Your reaction elicits giggles from your two bullies, and they check out your ass as you walk away in a fit of anger. "... I'd give her backshots 'till dawn." Satoru says, and Suguru shakes his head at his best friend, "You're insane." he says, but Satoru says, "She looks like she needs to get fucked hard."
Bully!Gojo who grumbles and folds his arms, sat in the principle's office after pulling a water-dumping stunt on you just to see your nipples go hard.
He glares at his spiralbound notebook. Instead of writing an apology letter like the principle instructed him to do within an hour, he ends up writing your name over and over and drawing hearts around it, filling the page with little doodles of you as if he's some obsessed high school boy.
Bully!Gojo who loves the squeaks he elicits out of you when he slams and pins you against the wall.
"I bet you get so wet for me when I do this." he taunts, whispering lowly into your ear. "No I don't!" you lie, glaring up at him. He arches his back and bends his knees to level himself with your face, "Liar." he says, lips grazing your cheek. "F—feel for yourself, freak. You'll see I'm not wet..." you bluff. He arches a brow and dips his fingers between your thighs, making you gasp as he presses against your hole through your panties. He just grins, backs away, cockily lifts his chin, and leaves you standing there embarrassed.
Bully!Gojo who muffles your moans on his big hand while caging you with his body in the cramped closet at a college party.
He grinds his crotch against you, making you aware of the size difference between your bodies as his big, heavy cock divides your tiny pussy lips. "I know you need me, baby." he lowers his voice, cautious about getting caught with you in here, "Just say the word and I'll take you to heaven, I promise." he murmurs almost romantically, but before he can fully cast his spell over you, your classmate Nanami Kento draws back the closet door. "Wow. We're at a party, what's wrong with you two?" he scolds. Satoru chuckles guiltily while you just crumble in embarrassment, "Out, out! Stop fucking in my damn closet...!"
Bully!Gojo who loves it when you try to retaliate by spitting on his uniform. It gives him a brilliant idea for the next time you visit his dorm room for a class project.
"Spit on it. Make it sloppier. Good... now choke on me." he shoves your head down on his cock, big hand firmly holding the back of your hair. He makes you take as much of his meaty cock as your tiny mouth can handle. He groans and cums so hard after just a few shallow thrusts into your mouth. "Hey, don't let it fucking spill out, you whore. I want to see you swallowing every. fucking. drop." and damn, his cum is so thick and so much that you nearly choke on it. But that just makes his ego swell.
Bully!Gojo who stalks you like a cat in school, following you down corridors, cornering you in quiet classrooms, getting up in your face.
He doesn't let you breathe, he always closes the spaces and gaps between you and him. He'll be chewing you out for something, calling you a dumb slut while grazing his lips over yours. Arguments always lead to him growling "Shut up..." before slamming his lips onto yours. And when Satoru kisses you? He starts moaning real quick, something about you just makes him weak. Next thing you know, his fingertips are rising up your thighs and daring under your skirt, and your fingers are exploring under his shirt, feeling over his muscles.
Bully!Gojo who fingers you into ecstasy... in the middle of class.
He'll sit himself next to you, and you'll squirm uncomfortably under the scowls you receive from jealous girls. Thirty minutes into the lecture, you whisper-shout under your breath, "Satoru, you're embarrassing me!" and he murmurs back, "No, baby, you're embarrassing yourself with how fucking wet you are. Just listen to that pussy..." he goes harder, the sounds get louder and you can hardly think with how his fingers rub in and out of you. Satoru makes you orgasm on his fingers right there, grinning like a bastard at the feeling. You bet he taunts you afterwards, "I can't believe how slutty you are... you'd be a slutty girlfriend, huh?"
Bully!Gojo who has Suguru apologizing on his behalf all the time.
"I'm so sorry... I swear Satoru's not usually this much of a menace. He's just got a thing for you, haha..." it hurts his lil' heart to see you getting pushed around... sike. Lots of Gojo's gutsy plans originate from his nasty best friend. Satoru can only come up with the most basic shit; stealing your lunch, tickling your back, pinning you to the wall, bluffing how he'll "ruin your life". But Suguru? He's the one with the good ideas; dumping water on you from the balcony to see your cloths sticking to your body, persuading explicit pics out of you, and smirkingly staring at them with a wide-eyed Satoru... who thanks him.
Bully!Gojo who's got the most foul, nasty dirty talk.
"I'm gonna cum, don't stop!" you squeal in the backseat of his car, feeling him pound into you from the back. "Of course you are..." he humiliates you, pounding you harder and harder into your orgasm, "... tell me you're my little whore." he grunts. "I'm your whore!" you squeal, "Again..." he smiles sadistically, "I'm your whooore!" you reply weakly. He pulls you to his chest and grinds deeper inside, "Yeah that's right. You're just my little cock whore."
Bully!Gojo who gets off to you crying.
Tears streak your cheeks and your body shakes; trying to adjust to his size is impossible. He's always too deep, too thick, stretching you out and fucking up your guts like a pornstar. "Aw, can't take it? What a fucking crybaby." Satoru groans, slapping his hips into you back and forth like an animal. He hears you sniffling and moaning for more, "Keep crying; it's gonna make me cum so hard..."
Bully!Gojo who bets your pussy on a basketball game with Suguru and makes you sit and watch.
"Aw... princess, 'guess it's a draw. You don't mind if we share you, right? After all, sharing is caring. And we all care about each other, don't we?" Satoru smiles. They're sweaty and exhausted, but still have enough stamina in them to pound you. "Come on, show Suguru how sweet your holes feel."
Bully!Gojo and bully!Geto who literally bully their cocks into your pussy one after another, taking turns and telling you how good you feel and how good of a slut you are for them.
"Whose do you like better...?" Suguru asks, but you're too dumbed out, "I dunno! Both!" you squeal. He gives you a dangerous smile, "Aw... well, let's go another round and see." he says, making Satoru laugh, "Oh, I don't think she can handle another round. She's too weak."
Suguru just pushes your legs back, slides too deep inside, and coos, "You're right, Satoru. She takes cock like a bitch... we should train her into the perfect cockslut. Aw, look... she's smiling."
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© arminsumi
I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
This is fictional work.
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beakers-and-telescopes · 10 months
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OKAY THIS ARTICLE IS SO COOL
I'm going to try to explain this in a comprehensible way, because honestly it's wild to wrap your head around even for me, who has a degree in chemistry. But bear with me.
Okay, so. Solids, right? They are rigid enough to hold their shape, but aside from that they are quite variable. Some solids are hard, others are soft, some are brittle or rubbery or malleable. So what determines these qualities? And what creates the rigid structure that makes a solid a solid? Most people would tell you that it depends on the atoms that make up the solid, and the bonds between those atoms. Rubber is flexible because of the polymers it's made of, steel is strong because of the metallic bonds between its atoms. And this applies to all solids. Or so everybody thought.
A paper published in the journal Nature has discovered that biological materials such as wood, fungi, cotton, hair, and anything else that can respond to the humidity in the environment may be composed of a new class of matter dubbed "hydration solids". That's because the rigidity and solidness of the materials doesn't actually come from the atoms and bonds, but from the water molecules hanging out in between.
So basically, try to imagine a hydration solid as a bunch of balloons taped together to form a giant cube, with the actual balloon part representing the atoms and bonds of the material, and the air filling the balloons as the water in the pores of the solid. What makes this "solid" cube shaped? It's not because of the rubber at all, but the air inside. If you took out all the air from inside the balloons, the structure wouldn't be able to hold its shape.
Ozger Sahin, one of the paper's authors, said
"When we take a walk in the woods, we think of the trees and plants around us as typical solids. This research shows that we should really think of those trees and plants as towers of water holding sugars and proteins in place. It's really water's world."
And the great thing about this discovery (and one of the reasons to support its validity) is that thinking about hydration solids this way makes the math so so so much easier. Before this, if you wanted to calculate how water interacts with organic matter, you would need advanced computer simulations. Now, there are simple equations that you can do in your head. Being able to calculate a material's properties using basic physics principles is a really big deal, because so far we have only been able to do that with gasses (PV=nRT anyone?). Expanding that to a group that encompasses 50-90% of the biological world around us is huge.
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paperultra · 8 months
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back of house.
Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing
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If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.
“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”
Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.
“I’m sorry, Sanji.”
“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”
“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”
“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”
“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”
“I –”
“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”
Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”
Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”
“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”
“I’m her mentor.”
“And I’m the damn boss.”
The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.
Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.
“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”
Zeff grunts with satisfaction.
The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.
“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”
Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.
You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.
“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.
You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.
His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”
“It did.”
It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.
Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.
(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)
“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.
His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”
“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”
You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”
Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.
How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.
But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.
“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”
As always, your heart skips a beat.
“Okay.”
Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.
“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”
You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”
Your pulse pounds in your ears.
Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.
“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.
He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.
Indeed, this is home.
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pleasantboatpress · 5 months
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so, you wanted to start bookbinding?
so @princetofbone mentioned on my post for "factory settings" about wanting to know more about the binding style that i used for it. so i thought i might make a post about it.
i was as terrible as i always am for taking in progress shots, but i can link you to the resources i used in order to make my book. i would also like to point out that "factory settings" is my 120th bind, and i have been doing bookbinding as a hobby for just over 3 years now. unfortunately this means some of the methods that i used for that bind aren't particularly beginner friendly, just in terms of the tools and methods i have used, but i would love to point you in the right direction when it comes to resources. i dont say this to sound pretentious which i fear i might come across, just so that youre fully informed. getting into this hobby is fun and rewarding, but it can definitely be intimidating.
with that caveat, heres a list of links and resources that i have used for bookbinding in general, with additional links to methods i used specifically in regards to this bind.
