Intertidal + Ephemeral

1x05 || 2x13

More Tutorials~

welcome to my tutorials I have updated EVERY single tutorial making it a hell of a lot easier for you guise. Please before you ask me any HTML question check these tutorials as it will most likely help I’m hoping. If there’s a tutorial here you want/need or want me to put up message me a request and I will put it up for you. other than that enjoyyy. xo

basic codes.

- changing font colour of a particular word~

pop up tutorial/etc.

- pop up links and etc.

- pop ups faded and etc.

sidebar related.

- Adding a side/picture image on the corner of your blog

- Adding a sidebar quote.

- Rainbow links.

- Adding a corner sidebox quote.

- Hover over picture tutorial, so it changes pictures.

Html/other codes.

- Online script users tutorial.

- Disable right click tutorial.

- Blogroll tutorial.

- Infinite scrolling.

- Unfollower tracker.

tutorial requested by the anon

- tutorial for the sidequote : this tutorial could also be used for the pop ask thing too the title like mine.

- tutorial for gradient background/scrollbar/desc.

I loved you, I did;

But I'm yet to see if it was my mistake and sin

I am not a full AI skeptic but when it comes to AI-as-writer types I find its endorsers to be all the counterexample you need. Look at this:

Which is a fine enough basic idea, this has applications ofc. Then you zoom in:

And its like what on earth are you asking about. That is not an ambiguous sentence - particularly if you have any inkling at all of the plot of the Screwtape Letters, which you should if you are reading it. There is nothing in need of explanation here!

Even more silly, GPT's response isnt wrong, but because the sentence is a not-subtle, direct statement its 'explanation' is just a long-winded rephrasing of the sentence, it adds no value. But that didnt stop this person from copying the entire text into his notes apparently! His notes are an anti-synthesis of the text, *reducing* its meaning-per-word.

As an aid to a highschool freshman reading it, sure, this has value, its a google search tutor generating novel links on the spot. But these images were selected by the tweet author to highlight its value as a research aid for serious analysis, this should be the best it has to offer. What it shows instead is this use is an extremely poor fit for the tool.

I fully believe future developments will progress the tool in this direction; my point instead is how much of the hype is just froth right now. This tweet was not born of the impressive results of Chat-GPT; it was born of the impressive reach one can get shoehorning Chat-GPT into your content.

I love The Golden Girls.

Hannibal would go feral for young hugh dancy i just know it

Oh my god, I've just seen this story on instagram about this guy that filled his bathtub with waterbead...except he didn't think about how he was going to empty it.

So he unplugged the bathtub which was apparently the worst idea he could possibly have because this happened

So he panicked and started asking people on the internet what he should do. Which was also a bad idea.

First suggestion: flush the toilet

This caused a smelly overflow that flooded the whole bathroom.

Second suggestion: vaccum the beads

His vaccum caught fire.

At this point it had actually spread to the neighborhood and people came to ask question but he denied knowing anything about it. He then discovered that it's invaded the whole sewer system.

And yet, he continued to take suggestion from the internet.

Third suggestion: put salt in

It actually worked. Well, until.

Poop apprently started flooding his house.

And then the streets.

It all happened yesterday so we're still waiting on an update on the situation but I hadn't laugh like this in a while.

You should go and watch the whole story (it's in 4 parts)

It's in french, but you get it even if you don't speak it and his screams of panic are hilarious

Word of warning: don't fill your bathtub with waterbeads. Just don't.

Images work a powerful effect on the mind. If we question in our hearts who we are, our minds throw up to our vision an image of ourselves. We seek a picture, a word, a name. We feel we do not know our own feelings unless they are named. And we inherit through culture the very names we give to feelings.

This power of culture over our lives is a power we study and recognize. Kenneth Boulding, a philosopher in the sociology of knowledge, writes: "persons themselves are to a considerable extent what their images make them." And he follows this with another insight, which should be terrifying when we consider the images of men and women in pornography and in the pornographic sensibility. He writes: "people tend to remake themselves in the image which other people have of them."

The philosopher of language Wittgenstein gives us a similar insight. He writes: "The child learns to believe a host of things, i.e., it learns to act according to these beliefs. Bit by bit there forms a system of what is believed, and in that system some things stand unshakably fast and some are more or less liable to shift. What stands fast does so, not because it is intrinsically obvious or convincing; it is rather held fast by what lies around."