ASH's how to make a book document. it gives you a great introduction into typesetting fics (where you format the text of fics to look like a traditionally published books) and then turning them into a case-bound book (the style i used for "factory settings"). it is comprehensive, and explains how to use microsoft word to do your bidding. it was invaluable to me when i was just starting out! currently i use affinity publisher to typeset/format my fics for printing, but i only bought and learned how to use that after i had been binding books for a year and a half. i made some beautiful typesets with word, and some of my close friends use it still and design stuff that i never would be able to in my wildest dreams (basically anything by @no-name-publishing)
DAS Bookbinding's Square Back Bradel Binding. a great style to do your first bind in! this method requires, when making the case, to attach the cover board and the spine board to a connecting piece of paper, which makes it so much easier to match the size of the case to the size of the text block (your printed out and sewn fic). using this method is what allowed me to get much more accurately fitting cases, and made me much more confident with the construction of the books i was making. a well-made book is something that is so wonderful to hold in your hands!
DAS Bookbinding's Rounded and Backed Cased Book. This is the specific method that i used to create my bind for "factory settings"! even before i could back my books, i found that watching DAS's videos in particular helped me see how books were traditionally made, and i was able to see different tips and tricks about how to make nicer books.
Book Edge Trimming Without... i trim the edges of my text block using my finishing press and a chisel i have sharpened using a whetstone and leather strop with buffing compound on it. i follow the method for trimming shown in this video!
Made Endpapers. i follow this method for my endpapers, as i used handmade lokta endpapers, and they can be quite thin, but they look beautiful! i used "tipped on" endpapers (where you have your endpaper and then put a thin strip of glue on the edge and attach it to your text block) i used for a very long time before this, but these feel like they are much more stable, as they are sewn with your text block.
Edge Sprinkling. this is the method that i used for decorating the edges of my text block. but the principle is basically clamping your text block tight and then sprinkling the edges. i do not believe you need to trim the edges in order to do sprinkles on the edges, and that's what makes it accessible! i personally just use really cheap acrylic paint that i water down and then flick it onto the edges with my thumb and a paint brush.
Double-Core Endbands. i sew my own endbands, which i followed this tutorial for. that being said, it's kind of confusing, and this video is a bit easier to follow, but it is a slightly different type of endband.
Case decoration. i used my silhouette cameo 4 to cut out my design for "factory settings" in htv (heat transfer vinyl). i also used my cameo 4 to cut out the oval of marbled paper on the front, as i honestly didn't want to try my hand at cutting an oval lol. i also glued some 300 gsm card with an oval cut out of the centre of it onto the cover before covering it with bookcloth, to get a kind of recess on the cover. i then glued the oval of marbled paper onto the top of the recessed area once it was covered with bookcloth, so that it was protected. the images i used were sourced from a mix of rawpixel, canva and pixabay. a more accessible way to get into cover decoration is by painting on a design for your cover as described in @a-gay-old-time's tutorial just here. or even doing paper labels, which look classy imo.
physical materials. sourcing these will depend on your country. i am located in australia, and have compiled a list with some other aussie bookbinders of places to buy from. here is a great post describing beginning materials for getting started binding.
@renegadepublishing. this tumblr is great! its what got me started bookbinding, and being in the discord has been inspiring, motivating, and honestly just one of the best online experiences i have ever had. it is full of resources, and most people in there are amateur bookbinders, with a couple of professionals thrown in. the discord is 18+, and anyone can join!
i'm sorry this post got so long, but i hope that this has a lot of information for you if you would like to get started bookbinding. its one of the best hobbies ive ever had, and i genuinely believe i will have it for the rest of my life.
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livinginshambles · 9 months
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How much are we worth? | James Potter
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Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader
Word count: 5.8k
Summary: Sirius bets that James can't get a girl to go out with him. James pursues you and falls for you. You are hurt when you find out that you were just a bet, even more when you realise how little they bet on you.
Notes: A classic: Strangers to friends to lovers, Angst, Bet trope, Fluff and happy ending because yey, I believe in second chances :) Existence of a wardrobe that works like newt scamanders suitcase and SPeLLing Mistakes
Masterlist
_________________
In hindsight, you should've known.
"Have you maybe considered giving up on her?" Remus' question caught James off guard when he returned to the marauders at the Gryffindor table after another failed attempt and rejection by Lily.
"Not until she's given me a chance at least," James responded, eyes trained on Lily's retreating figure. "Besides, this chasing game is sort of our thing now."
The marauders nodded sceptically.
"Not particularly the dynamic I'd want to have with the person I fancy," Peter whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. James shot him a look as if Peter had just committed the greatest betrayal of the century.
Sirius snorted out loud. "Dynamic my ass, yeah." He threw a piece of bread across the table in James' direction.
"He's stuck with Lily now because if he decides to chase some other poor girl and inevitably get rejected, it'll prove that James Potter just can't get some," he added, wearing a shit eating grin on his face.
James pulled a face at Sirius. "Oh please I can get girls. It's just that contrary to you, I actually show commitment to only one," he huffed.
Sirius shrugged. "You say that, but you've never even had a girlfriend. Been pining over Evans since first year. Besides, commitment or being stuck," he weighed his hands in the air. "Same same."
James rolled his eyes and got up. When he turned around, he crashed into someone who had been standing behind him, tripping her, and he sent her crashing into the Ravenclaw table behind him. The Ravenclaw sitting at that table ducked out of the way. She stuck her hands out to brace herself and loudly hissed when her hand ended up in someone's scalding soup.
"Godric, I am so sorry," James scrambled to offer her a napkin. She snatched it out of his hands and dried her hands. James saw that they were scorching red and more apologies stumbled out of his mouth.
"Let me help you get to madam Pomfrey," he offered, concern lacing his tone. He reached his hand out to her and she jerked away.
"Fuck off Potter, I'd rather take a bloody bath in boiling water than go anywhere with you." She spat, and left, hand pressed against her chest, covered by the napkin.
The commotion had everyone turn their heads at him and despite usually being a fan of being at the centre of attention, he embarrassedly sat down again.
"Guess really no girl wants to go anywhere with you, Prongs," Sirius snickered. James offered him a sour look.
"This was just because I literally burned her hand, Pads. Any other time, she would totally go out with me." James boasted, but guilt and concern for the girl who he didn't know, lingered in his mind.
"Right, you wanna bet?"
"The usual?"
"The usual."
They sealed the deal with a nod. Peter and Remus shared a look but they knew that was no use trying to tell them to stop it already. Remus thought back to the scowl on the girl's face and prayed that she would stay headstrong and reject James.
After all, Sirius and James were from wealthy families, so money has never actually played a role during these bets. It’s just the principle of it that counts and is the reason why they only ever bet one galleon. It meant someone would get hurt.
The scowl on your face disappeared with the cool relief of the running water from the girls bathroom on your hand, but the bitter feeling remained when your mind wandered to James Potter. You scoffed to yourself. Arrogant, self pretentious, blood boiling bully. Though never having been a victim of their pranks, you lost several friends to Beauxbatons because of the marauders’ cruelty.
You glanced at yourself in the mirror one last time and left for your Ancient Runes class where you walked to your designated seat next to Lily Evans. You two unsurprisingly got along. Though your personalities were nothing alike, you being rather reserved, you could both value each other’s calm presence and even ‘maturity’ to a certain degree.
She offered you a smile and you nodded at her in acknowledgement. “I’m embarrassed to ask this, but could I maybe share your book? I didn’t have time to pick it up after lunch.” Lily gave you a surprised look but quickly assured you that you could to which you offered her a small but grateful smile.
She opened her mouth to tell you something, when something else, or rather someone else, caught her attention. Before he even reached the table, she had already attempted to ward him off in a monotone voice. “Go away Potter, I’m not interested.”
“Not here for you, Lilypad,” he smugly said and stopped right next to you. Lily raised her eyebrows and looked at you with a concerned look. Without looking up from Lily’s book, you also repeated Lily’s words. “Fuck off Potter, I’m not interested either.”
“I haven’t even said anythi-“
“And I don’t want you to.”
“Okay, but here me out, I-“
“I. Don’t. Want. You. To,” you pronounced every word clearly.
“Come on, just listen-“
You turned around, an incredibly sour look on your face. James couldn’t help but admire you for a moment. You looked pretty, contorted face aside. Especially when you had smiled at Lily. It had caught him off guard.
“Can you spare me a second?” He tried again. For a second, he thought he saw a look of appreciation cross your face at his formulated words, but it was gone in a split second.
“No. Class is starting, get back to your seat Potter,” you dryly responded. You turned back to your book and James walked back to his friends.
James potter was determined though, you had to give him that. You abruptly turned on your heels, ready to walk in the opposite direction, even if it would mean a detour of about 8 minutes to your destination. You were really not into his crap today.
“Y/N!” James called out to you and chased you.
“I told you to call me by my last name. We're not friends, Potter. I don’t want to be. In fact, I don’t want anything to do with you. So, for Merlin’s sake, leave me alone, or I swear on his balls that I will hurt you.” You spat the last part out through gritted teeth and
James took a step back in surprise. He looked at you for a moment, carefully considering his next words. “L/N.” He settled on, voice quieter. When you didn’t immediately walk off, he took it as a sign to continue. “I was wondering if you would allow me to sit next to you during our free period between Transfiguration and Potions.”
You raised you eyebrows.
“My friends all took classes and there’s like a two hour gap and I like company, that’s all,” he hastily explained before you could go and reject him.
“What are you, six years old?” You sarcastically asked him. “Can’t spend what, two hours on your own?”
James’ eyes averted to the ground. “Just not enjoying being alone,” he mumbled, almost embarrassedly. You looked at him, great, now you were being an asshole yourself.
“You know the big old wardrobe in the abandoned classroom on the seventh floor?” you eventually asked. James’ eyes lit up and nodded.