This relationship between culture and event has tragic consequences in our lives. In 1972, for example, the surgeon general's report on images of violence on television suggested that a causal relationship exists between an exposure to television violence and a child's participation in more aggressive behavior. For culture and event become one another. In the early twentieth century, a magazine publishes a photograph of a real event, a photograph of a woman political activist being tortured by the czarist police. Now this event, through its publication as a photograph, has become culture. And a young man buys this photograph. He stares at it. He becomes obsessed with it. Later he imagines that he is torturing a woman who has rejected him in the same fashion as this photograph depicts. Finally he actuates these fantasies in ritual tortures as a sadomasochist. (We read of his life after he becomes a patient of Wilhelm Stekel.) He makes culture actual.

By this transformation from image to act and act to image, we become imprisoned in a world of mirrors. For we cease to be able to tell illusion from actuality or to distinguish our own natures from the nature we are imagined to have. Thus if we are unhappy, we can find no way out of our dilemma, no door leading us into another world than this world of mirrors. In one mirror we see a photograph of a woman who is tortured. This may be a fictional pose. Or it may be a newspaper reporting an actual event. Or we may witness this event in our own lives. So, gradually, we cease to be able to imagine ourselves as otherwise. Every reflection we see tells us that only cruelty is possi-ble. That violence is inevitable. We are trapped by our own minds.

In this way culture becomes like a web that is invisible to our eyes, made up strand by strand of image and word, each strand becoming more powerful through the existence of the other strands. But we do not see any of the strands. We do not examine our assumptions, our choices, our decisions: Rather, they fade into the background for us. And we confuse them with ourselves and with nature.

So if an image turns into an act, we do not perceive this transformation as having taken place. Rather, we say to ourselves that the image has accurately predicted the future. And if a pornographic fantasy becomes an event, we say that pornography has truthfully portrayed sexuality. And finally, when we read that a man is convicted of kidnapping and "brutally" murdering an adolescent girl "to fulfill a bizarre sexual fantasy," we do not come to understand that the pornographic imagination can lead to actual murder. We do not suspect, as we ought to suspect, that pornography endangers our lives.

-Susan Griffin, Pornography and Silence: Culture’s Revenge Against Nature

@bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky I had to try👀

Pairing: Soft! Bucky × fem reader! Pregnant

Summary: it's been a good three months since you broke up with your asshole of a boyfriend. Almost 4 months pregnant and working from home leaves you little time to indulge in your cravings but when you smell a divine smell from the next door new neighbour whom you haven't even seen yet, you can't help but go ask for some. Who can stop a pregnant woman from eating what she wants?!

If this isn't hell, what is?! This smell has been taunting you for over a good 30 minutes and you're loosing your mind! Maybe you can go and ask for some. You can't just barge in for food like that! But you can't leave it alone either. So ofcourse, like a good lil' pregnant woman you had to go and bother the nice neighbours. How do I know which neighbours? Well, what do you think I've been doing for the past 30 minutes?! Snooping, of course.

Two knocks and a little bang later, Bucky sighs and finally leaves his cooking to go see who's at the door. He would've never expected a gorgeous but panicked and pregnant young woman standing there with a plate. The moment he opened his door, in proper american terms, you literally went off your rocker.

"Ummh, I was just going to knock once but then you didn't come so I knocked again and then I got anxious, cause like I have bad anxiety, like bad bad anxiety and so I just kicked the door once, sorry about the kick though. I just wa-"

"Hey, hey. It's okay, just breathe. You're okay, alright?"

You nod slowly with a sigh of relief and then smile sheepishly.

"Sorry about that. Uhmm, I just smelled something really good and I had to come ask for some of it! What is it that you're making?"

Bucky laughs softly. Hearing you talk like that about nice and mudane things, oh, he's missed this normal interaction. Ever since he's shifted, he has been couped up in his own apartment for over a week now, and then all of a sudden, this adorable babe comes asking for a helping of his latkes and the world feels warm again.

"Of course, I'll get you some. You wanna come in and see?"

You nod in excitment. Oh! He's very nice, way nicer than your shit piece of a boyfriend. You trod after him slowly, looking around only to find a simple apartment with not much of a personal touch. Frowning a little, you keep pace with your neighbour.

"I'm making latkes actually, they're simply put, potato pancakes, like fritters. C'mon, I can give you some for yourselves and your husband."

Bucky hums softly putting the latkes on your plate but when he looks up he sees you fidgeting and staring at the wall behind his head.

"Hey, you okay? Did I say something wrong?"

You swallow thickly to avoid crying. Pregnancy hormones suck! Clearing your throat you mention.

"I don't have any husband. I threw my last boyfriend's clothes in the building trashcan three months ago.", finishing with your clarification, you smile a wide one.

Bucky tries to hide his surprise at her revelations, you certainly sounds happy to have thrown the clothes in trashcan, he won't ruin it for you by asking useless questions.

He smiles back at you and says softly, "My bad. Then I gues it's more for you and the little one, eh?"

It was a fun evening for you. Eating a full plate of latkes and watching shows. A good end to the weekend you'd even say. But this morning has been annoying as fuck. Having a deadline to meet is already work enough, but now you've to do your laundry too because of course, you forgot to do it this weekend!

You huff and kick the dryer in irritation. Just bloody speed up, you little tin can!

"Are you planning to break it, doll?"

You gasp and turn around quickly. Your new neighbour looks good in almost everything. And right now he's looking very good in a black shirt and blue jeans. As you both stare at each other, for some reason you both start laughing.

"I'm Bucky by the way, you were more focused on the latkes yesterday, we didn't get to sharing names at all."

You flush at that but you know he's right. So, you chuckle and offer your name.

"That's a lovely name, doll. You look like you almost done with all that. What me to carry them up the stairs for you?"

"No, it's okay. I'll..", looking at the laundry basket you sigh, "...do it myself."

Bucky has never seen someone so adorable. The way she's so full of expressions and life, it's beautiful. He smiles softly, something he's been doing a lot since yesterday evening, and offers again.

"Hey, I live next door. It's no bother at all, unless you don't wanna walk with me?", he teases lightly.

You smile but give in easily.

It's been a good 3 weeks since you've known Bucky and you two are almost always spending your free time together. He cooks for you often saying he likes to cook anyway. You both have been have become really good friends and you live every second of it.

Her name's Kristen. Her eyes remind you of your mother so much that the name seems too fitting. Bucky's been a great help. You've come to trust him so much so that for the past two month since Kristen's birth he's even been sleeping on your couch often to help with the baby. You two are friends, but the amount of trust, feelings and care you both have for each other seems more than platonic. You've seen Bucky look at you and Kristen like you both are his whole world and frankly he's a big part of yours too.

"She's sleeping?"

"Yes, just put her to bed. How are you?"

"I'm alright, doll. Are you tired?", when you shake your head he continues, "here, I though I'd bring dinner. It's been long since you had latkes, don't you think?", he smiles lazily.

You chuckle and nod excitedly.

"How's the article coming along, doll? Made any progress?"

"Wish I did. I just need to uncoil you know? I've just been too tense for last few weeks." , and really horny but I can't say that to you just like that, can I?

Bucky looks at you intensely and hums audibly. You stare back, effortlessly and he looks away while walking to the kitchen counter with a small secretive smile. These staring matches have been getting frequent since the last month, sharing the apartment at frequent intervals has changed something between you two and given the stares, you both know it too.

Taking out the plates you put them on the table, all the while Bucky's watching you intensely and you know it. He comes towards you, still staring, but ends up taking out the sauce from the refrigerator beside you.

You are about to open the container to serve the latkes when suddenly his hand brushes yours as he puts the bottle of sauce beside the plates.

You freeze, breathing in sharply. Bucky's still watching you carefully, although the little smirk tells he did that on purpose; but you already know that, don't you?

"What are you trying, Bucky?"

"What, doll? Something the matter?", he smirk grows as he plays pretend.

Weeks of tension and suppressed sexual desire make you throw out caution right out of the bloody window. You pull him by his hair and kiss him roughly, all the while Bucky's participating eagerly.

Without wasting anytime, you both undress each other rapidly as he guides you to the couch, still kissing you deeply. Long minutes of hot passion, moaning, withering and grinding later, you pant harshly and mention "Condom?"

As Bucky extends his hand to bring his pants near, you bite his left cheek softly, "You had this planned you bastard, didn't you?"

He laughs roughly taking out the condom, "I've had enough of the staring, doll. Had to nudge you a little, love."

You both laugh softly as he rolls the condom over. Moaning into his skin as he enters you think, maybe you've finally reached you're happy ending, before loosing your mind to the inescapable passion again.

I would love a very pregnant reader (single, shit ex is out of picture for good) to smell something SO amazing her neighbor is making, her hormones cant hold her back she HAS to know what hes making. She waddles over with a little plate and shyly knocks on his door to ask for a little taste. Bucky thinks shes the most adorable thing hes ever seen as she waddles back to her place, content with his generous portion. It starts off as sweet and platonic and develops into a loving relationship where they also have their own babies together as well

Hi there!

Such a cute premise but I don’t write about pregnancy- sorry!