“It’s bigger on the inside.” You said.
“A secret room?” He asked while trying to recall seeing an extra room on the map. You nodded. “Not even visible on your map because it’s not Hogwarts. A pocket dimension, Dumbledore said.”
James’ jaw fell slack. “You know about the map?” he whispered.
“You can join me there between classes next week if you want, but I can’t promise you that it’ll be any different to passing the time on your own.” You said, completely ignoring him. You stopped in front of the library. “A word about the wardrobe and I swear-“
“-on Merlin’s balls that you’ll hex me, yeah,” he waved you off with a triumphant smile.
“Witty, are you now.” You looked at him. A small smirk lingering on the corner of your lips. James heart skipped.
“Just one of the effects you have on me, darling,” he winked at you. “L/N,” he quickly corrected when your face fell into a scowl again.
“I’m not kidding though, this is my spot to get away from everything. I don’t feel like sharing it with people.” James felt flattered. So you would share it with him?
“I solemnly swear I won’t tell,” he assured you, a serious expression on his face. “You can trust me, L/N.” He cringed at his own words. Trust him? He was only talking to you to prove Sirius wrong.
“I’ll hold you to it, Potter,” you nodded and entered the library. The door closed and James slouched against the wall next to him. A giddy feeling fluttered in his stomach at the thought of hanging out with you.
“So what happened to rather bathing in boiling water than going anywhere with me,” James couldn’t help but arrogantly ask while trying to keep up with your ridiculously fast walking pace as you two were on your way to the wardrobe. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you’re going somewhere with me,” you denied, your eyes narrowed at him. James put his hands up in mock surrender. “Lead the way, L/N.”
“I am,” you deadpanned.
James sceptically looked at the oak wardrobe. He and his friends had rummaged through this room already. It included the wardrobe, but it had looked pretty normal.
“Doesn’t look very special,” he said while you were busy locking the door behind you. You made your way over to James and pushed him out of the way roughly. He gaped at you with an offended look on his face. “You know, being a bit more chivalrous wouldn’t hurt you,” he exclaimed.
You shrugged and opened the door. James stared in amazement as he realised that the inside was in fact bigger. He walked to the wall that the wardrobe was standing against and squeezed his hand between the wall and the wardrobe.
“Why are you so surprised?” you asked. “We literally learned about the Extension charm yesterday?”
“We did?”
Maybe hanging out with James Potter wasn’t as terrible as you had expected it to be and so, it became a routine. James had finally realised that his persistence to flirt with you or try to impress you wasn’t getting him anywhere and had opted to actually be considerate of you.
He respected you when you not so kindly told him to fuck off and was sitting next to you quietly while you studied between hours in the wardrobe. He had read the book that he’d seen you read in the courtyard- and was surprised to find himself interested in the story- so that he could talk to you about something when your demeanour told him that he could speak again. He stuck to calling you by your last name and learned to read your mood when he could joke around.
Most importantly, he’d learned to enjoy himself in a comfortable silence that didn’t require him to do or say anything and just let him be.
You two were laying on the couch again, feet propped up, both on opposite sides, but feet touching in the middle. James was admiring you. The way your eyebrows crunched up in a frown, eyes squinted, and lips mouthing the words you were reading.
“You’re careless with spelling, Potter.” You eventually looked up from correcting his assignment. “But that’s a brilliant essay.”
James beamed up at you, relief, pride and happiness all washing over him at once.
“Also, you have a nice handwriting,” you added after considering whether or not you should mention it.
James was now fully grinning, pushing himself to sit up from his relaxed position. “Two compliments?” he asked teasingly and you immediately huffed and looked away. “Don’t let it get to your head, Potter. It’s big as it is.”
“But you think I’m brilliant and that my handwriting is nice.” He repeated happily.
“Your essay was brilliant,” you attempted to correct him, but he seemed to be lost in happy thoughts. You looked at him. He had his arms up behand his neck because he had laid down again. He was grinning from ear to ear and his eyes squinted in delight and satisfaction. He looked so... harmless.
“You know,” you began and James looked up at you, propping himself up a little in curiosity at the fact that you were starting the conversation for the first time.
“I used to think you were the biggest asshole ever. Astoundingly stupid and good for nothing but hurting people.” You were looking up at the ceiling now and missed the way James eyes flashed with mixed feelings.
“I had a few friends, you know. They were great, but everyone called them boring and a stick in the mud.” You turned your head towards James. “You and the rest of the marauders used to tell us to “lighten up already,” and pranked us separately, one by one until all five moved schools.”
James looked down, feeling horrible and guilty. It was true that in his early years at Hogwarts, he and his friends had been going too far with pranks. That kind of stopped after that prank.
“So I’ve held a grudge against you, like any good friend would do,” you smiled to yourself at the thought of your friends. “I think maybe I no longer have to.” James heart melted at your confession. Over the course of weeks, he’d become desperate for your approval and friendship.
“You’ve changed since then,” you concluded out loud. “Not cruel anymore.” You hesitated for a moment.
“James?” You then asked and James looked up at you with wide eyes. He knew that this was the first time that you’d addressed him by his name instead of ‘Potter’.
“Yeah?”
“I really value our friendship,” you whispered. “It’s worth a lot to me.”
James heart both warmed and tightened. “It’s worth a lot to me too,” he whispered back.
“Where were you,” Remus asked when he returned to the Gryffindor common room. “We looked on the map, but we couldn’t find you.”
“And we couldn’t find Y/N either.” James fought the urge to correct them and say that they shouldn’t use your first name like that. That he had worked for your friendship to stop calling you by your last name.
“Do I owe you a galleon now?” Sirius popped up from behind him. “What? No,” James said, thinking of another subject to talk about, wanting to ignore the existence of the bet in the first place.
“I was hanging out with Y/N,” he admitted. “But because we're friends now.”
“Yeah, but where were you hanging out?” Peter asked. “Because we weren’t allowed to leave Hogwarts today.”
“Did you find another secret passage?” Sirius gasped and James immediately shook his head to deny it. “Oh come on, we’re your friends, you have to tell us!”
Remus watched James shift uncomfortably and tried to intervene. “Let him be, Padfoot.” Sirius wasn’t having it though, and when James said that he promised not to tell, he responded with, “What, you value your fake friendship with that stick-up-her-ass girl more than us?”
“It’s not a fake friendship,” he weakly fought back. “Don’t call her that.”
Sirius sighed. “I’m sorry Prongs. I didn’t mean to call her that, hell I don’t even know the girl, she’s probably alright. But you’re keeping secrets, it’s not fair.”
You stared in disbelief at the marauder who wasn’t James, having a hook-up in your wardrobe. When he noticed you in the entrance, Sirius merely held his hand up at you in a greeting. “Thanks for letting me borrow this, this is the best spot for not getting caught.”
You backed away and slammed the door shut. James.
“Potter!” you yelled at him when you saw him leave the Gryffindor chambers. Your face was contorted in anger and you were seething.
He looked up at you, happy feeling in his chest and he was itching to show you the paper behind his back.
You stabbed your finger in his chest, effectively wiping the happy grin on his face off. “You promised,” you hissed. James immediately knew what you were talking about. “I’m sorry, I had to tell him,” he tried to justify his actions and you scoffed. “Fuck you,” you spat and walked off.
James stood there, frozen and stared at the empty spot in front of him. His arms hung by his side and he looked down at his essay which wore a big ‘O’ mark and right next to it in Professor McGonagall’s handwriting, ‘Keep this brilliant work up, Mr. Potter.’
James was watching you, sulking. He had made such progress and now it felt as if all those baby steps were for nothing, instead taking eight long strides back. You had closed yourself off again and James was too intimidated by your glares every time he walked in your direction, so he would change directions last minute every time you burned a hole through his head with your eyes.
‘This is so stupid’ he thought to himself when his body automatically steered him away from you again. He mustered up all of his courage and headed straight for you. He would rather face your wrath head on than go back to being strangers. Especially when tomorrow was free period again.
“Is it okay if I talk to you for a moment?” he asked, nervous.
You scanned him up and down. Everything about him looked remorseful, from his posture to dull eyes to his tone when he asked you if he could have a word. You waved at him to take a seat next to you, and he gratefully took the opportunity.
“I’m sorry. I swore I wouldn’t tell and I did and I shouldn’t have. I would go back in time and stop past me from telling Sirius, but I can’t, but I also don’t want to lose you because I meant what I said. This friendship is worth so much to me.” James took a deep breath. “So please let me make amends?” he finished.
“Okay.”
James blinked. “Okay?” he dumbly repeated.
“That’s what I said.”
“Wait, so that’s it? No grovelling? No conditions?”
“Would you like me to add conditions?”
“I mean..” James stuttered. “Sure?”
“Fine. Consider this your second chance , even though it technically is your third after your horrid behaviour towards my friends. It’s also your last.” You said that last part sharply. “Do you accept those terms?”
James nodded in relief and agreed. It was only when he laid in bed at night that he realised that he should’ve probably gotten clean on the matter of the bet right when he had the chance. He was on his last chance after all. But it would be alright. He would simply call off the bet and then it would be as if nothing ever happened. No one had to know, no one had to get hurt.
He waited after Transfiguration and grinned at you when you made your way to him. He had really looked forward to spending time with you again at your spot. Even if the marauders knew its location now, too.
“Lead the way, Y/N.”
“I am,” you retorted with a hint of amusement in your voice. James grinned and followed you, only noticing after a while that you were walking around on the third floor instead of the seventh. “Did you find a new spot?” he curiously asked.
“Yes. And no.” James huffed at your vagueness, imploring you to explain. “Let’s just say that Dumbledore got himself off my blacklist.” You turned the corner and moved a portrait to the side. James knew of the passageway. It was moist in there and cold so it hadn’t interested him and his friends very much. But behind the door you just opened, stood your wardrobe.
He looked at it, amazed. “You got Dumbledore to move a wardrobe for you?” he asked incredulously. You slyly smiled but didn’t say anything except for “I did the cleaning myself.”
“So what’s going on with you and James,” Lily curiously asked you. You shrugged and brought your water bottle to your lips. “Kept bothering me into a friendship, I guess.”
Lily laughed. “Well, whatever keeps him away from me,” she joked and you let out an audible laugh. She leaned in towards you. “But if he’s no longer fighting for my attention, but yours, I think it might mean that he fancies you.”
You choked on your water. “Most certainly not!” You strictly assured her and composed yourself. Lily laughed. “No need to get so defensive over his feelings. You make it seem as if I suggested that you fancied him,” she said, chuckling. You turned your head away and she gasped. “Do you fancy him?”
“What’s with all this gossiping and boys talk,” you grumbled, unpleased. “But for the record, I don’t think so.” You stuck your nose up.
“You don’t think so?” Lily repeated. “What do you mean?”
“I gravely appreciate him and I feel very comforted in his presence. We’re friends. It doesn’t mean I fancy him.” You answered. “Besides, I’ve never fancied anyone. Not sure I know what it’s like.”
“Okay, how would you feel if he starts dating someone, right now?”
You pondered over the question for a bit. “I guess he can do whatever he wants, but don’t expect me to share our spot with some random girl,” you said, the last part coming out more bitter than you expected. Huh. ‘Did you fancy James Potter?’ you wondered.
“I fancy her,” James told his friends while they were out in Hogsmeade.
“L/N?” Peter asked. James nodded in affirmation. “Well damn Prongs,” Sirius started. “What happened?”
“Y/N and I are good, I think. We fit and it feels amazing. It seems surprising, but we can talk for hours or sit in silence together without it being weird at all. Everything is comfortable with her, in like the good way,” James struggled to express all his feelings about you.
Sirius whistled. “Almost envious of you, Prongs. What about Evans though?”
James shrugged. “Not the kind of dynamic I want.”
“So are you going to tell her?” Remus asked. James puffed his chest. “Of course. I’m not shy about my feelings. I publicly chased after Lily for years,” he reasoned. But despite his big words, he felt like a nervous wreck. Because what if you rejected him?
James found you in the library. “Is now a good time?” he asked. You sat up straight. Last night, you had done a lot of thinking and came to the conclusion that yes, you fancied James Potter. “Yes, actually. I wanted to talk to you,” you replied. You got up and and started to gather your belongings. James grabbed your books for you and you left the library.
“I fancy you.”
James blinked. Were his ears deceiving him? Were you joking? Did you have a bet of your own going on with someone?
“I’m sorry?” he managed to get out, his voice an octave higher than usual.
“I fancy you,” you stated again. Matter of factly. “I came to the realisation yesterday and they do say honesty is the best policy.” James laughed softly at your sad attempt to lessen the awkward atmosphere.
“I actually wanted to talk to you to say the same thing,” he breathed out in a relieved manner. You stared at him in surprise. Okay. Definitely not what you expected.
“So you fancy me.” You repeated to make sure.
“And you fancy me.” James nodded.
“Do you want to go out with me?” you asked.
James’ heart leaped. He had spent so much time asking that question, he realised that how amazing it felt to hear the question directed at him. He grinned. “Glad you asked, darling. Yes, I’ll go out with you.” He reached out to you carefully wrapped an arm around you. You fully leaned into him in a hug and breathed him in.
“Think our relationship just went up in value.” You mumbled, your words slightly muffled by your face, hidden in his sweater.
You felt him laugh. “Well, we upgraded from friends to couple. How much are we worth now?”
You pretended to think about it. “We’re worth all the money in Gringotts bank.”
“That’s a lot of money,” he hummed.
You had taken James out on a date in the middle of the Gryffindor Quidditch stands at night, after curfew. James was the first to lean in and kiss you and when he did, he practically melted into you, your arms slung over his broad shoulders. He’d muttered something about how lucky he was and you’d told him that he better know it, before admitting that you felt the same way.
After you had left him several hickeys, scattered across his neck, he had insisted on returning the favour. He was only on his second when you two were interrupted by Filch, who had spotted you two. You two ran off to the third floor and decided to hide out in your wardrobe until he was gone all while continuing making out. You and James fell asleep in that position. You on your back on the couch, James draped over you like a weighted blanket with his face nuzzled in your throat, and your legs entangled.
Though very surprised at first, your fellow Hogwarts students quickly got used to the idea of you and James in a relationship. It wasn’t long before you were walking down the corridors together, James hand on your lower back and inching lower. You shot him a warning glare and he bit his check when he splayed his hand over your ass with a cheeky smile. You elbowed him in the ribs, earning a huff and let your hand rest on his ass in turn.
Everything was perfect, which is of course why everything had to become a disaster very quickly. James wasn’t even sure how such a perfect night had turned so horrible. One moment, you were partying, everything had been great, and he had been envisioning you and him for the rest of your lives, and the next, he was pleading with you through a locked door.
“Y/N, we can call you Y/N right?” Sirius had drunkenly slurred. You had rolled your eyes at his antics, but nodded. Though you would never admit it out loud, you appreciated the elder Black.
“I like you. We all like you and we’re happy that it’s you and not Evans anymore,” he mumbled on and he stumbled over his own feet, barely reacting in time to not drop to the floor.
You internally smiled at his words.
“I’m sorry that I was an asshole to you. You’re really great. If I had known, I wouldn’t have targeted your friend group for pranks or risked your feelings by making you part of a stupid bet.”
It was as if the world stopped spinning for a moment, music only barely in the background. “A bet?” you spoke in a dangerously low voice.
Sirius seemed to catch on to your change in demeanour and sobered up at an incredible rate. “Shit, no-“
But you had already turned around to find James, Sirius stumbling behind you to try and stop you.
“How much?” you spat out angrily when you found him. The music was luckily loud enough to hide your argument from other students.
James looked at you, confused. “How much?”
“How much are we worth?”
James frowned at you question. “All the money in Gringotts bank,” he calmly answered you and moved to embrace you, thinking you were just very drunk.
You pushed him away and he stumbled a few steps back.
“No,” you hoarsely responded. “That’s how much I think we’re worth. How much did you bet on me.”
James’ blood ran cold. “I-“ His words opened and closed like a fish. “Because the amount better have been fucking worth it, James,” you cut him off.
“Darling-“
You felt numb. “How little?”
“A galleon.”
You nodded and stepped back. “I was wrong,” you shakily breathed out. “You, James Potter, are still cruel.”
James chased you. “Wait, please,” he begged. You ran out of the room, towards the third floor and into the wardrobe hidden behind the door behind the portrait.
James followed you and pulled on the knob to open the wardrobe that you had locked. He sunk down against the doors and took a deep breath.
He had to explain. He had to let you know that you meant everything to him. And that everything was real. Honesty is the best policy after all, right?
“I’m sorry. Darling, I am so sorry. It’s so stupid how it happened. They were saying that I couldn’t get anyone to go out with me and then I accidentally hurt you with the soup incident, so Sirius bet with me that I couldn’t get anyone you to go out with me. I was never planning on hurting you, I swear,“ James rambled.
“I wanted to apologize and make up for your hand anyway. Not that it was out of pity or anything,” he immediately added.
“I did think you were beautiful. I did want to talk to you. And when you rejected me at first, yes, I did want to prove Sirius wrong. But then you were everything. I wanted so desperately to be friends with you because you were right. The bet was stupid, but it was never about money. It was never even about you per se, but I’m so fucking happy that it ended up being you, because I’m in love with you. Please believe me.”
You sucked in a breath at his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
James jumped at your voice from the other side of the door. “I wanted to, I really did. But I had already screwed up once and you weren’t going to give me anymore chances, so I thought that if I just never told you and called of the bet, pretending it never happened, I could keep you.” He leaned back against the door, eyes tightly shut. “And if we break up, then I don’t regret it, because the past months with you were perfect,” he whispered.
The door abruptly opened from inside out and he stumbled back, having leaned against it. He looked up at you, hovering above him. He knew you. He knew how to read you and right now, you needed space. “I’ll wait for you,” he said, hesitantly and left you alone.
You needed your friends right now.
When James didn’t see you the next day, he accepted that you didn’t want to see him. But by now, almost an entire week had passed and James and his friends were itching to apologize to you at least once more. He decided to ask Lily where you were and was absolutely not prepared for her answer.
“She went to Beauxbatons.” Lily pursed her lips at the boy in front of her in disdain. She knew what had happened but couldn’t help but pity him a little bit when he looked at her like that. Devastated.
James’ world stopped and for a moment he thought he couldn’t breathe. Did you leave? Had he managed to push you away to a whole different school? He thanked Lily for her answer and sat down at his own desk in a daze. His body moved on autopilot for the next few days. He was falling into a routine that he didn’t like.
During free periods, he hid out in the wardrobe, face up towards the ceiling as he imagined you were lying in his arms right then.
You had been gone for a week and a half and had returned to Hogwarts. Feeling lighter in your heart and decisive steps carrying you towards the Gryffindor Quidditch stands, right on time for the match.
You saw James and your heart jumped. He looked good. He had definitely looked better before, but all in all, he looked good. You bit your lip, suddenly insecure and doubting his promise to wait for you. Another twenty points for Gryffindor and admired James from the distance.
When you had arrived at Beauxbatons, you had wallowed in self pity for a day or two before your friends had pulled you out of it and reasoned with you. Surprisingly on James’ behalf.
You knew they were right. You were madly in love with James and he was undoubtedly madly in love with you too. Though it had all started off as a bet, how could you stay upset when it only brought you and James together.
James eyes scanned through the crowd, automatically trailing to the spot where you two had been sitting and kissed during your first date. He had to do a double take when he saw you in the crowds and almost fell off his broomstick when he rubbed his eyes with both hands to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
He started making his way towards you when his eyes locked onto the golden snitch. His eyes flickered between you and the snitch, but you had seen it too, so you flashed him a grin. His shoulders relaxed, and he started the chase.
“Darling?” James appeared in the doorway to the boy’s changing rooms.
“James,” you nodded. You were smiling at him, and your warm, inviting tone had him move forward until you were within reach.
“I’ve missed you so much, I thought I lost you.”
“Hm, you’re just lucky that I really really love you too.” You sassed back. James was in front of you in two big steps. “Yeah?” he asked a twinkle in his eye. “Just like that? No grovelling? No conditions?”
You kissed him. “Would you like me to include grovelling?” you laughed at him.
“Yeah actually. You see, I’ve already prepared at least eight different ways to make up to you.”
He pressed his lips to yours again.
“Get a room!” Sirius yelled and you shot him a sour look. He held up his hands in surrender, a shit eating grin still present on his face.
“Fine, but don’t expect your captain back for the celebratory party. He’s mine tonight,” you shot back.
“And every other night, I hope?” James coyly smiled at you. You shook your head in amusement and dragged him away, hand slipping to rest on his ass, his own hand finding its way to yours.
“Lead the way, Darling.”
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“Humans in the loop” must detect the hardest-to-spot errors, at superhuman speed
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I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!
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If AI has a future (a big if), it will have to be economically viable. An industry can't spend 1,700% more on Nvidia chips than it earns indefinitely – not even with Nvidia being a principle investor in its largest customers:
https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=39883571
A company that pays 0.36-1 cents/query for electricity and (scarce, fresh) water can't indefinitely give those queries away by the millions to people who are expected to revise those queries dozens of times before eliciting the perfect botshit rendition of "instructions for removing a grilled cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible":
https://www.semianalysis.com/p/the-inference-cost-of-search-disruption
Eventually, the industry will have to uncover some mix of applications that will cover its operating costs, if only to keep the lights on in the face of investor disillusionment (this isn't optional – investor disillusionment is an inevitable part of every bubble).
Now, there are lots of low-stakes applications for AI that can run just fine on the current AI technology, despite its many – and seemingly inescapable - errors ("hallucinations"). People who use AI to generate illustrations of their D&D characters engaged in epic adventures from their previous gaming session don't care about the odd extra finger. If the chatbot powering a tourist's automatic text-to-translation-to-speech phone tool gets a few words wrong, it's still much better than the alternative of speaking slowly and loudly in your own language while making emphatic hand-gestures.
There are lots of these applications, and many of the people who benefit from them would doubtless pay something for them. The problem – from an AI company's perspective – is that these aren't just low-stakes, they're also low-value. Their users would pay something for them, but not very much.
For AI to keep its servers on through the coming trough of disillusionment, it will have to locate high-value applications, too. Economically speaking, the function of low-value applications is to soak up excess capacity and produce value at the margins after the high-value applications pay the bills. Low-value applications are a side-dish, like the coach seats on an airplane whose total operating expenses are paid by the business class passengers up front. Without the principle income from high-value applications, the servers shut down, and the low-value applications disappear:
https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/
Now, there are lots of high-value applications the AI industry has identified for its products. Broadly speaking, these high-value applications share the same problem: they are all high-stakes, which means they are very sensitive to errors. Mistakes made by apps that produce code, drive cars, or identify cancerous masses on chest X-rays are extremely consequential.
Some businesses may be insensitive to those consequences. Air Canada replaced its human customer service staff with chatbots that just lied to passengers, stealing hundreds of dollars from them in the process. But the process for getting your money back after you are defrauded by Air Canada's chatbot is so onerous that only one passenger has bothered to go through it, spending ten weeks exhausting all of Air Canada's internal review mechanisms before fighting his case for weeks more at the regulator:
https://bc.ctvnews.ca/air-canada-s-chatbot-gave-a-b-c-man-the-wrong-information-now-the-airline-has-to-pay-for-the-mistake-1.6769454
There's never just one ant. If this guy was defrauded by an AC chatbot, so were hundreds or thousands of other fliers. Air Canada doesn't have to pay them back. Air Canada is tacitly asserting that, as the country's flagship carrier and near-monopolist, it is too big to fail and too big to jail, which means it's too big to care.
Air Canada shows that for some business customers, AI doesn't need to be able to do a worker's job in order to be a smart purchase: a chatbot can replace a worker, fail to their worker's job, and still save the company money on balance.
I can't predict whether the world's sociopathic monopolists are numerous and powerful enough to keep the lights on for AI companies through leases for automation systems that let them commit consequence-free free fraud by replacing workers with chatbots that serve as moral crumple-zones for furious customers:
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0747563219304029
But even stipulating that this is sufficient, it's intrinsically unstable. Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, and the mass replacement of humans with high-speed fraud software seems likely to stoke the already blazing furnace of modern antitrust:
https://www.eff.org/de/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby
Of course, the AI companies have their own answer to this conundrum. A high-stakes/high-value customer can still fire workers and replace them with AI – they just need to hire fewer, cheaper workers to supervise the AI and monitor it for "hallucinations." This is called the "human in the loop" solution.
The human in the loop story has some glaring holes. From a worker's perspective, serving as the human in the loop in a scheme that cuts wage bills through AI is a nightmare – the worst possible kind of automation.
Let's pause for a little detour through automation theory here. Automation can augment a worker. We can call this a "centaur" – the worker offloads a repetitive task, or one that requires a high degree of vigilance, or (worst of all) both. They're a human head on a robot body (hence "centaur"). Think of the sensor/vision system in your car that beeps if you activate your turn-signal while a car is in your blind spot. You're in charge, but you're getting a second opinion from the robot.
Likewise, consider an AI tool that double-checks a radiologist's diagnosis of your chest X-ray and suggests a second look when its assessment doesn't match the radiologist's. Again, the human is in charge, but the robot is serving as a backstop and helpmeet, using its inexhaustible robotic vigilance to augment human skill.
That's centaurs. They're the good automation. Then there's the bad automation: the reverse-centaur, when the human is used to augment the robot.
Amazon warehouse pickers stand in one place while robotic shelving units trundle up to them at speed; then, the haptic bracelets shackled around their wrists buzz at them, directing them pick up specific items and move them to a basket, while a third automation system penalizes them for taking toilet breaks or even just walking around and shaking out their limbs to avoid a repetitive strain injury. This is a robotic head using a human body – and destroying it in the process.
An AI-assisted radiologist processes fewer chest X-rays every day, costing their employer more, on top of the cost of the AI. That's not what AI companies are selling. They're offering hospitals the power to create reverse centaurs: radiologist-assisted AIs. That's what "human in the loop" means.
This is a problem for workers, but it's also a problem for their bosses (assuming those bosses actually care about correcting AI hallucinations, rather than providing a figleaf that lets them commit fraud or kill people and shift the blame to an unpunishable AI).
Humans are good at a lot of things, but they're not good at eternal, perfect vigilance. Writing code is hard, but performing code-review (where you check someone else's code for errors) is much harder – and it gets even harder if the code you're reviewing is usually fine, because this requires that you maintain your vigilance for something that only occurs at rare and unpredictable intervals:
https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773779967521780169
But for a coding shop to make the cost of an AI pencil out, the human in the loop needs to be able to process a lot of AI-generated code. Replacing a human with an AI doesn't produce any savings if you need to hire two more humans to take turns doing close reads of the AI's code.
This is the fatal flaw in robo-taxi schemes. The "human in the loop" who is supposed to keep the murderbot from smashing into other cars, steering into oncoming traffic, or running down pedestrians isn't a driver, they're a driving instructor. This is a much harder job than being a driver, even when the student driver you're monitoring is a human, making human mistakes at human speed. It's even harder when the student driver is a robot, making errors at computer speed:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle
This is why the doomed robo-taxi company Cruise had to deploy 1.5 skilled, high-paid human monitors to oversee each of its murderbots, while traditional taxis operate at a fraction of the cost with a single, precaratized, low-paid human driver:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no
The vigilance problem is pretty fatal for the human-in-the-loop gambit, but there's another problem that is, if anything, even more fatal: the kinds of errors that AIs make.
Foundationally, AI is applied statistics. An AI company trains its AI by feeding it a lot of data about the real world. The program processes this data, looking for statistical correlations in that data, and makes a model of the world based on those correlations. A chatbot is a next-word-guessing program, and an AI "art" generator is a next-pixel-guessing program. They're drawing on billions of documents to find the most statistically likely way of finishing a sentence or a line of pixels in a bitmap:
https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922
This means that AI doesn't just make errors – it makes subtle errors, the kinds of errors that are the hardest for a human in the loop to spot, because they are the most statistically probable ways of being wrong. Sure, we notice the gross errors in AI output, like confidently claiming that a living human is dead:
https://www.tomsguide.com/opinion/according-to-chatgpt-im-dead
But the most common errors that AIs make are the ones we don't notice, because they're perfectly camouflaged as the truth. Think of the recurring AI programming error that inserts a call to a nonexistent library called "huggingface-cli," which is what the library would be called if developers reliably followed naming conventions. But due to a human inconsistency, the real library has a slightly different name. The fact that AIs repeatedly inserted references to the nonexistent library opened up a vulnerability – a security researcher created a (inert) malicious library with that name and tricked numerous companies into compiling it into their code because their human reviewers missed the chatbot's (statistically indistinguishable from the the truth) lie:
https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/
For a driving instructor or a code reviewer overseeing a human subject, the majority of errors are comparatively easy to spot, because they're the kinds of errors that lead to inconsistent library naming – places where a human behaved erratically or irregularly. But when reality is irregular or erratic, the AI will make errors by presuming that things are statistically normal.
These are the hardest kinds of errors to spot. They couldn't be harder for a human to detect if they were specifically designed to go undetected. The human in the loop isn't just being asked to spot mistakes – they're being actively deceived. The AI isn't merely wrong, it's constructing a subtle "what's wrong with this picture"-style puzzle. Not just one such puzzle, either: millions of them, at speed, which must be solved by the human in the loop, who must remain perfectly vigilant for things that are, by definition, almost totally unnoticeable.
This is a special new torment for reverse centaurs – and a significant problem for AI companies hoping to accumulate and keep enough high-value, high-stakes customers on their books to weather the coming trough of disillusionment.
This is pretty grim, but it gets grimmer. AI companies have argued that they have a third line of business, a way to make money for their customers beyond automation's gifts to their payrolls: they claim that they can perform difficult scientific tasks at superhuman speed, producing billion-dollar insights (new materials, new drugs, new proteins) at unimaginable speed.
However, these claims – credulously amplified by the non-technical press – keep on shattering when they are tested by experts who understand the esoteric domains in which AI is said to have an unbeatable advantage. For example, Google claimed that its Deepmind AI had discovered "millions of new materials," "equivalent to nearly 800 years’ worth of knowledge," constituting "an order-of-magnitude expansion in stable materials known to humanity":
https://deepmind.google/discover/blog/millions-of-new-materials-discovered-with-deep-learning/
It was a hoax. When independent material scientists reviewed representative samples of these "new materials," they concluded that "no new materials have been discovered" and that not one of these materials was "credible, useful and novel":
https://www.404media.co/google-says-it-discovered-millions-of-new-materials-with-ai-human-researchers/
As Brian Merchant writes, AI claims are eerily similar to "smoke and mirrors" – the dazzling reality-distortion field thrown up by 17th century magic lantern technology, which millions of people ascribed wild capabilities to, thanks to the outlandish claims of the technology's promoters:
https://www.bloodinthemachine.com/p/ai-really-is-smoke-and-mirrors
The fact that we have a four-hundred-year-old name for this phenomenon, and yet we're still falling prey to it is frankly a little depressing. And, unlucky for us, it turns out that AI therapybots can't help us with this – rather, they're apt to literally convince us to kill ourselves:
https://www.vice.com/en/article/pkadgm/man-dies-by-suicide-after-talking-with-ai-chatbot-widow-says
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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/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs
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Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
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prokopetz · 7 months
Text
As far as I can tell, girlposting on Tumblr operates according to roughly the same principles as the Border Mythic in the tabletop roleplaying game Nobilis: specifically, it is the power of attention which distinguishes a girl from her environment. Not only may any thing be a girl, but each constituent of a girl may itself be raised from the welter of experience and awakened to girlhood through the power of diligent observation. Thus, the rivergirl is a girl whole and complete, yet if one looks more closely, each droplet of water which comprises the rivergirl will resolve itself into a dropletgirl; and each molecule of H₂O making up each dropletgirl, into a moleculegirl; and so forth; and yet the rivergirl remains one and whole.
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jymwahuwu · 23 days
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@blbrrymilk in your inbox again TvT
which of the hsr men do you think are into boobjob/ paizuri?? or mostly likely to stare at/grope your chest often. i wanted to know your thoughts on this... (also reader who has a flat chest too please. i wondered who would tease you the most about your size... my mind is saying aventurine and sampo 😭)
sorry, it took me so many days to answer!! this is very enlightening and I have been thinking about how the men in HSR would react😩😚😽💖
-cw: dub-con, yandere tendencies, nipple clamps, boobjob
They love it so much: Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Argenti, Sampo
Like but not particularly keen on: Blade, Dan Heng, Dan Feng
He claims not to know what it is while stimulating you to orgasm: Luocha, Sunday
Consider this silly stuff: Dr. Ratio
-
They love it so much:
Jing Yuan:
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General likes your boobs and tits. No matter what size that is <3 If you have busty/medium boobs, be prepared to be rubbed by boobs for a long time. If you have flat/small boobs, expect to have your boobs licked so that they glisten with water. He looks forward to the day when your buds swell and your milk leaks… (I have written a more detailed version before)
Aventurine:
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Exactly. If you have small breasts, he will definitely laugh at you first. Staring at your flat breasts with a mean look. Use his thumb to circle the areola and squeeze. But the look that turned into affection gave him away. He kisses your nipples. If you have large/medium boobs there is a milking machine for you and try boobjobs.
No matter what your breast size is, he has some custom nipple clamps in colors and patterns for you. Aventurine is not cruel, the nipple clamps are very loose and only slightly painful when clamped on your breasts. You whimpered and bounced on top of him, the nipple clamps on your breasts swaying. What a beautiful scenery.
Argenti:
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There is no doubt that this knight adores your breasts, no matter the size. He looks at your breasts carefully and plays with them, and invariably ends with a boobjob. Because who can resist worshiping such beauty as you? Lots of compliments and squirting sounds. Cock inserted when you're shy.
Sampo:
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Take off your clothes. You pumped your fist as Sampo laughed at your small size. He quickly blocked your punch and claimed that he just liked it so much… No matter what your size, he would give you a customized gift, a cute bra!
He is very patient, and the hair lying on your chest is itching and shaking for a long time. Orgasm after orgasm was pulled out of you, and when your mind was blurred by the orgasm, he held you tightly and penetrated you firmly, rubbing your breasts.
Like but not particularly keen on:
Blade:
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Your bra was mostly destroyed into his hands. When he pulls your bra, it rips. It's really too much!! Blade usually prefers to penetrate you roughly rather than rub your nipples, but sometimes he might do that.
Dan Heng, Dan Feng:
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These two dragons don't like these fancy things. They just squeeze your breasts without wanting a boobsjob. Why do they do this? You should be doing this to nurse the baby dragons.
He claims not to know what it is while stimulating you to orgasm:
Luocha:
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The foreign trader considered and read the explanation. Luocha claimed he didn't know this as he cupped your breasts and rubbed and squeezed them mercilessly, keeping an innocent look on his face as you gasped and climaxed.
Sunday:
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"What is that?"
Sunday's lips raised. The halo behind him became softer, and the feathers behind his ears were swaying. He requires you and serves Him. This is a type of dedication. You have to push your breasts and rub his cock...and at the critical moment, he'll dig his fingers into your wet walls and pound away.
Consider this silly stuff:
Dr. Ratio:
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Ratio pinches, pokes and rubs your breasts while explaining the principles of orgasm and breast stimulation. It was a rational, calm tone. He scoffs and sighs as you twitch uncontrollably.
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roaron · 1 year
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BEST FRIEND GOJO SATORU HEADCANONS
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-> (SFW ver.). -> (NSFW ver. coming soon ?) -> (Teen Gojo)
Genre -> (Crack + Fluff)
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- During your teens you, Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Nanami and Haibara used to visit the beach a lot, all together as one big happy family. You and Gojo would strip off your clothes to the bare minimum and run almost butt ass naked into the water as fast as you can. Screaming and laughing as you'd tackle each other into the wet sand and get seawater splashed into your eyes. Yelling at the burning sensation and hearing Getos chuckle from the beach mat and Nanamis grunt from his personal private sunbathing area. (Haibara is allowed entry obviously). Shoko just peacefully smokes pot on the side, unaware of everything thats happening.
- Gojo acts like he's unafraid of everything, but he isn't. You always call him to take care of bugs in your room. He comes in, chest puffed out and eyes shining. Till it starts flying and you hear his blood curling scream as he holds his head in his hands and pushes you to the side slamming you against a wall in an attempt to leave the room. When he sees you later in the infirmary with a dislocated shoulder he just turns around and pretends to not see you. A shit eating grin on his face.
- Neither of you had earphones for the longest time, so you just put the phones speaker in the middle of both of your faces when listening to music. Its extremely loud but you both don't give a shit. Heads swaying to the beat as a song with possible the most curse words in the world plays in both of your ears.
- During your teenage years you both used to run. Run away from it all, legs whipping against the wind, hand in hand. Hair flailing and tears threatening to fall. All you had was each other. Soulmates. You'd run and scream, leaving it all behind. Heart to heart, sprinting side by side. It felt like such a dream, he was running with you, his sunglasses about to fall of his head and his blue eyes collecting tears. Then as if as a sign, you tripped on the hill, and before you could tumble down and surely break a bone, Gojo grabbed you and held you in his arms as he went flying down with you secure in his grasp. When he finally slammed into a tree at the bottom, you looked up at him to see his face covered in scratches and that same silly smile plastered on his face.
- You'd both be quarantined after your running away episodes. Cursed to being put in separate rooms and staying there for ages. Unable to see each other. You would both giggle silently in your separate rooms. Tapping the wall to alert each other that you were still there, as you were literally next door to each other. Stupid idea by principle yaga but you both didn't complain. Till one night you went to sleep and woke up the next morning with Gojo lying beside you in bed, drool spilling from his mouth and snores that could be heard for miles. You turn your head to the wall that separated you and see a Gojo sized hole in it. He had smashed through the whole wall.
- As unusual as it may be, you both have baths together. Washing each others hair and making beards out of bubbles. Having long ass convos for hours till your skin turned all shrivelled. Then you'd share a massive towel and make a run for the dorms so principle yaga wouldn't catch you both being delinquents. Until Gojo steps on the towel and slips. Landing straight on his freshly washed ass. Naked in the middle of the hallway. You couldn't help but let out the loudest cackle as Nanami comes round the corner and immediately goes back the way he came at the sight of you on the floor laughing and Gojos body completely bare for the world to see.
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- Then as the future came around and Gojo entered the classroom to teach his students, they finally question the shining white ring on his ring finger. He just smiles and shrugs them off, knowing that at home, you’re waiting for him. A black ring mirroring his own, sitting perfectly on your wedding finger. A symbol of the two of you.
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avatar-anna · 13 days
Text
Whipped
Hockey player! Harry x Figure skater! Y/n
there are references to a previous oneshot. read here for more context!
"You comin' out tonight, Captain?"
Harry shut his locker as he shrugged into his t-shirt, water droplets spraying as he shook out his freshly washed hair. Rubbing some of the stray droplets off his face, he said, "Not tonight, boys. It's date night."
His teammates groaned in protest, a regular occurrence when Harry declined to go out with them. He shook his head at their collective disappointment, amused because when he did go out they typically got too hammered or went off in search of someone to hook up with.
"You'll be fine without me, I promise," Harry assured as they walked out of the locker room together.
"It's the principle of the thing," one of his teammates, Matt, said. He was new to the team this year, a transfer from a different school. "You never come out with us."
"That's not true!"
It wasn't true, was it? Harry had opted out of the last couple parties, preferring to take his girlfriend on a date or have a night in with her. Y/n wasn't overly fond of parties, and rightfully so after what she'd experienced a couple years ago, but even then Harry had begun to prefer their quiet nights together over a rager on Greek Row.
"It is. You're always with your girlfriend," another teammate said, making it sound like an accusation.
"Watch it," Harry said, his voice clipped, not having much tolerance for anyone who spoke badly about Y/n.
"Speaking of," Niall said, nodding to where Y/n waited by her car, her head dipped as she typed something on her phone.
Harry's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, a smile involuntarily finding its way onto his face. "So fucking whipped," Matt muttered as Harry walked over to Y/n, the rest agreeing, making their own jokes at their captain's expense. Harry merely flipped them off as he walked away from them, shaking as his head as he returned his focus back on his girl.
"What was that all about?" Y/n asked, looking over at Harry's teammates with a raised brow.
"Nothing, they're just giving me a hard time about not going out with them tonight," he explained, tossing his duffle bag in the back of Y/n's car.
"Oh," Y/n said. "Do you want to go out with them? We can take a raincheck for tonight."
That was what he loved about Y/n. What Harry's teammates didn't understand was that his girlfriend wasn't telling him not to go out. Y/n never got mad at him if he wanted to celebrate a win at a party , she knew his team was a close knit group. But Harry found himself preferring spending time with her than with the boys. Did that make him a shitty teammate? He didn't think so. Did it mean he was whipped? Maybe, but he didn't really see a problem with that. Not when being with Y/n made him so happy.
"Don't worry about them," Harry said, pulling Y/n as close as she could possibly get. "They're just jealous they don't get to spend the night with the hottest girl at our school."
Y/n started to laugh, but his mouth was already on hers, effectively ending the conversation.
*.*
Away games meant hours spent on a stuffy bus full of immature hockey players. When Harry was just a freshman, he was delegated to the back , forced to share seats with the other underclassmen while the juniors and seniors all stretched out across seats closer to the front of the bus, far, far away from the bathroom.
Now that Harry was both a senior and team captain, he got his pick of whatever row he wanted on the bus. He usually opted to sit up front, Zayn in the aisle across from him and Niall the one behind. In the hours leading up to arriving at their opponent's rink, Harry spent his time listening to music, getting himself in the zone to lead his team to victory. It was why he chose to sit in the first few rows of the bus closer to the coaches so he could focus.
Around hour two into their trip, Harry reached for the paper bag that had his lunch.
In the past, Harry went with a teammate or two to grab something to eat before getting on the bus, but after Harry had complained a couple times to Y/n that a burrito followed by an hours-long bus ride was a habitual mistake, she began to pack him a lunch. He didn't ask, and she never said anything about it. The first time he found a brown paper bag in their shared apartment, Y/n merely shrugged and said, "I already pack my own for competitions, it's no big deal."
"What'you got over there, Styles?"
But it was. It was her little ways of showing she cared. Harry learned early on in their relationship that Y/n had a hard time expressing herself with words, but she made up for it in gestures, like packing him an away game lunch and leaving little notes in them for him to find.
Harry perked up at the sound of his name to find one of his teammates standing in the aisle of the bus, eyes alight as he observed the brown paper bag in Harry's lap.
"What does it look like, Matt? It's a bag lunch," Zayn chimed in, having pulled one of his headphones off his ears.
"Please tell me Y/n isn't packing you lunch before games," Matt teased. "Is she your girlfriend or your mom?"
A few teammates who had been listening laughed and joined in on ribbing their captain, but Harry merely rolled his eyes. Matt had had a lot to say about his relationship recently. Nothing overly rude or offensive, but it was often enough that it was starting to become a "thing," and that Harry definitely didn't want.
"Y/n made you lunch? Can she make me one next time? What's in it?" Niall asked, who had previously been dozing against the window.
Ignoring Matt, Harry showed Niall the lunch Y/n made—a chicken wrap on a whole wheat tortilla, trail mix, a banana, hummus and pita bread, and a drink with electrolytes. The contents varied each time, but it was always healthy and filling, and Harry honestly felt better as he got off the bus than he used to.
"That a note?" Niall murmured so Matt wouldn't hear, having moved onto another topic toward the middle of the bus.
Harry reached for the folded piece of paper scattered among the food in his lap, trying to be discreet. "Good luck today, bub! xoxoxo" it read, and Harry quickly folded it back up and shoved it into his trouser pocket.
"How things have changed since you first met," Niall said with a chuckle, punching Harry's arm lightly.
"I'm not so sure. I think she likes to embarrass me more than anything else with this stuff. It's definitely working."
"Matt's an idiot, ignore him," Niall said, and Harry was inclined to agree. "You gonna eat that pita bread?"
Later that night, Harry trudged through the apartment, his duffle bag sliding off his arm in a heap by the front door. "Baby?" Harry called, noting the lights on in the apartment but no girlfriend. "You in the shower?"
Harry swatted his friend's hand away before he could snatch his lunch.
*.*
"Over here!" she said, her voice coming from their shared bedroom.
Harry loosened his tie as he walked down the hall toward his room, ready to be rid of his game-day clothes. He never understood why the team had to wear suits before and after games, especially after. The very last thing he wanted to do after playing a hockey game was wear a dress shirt and slacks.
Not paying attention, Harry began undressing, shedding his suit jacket first, carefully hanging it up the way he knew his girlfriend would appreciate. When he turned around, he finally noticed her.
"What's this?" he asked, eyes roaming Y/n's bare legs appreciatively. She laid on the bed in just his home jersey, the hem hiked up high enough that Harry could see a hint of lace from her underwear.
"Just a little something for your big win," Y/n said, a grin that said she could read every ounce of desire on his face.
She started to stand up on her knees, to go to him, Harry assumed, but he stopped her. "Wait. Stay right there."
He could feel Y/n's eye roll as Harry whipped his phone out of his back pocket, fumbling around until he had his camera pulled up. As he focused his phone on her, she didn't look amused, but there was a glint in her eye that told him she thought he was an idiot.
"You do this every time I surprise you in bed," she remarked, flipping Harry off when he started moving around for better angles
"Need a new screensaver," he said by way of explanation, doing just that before he set his phone down.
"Get over here before I decide to put pants on."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, quick to ditch his own trousers before joining his girlfriend on the bed.
*.*
A couple weeks later, Harry was finally at a party. His teammates were there, along with Y/n and a couple of her friends. Y/n, who still got tense at large house parties, stayed close to Harry's side the whole night, not eager to venture anywhere without him. He didn't mind, of course, in fact quite the opposite. As they sat around a bonfire in the house's backyard, Y/n sat on Harry's lap, his arms circled protectively around her waist. She had been perfectly fine with sitting beside him, but he'd pulled her onto his lap before she could.
"How are you always so warm?" he murmured, nuzzling his nose past her hair and against the skin of her neck. "Hm? You're like a little furnace."
"Stop that! Pay attention to the game," Y/n said, still leaning into his touch.
Her hands rested over his, warming his skin caused by the chilly autumn air. Harry was in a chunky cable knit sweater, but the cold still pierced his skin, making him squeeze his girlfriend tighter. That and the pleased giggle that came out of her mouth when he kissed the back of her neck.
"Hey, lovebirds! Feel like rejoining us anytime soon?"
Harry peeked out from behind Y/n, grinning cheekily at his friends, who were also sitting around the bonfire. Before he could say anything, Niall shouted from his seat over the music, "You guys are so in love it's gross."
The lighting outside was dim, the fire casting an orange glow over everything, but Harry could tell Y/n was blushing as the rest of their friends teased them playfully. It was no secret to Harry how his girlfriend felt, but she was more reserved than he was, and he knew it was a lot for everything to be out in the open, even so far down the line.
"He's fucking whipped, is what he is!"
Harry heard Matt's voice scattered throughout the others, and he could hear the slight edge to his tone. He wasn't quite sure what his teammate's problem was, or why he felt the need to comment on Harry's relationship all of a sudden, but it was starting to get on Harry's nerves.
Not having heard the bite that Harry did, his friends laughed. Y/n didn't, though, merely smiling at him as she squeezed his hand affectionately. "Don't let them get to you, bub," she murmured before standing up from his lap. He felt the loss of her warmth immediately, but didn't pull her back down to him. "I'm gonna head inside to go to the bathroom."
He didn't know if she actually had to, but Harry saw the offer to escape for what it was and took it. "I'll go with you," he said, standing up himself and taking her hand in his. They were almost to the sliding door that would lead them back to the house when Matt spoke, his voice rising above the rest and making them both stop.
"Seriously? You can't be alone for five minutes? For God's sake, let him off his leash, Y/n."
Anger coursed through Harry's veins immediately, but he did his best to push it aside to focus on his girlfriend, whose face was carefully blank.
"Sorry, what was that?" Y/n asked, slowly turning around to face him. Harry instantly read the look on her face. It was the same one she wore when he forgot to switch out his laundry or wash the dishes.
Matt stupidly doubled down instead of backing off. Niall and a couple of Harry's friends tried to stop him, understanding Y/n's anxiety about being left alone at parties, but he didn't listen.
"Never in a million years did I think our team captain would be so whipped for some—some—"
"Stop before you embarrass yourself," Y/n said, her voice not wavering once. "Maybe if your head wasn't so far up your own ass, you'd know I don't make Harry do anything, like you seem to believe. If he doesn't want to hang out with you, then that's his business, but honestly I don't blame him. You kind of suck."
Matt looked at Y/n in disbelief, mouth open but no words came out. Then he looked at Harry, as if his captain would offer some assistance, but Harry didn't do anything of the sort.
"Don't look at him, you're dealing with me now," Y/n said, stepping toward Matt. "And before you make some stupid fucking-ass comment about him being a bitch letting me fight his battles, save your breath. You started this, I'm ending it. Suck a dick and keep my name out of your mouth."
That's when Harry stepped in. He loved that Y/n was defending him on his behalf, but Matt was a good two heads taller than her, and his teammate had had a few. He didn't think Matt would get physical, but Harry was starting to realize Matt wasn't really a stand up guy.
Then, Matt muttered, "Fuck this," before storming back inside the house. The backyard was uncomfortably quiet for a moment, no one quite knowing what to say. That was until Niall said, "Well, that went about how I expected."
Harry let out a relieved chuckle, his free hand running through his hair. When everyone went back to their own conversations, he focused his attention back on his girlfriend, who hadn't said a word since Matt left.
He knew it took a lot for her to do that, that as confident as she was, Y/n still got anxious, especially in a setting like this. Squeezing her hand once, which had begun to tremble just slightly, Harry murmured quietly in her ear, "Let's go home, baby."
With a stiff nod, Y/n agreed, letting him lead her from the group and back into the house. When they were in the car, Y/n finally said, "Sorry if I made things uncomfortable. Matt's a dick but he's still your teammate."
"Don't apologize," Harry replied immediately. "He got what was coming to him."
They let the conversation end there, driving back to their apartment in silence, save the music playing through the car's speakers.
It wasn't until they were both in the comfort of their own bed that Y/n brought it up again. Nestling under the covers and into Harry's side, she said, "You're totally whipped, you know that, right?"
Harry sighed and kissed the top of her head. "I know."
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vivwritesfics · 13 days
Note
Would you maybe please write a carlando x reader were reader is sick or injured but is also really stubborn and doesn’t want to let the team down so maybe pushes herself a little too hard? She comes pretty high in the rankings but not without cost. Cue soft and fluffy carlando having to look after her and nurse her back to health? 💕💕
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"Out," she said as Lando led Carlos into her apartment. "Both of you."
They ignored her, Lando sitting on the couch as Carlos went to the kitchen to get her something hot to drink. "Baby, if you didn't want us coming into your apartment, you shouldn't have given us a key."
"You're sick," Carlos stated as he walked back over with a cup of tea. He placed it on the coffee table and held her shoulders, sitting her in the armchair.
(They joked that it was the best seat in the house, or it would have been of all three of them could have sat there).
"We're gonna help you get better for the race," Lando finished.
That consisted of three days of Carlos doing everything and Lando sitting on the other side of the room for her, because he didn't want to get sick.
On the Tuesday they travelled for the Grand Prix. On the Wednesday it was media duties. She swore she felt well enough for all of it.
On the friday they had practice. Another thing she swore she was okay for. Carlos and Lando tried to protest, but she wasn't listening. If she wanted to drive, she was going to drive.
And drive she did. But her vision went fuzzy around a corner, she missdd the racing line and dipped a wheel into the gravel, spinning out into the barrier.
It was a nasty crash, but she was fine. The car wasn't, though. There was no way she was going to drive in FP2.
Carlos and Lando really weren't happy with her when they got to her garage. Carlos, the controlled one of the two, had words with her team principle. Words that got their reserve driver in her car.
They got her back to her hotel room, helped her to shower and get into bed. "We'll get you some take out," Lando said as he placed a glass of water beside her.
"Not take out," she said pressing her hand to her burning forehead. "I still have my diet."
Suddenly Carlos was there with a cold flannel. "No diet for today. You need to get better." He kissed her forehead and placed the flannel to her skin. "Lan, stay with her," he said and left the apartment to get her food.
She turned to Lando, pouting. "I don't wanna eat takeout," she mumbled and he squeezed her hand.
"Eat what you can, baby. I'll eat the rest and we won't tell carlos." He held his pinky towards her. "Deal?"
"Deal."
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feminist-space · 5 months
Text
"Seminario cited the recent report, “Employer-Reported Workplace Injuries and Illnesses,” that shows that the number of respiratory illnesses in the private health care and social assistance sector increased from 145,300 in 2021 to 199,700 cases in 2022, an increase of 37.5 percent.
...
As an industrial hygienist, Seminario was extremely critical that there were no experts in respiratory protection on the committee nor did it include engineers who developed ventilation guidelines. She believes that the HICPAC committee members are likely so opposed to respirators “because once you are into recommending respiratory protection, with that comes a full respiratory protection program from OSHA,” with penalties for violations.
An epidemiologist and consultant, Michael Olesen, echoed this, believing the changes reflect “pressure to remove liability from hospitals.” He added, “I take a very clear position that we should be having respiratory protection mandates in all healthcare settings right now.”
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Many patients who spoke at the HICPAC meetings said they had gotten Covid-19 when they went to the hospital and that the new policies were keeping them from getting care.
Given that, Dr. Art Caplan, professor of medical ethics at New York University’s Grossman School of Medicine, previously told me that dropping masking requirements in hospitals is “utterly, completely, irresponsible.” Similarly, staff refusing to mask, even when a patient requests it, is a moral failure. “The first principle is, you must do what is in the best interest of your patient,” he said.
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Several people were asked why they believe HICPAC is determined to water down protections. Consistently, respondents say, “to reduce liability.” Earlier in the pandemic, hospitals regularly tested patients and staff for Covid-19, and you could often tell where and how you became infected. Since staff are no longer masking and continue working when ill, and patients are not being tested on admission, you can no longer prove who infected you. Hospitals are the only ones who win in this scenario, absolving themselves of responsibility and liability."
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aziraphale from good omens :)
Bahahahaha! Oh my.
Okay, for the sake of sportsmanship, let's be as fair as we can and give Dracula every fighting chance.
The first big question is holiness - Aziraphale is undoubtedly very very holy. But he's an angel of God, not literally God, and that makes a difference. If we take the demons of Good Omens as a test case, we can see that they share some traditional weaknesses with vampires, the most prominent one being Holy Water - (although NB Dracula never interacts with Holy Water in novel, just as none of the demons in Good Omens, book or series, never interact with the Host). It seems reasonable to presume that Crowley for instance would have a bad time with a crucifix. So we can perhaps say that the two are repulsed by the divine in much the same way. But. No one would ever suggest that Crowley cannot physically touch Aziraphale. Right? Apart from it being demonstrably untrue, whole pillars of fandom would collapse. It's a non-starter. So Aziraphale is not prima facie the kind of divine that is repulsive to the demoniac... except perhaps aesthetically.
The next thing to get out of way is that Aziraphale is not strictly speaking the kind of thing that can die. But he can be discorporated, and the waiting list on bodies is such a bother, so I am going to say that if his physical body gets destroyed by any means that counts as not surviving Castle Dracula, though I love the idea of him possessing people later in the novel (I'm thinking either Renfield or Van Helsing, because Renfield is basically a medium already and like real weird about angels, and Van Helsing has that one scene where Jonathan is like .... so I'm like 90% sure he was possessed and speaking with literal divine authority just then. Weird.) The question then becomes what it takes it discorporate an angel and whether Dracula in fact possesses those means. The one thing that actually accomplishes it in universe is that summoning circle, which is a pretty extreme example. BUT if we include actual biblical canon in our angelology, then, while while that doesn't bring us any closer to what, if anything, can kill an angel, we do at least have examples of angels being beaten in fistfights. So, for the purposes of this exercise, Aziraphale can in principle be killed, and he can also in principle be beaten in a fistfight.
It might make some difference if we are talking about the Book or the Series. Book!Aziraphale is a little bit more of a bastard, a little less naive, a little less distractactable, and (as is Crowley) a whole lot more terrifyingly competent than his televised counterpart.
...okay enough of this. Aziraphale outclasses Dracula so hard it's not even funny. Angels and Demons are set up to be evenly matched because they are fundamentally the same type of thing and that's the whole point - but Dracula isn't that type of Demon. He's a human person who's mildly demoniac because he majored in it in college. It's very impressive to other humans, sure, but like, the ravings of his solicitor aside, he's really not on the level of actual Demons of the Pit. And the things that humans are better at - creativity, growth, love - he's traded for vampirism. He's got the disadvantages of both without really the advantages of either.
Aziraphale's fatal flaw, if you want to call it that, is that he really likes humans. He would be delighted by Dracula's cooking and by his library. He would never stand for the baby eating. He would he more insufferable about the paprika than our baby lawyer. But he's also had 6000 years of learning to be unassuming and letting people underestimate him, and perfecting the Reverse Customer Service voice. He would do that Disapproving Bookseller thing and make Dracula uncomfortable in his own home. He's not the kind of thing that can be hypnotized. He's not going to waste time looking for the key, the doors will just open for him when he tells them to. And if all else fails he has wings, he can literally just leave whenever.
So um, yes. Aziraphale can survive Castle Dracula. And he will probably mess with Dracula non-trivially while he's there.
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