#Fucking hated learning it

[monstat]

“I don't really need friends. You’re the only person i need in my life. Is that weird? I guess i'm not like most people.”

STARDEW VALLEY

Plot: Squinted smoking (It’s Sebastian), Sam angst, someone’s mom Mona, referring to reader as ‘Farmer’, and ‘Overalls’, Sam and Farmer were together, toxicity after divorce, asshole Sebastian and Farmer

Pairing: Sebastian x reader - Sam x reader

(???)

The maple tree taps on Sebastian’s back. Juniper bark creating a ticklish sensation through the baggy, black hoodie he can’t seem to get rid of.

Sam’s there, too. There’s not enough space on the old wood for the blond to press the full of his back onto, but that’s alright. He’s fine with standing beside his “best friend.” He’s fine with the silent conversation occurring.

He’s been fine with the distance.

That’s what “best friends” do. Sam can’t blame Sebastian for his MIA status, as of late. Though, they don’t talk like they used to, even Sam knows his “best friend” is too busy making babies to play chronicle games. There’s an occasional love tap during pool on late Fridays at the Saloon, but it always ends with Sam losing a ten-dollar bet, and a part of his pride.

His best friend, too. “Losing” him to the night - watching as the lanky back disappears down the path only a family member is allowed to pass through that late.

Then, it starts over again. Most Fridays, there’s an excuse. “Sorry, dude,” Sebastian would wince. There’s always a certain glint in his expression - mocking the halfhearted apology for what it’s worth. Which is little.

Sam can’t blame Sebastian’s glance towards the overalled form, who is usually chasing time and energy around town. Sebastian’s eyes tender in a way Sam can only describe as love. And Sam would know love.

Sebastian has a family - Sam knows. He’s reminded of it every time he sees the plum-haired baby in the frog onesie strapped to the married man’s chest. It’s the only occasion in which Sebastian ditches the hideout-sweater. Something about the barely-toddler pulling on the dull strings, ‘Trying to choke daddy.’

Sam can see the same look in Sebastian’s eyes now, on the maple tree. The one given every time the secondborn spills chocolate milk all over his tee.

Sebastian can’t even keep his eyes on the river ahead, before his gaze is instinctively drawn to the sound of metal on overall straps clinking together subtly, over the town track. The farmer always seems to be on the move. It’s what leads Sebastian to moments like this - which only last an hour. Which feels like ten seconds on the steps outside of Sam’s house, next to the bushed graves where Abigail’s old mona lies.

Time seems to go by faster than normal, here. Sebastian would know - and Sam can’t blame him for getting hit by cupid. That would be hypocritical. Sam remembers the adoring gaze because he would usually be the one wearing it. It’s hard to ignore the sound of overalls ringing when the heart still lies on the crop field.

He should blame Sebastian - but he doesn’t. They’re “best friends.” Even when Sebastian’s time is too occupied with wrangling real frogs and frog-costumed babies. He’s a loner - Sam knows. No doubt enjoying the rain that’s been passing through Stardew Valley these past few days. The farmer’s porch has a great view of the town during sunset. Sam would know.

He doesn’t shame Sebastian for leaning against the maple tree on this Monday. One hour, which feels like ten seconds before the hooded boy moves. It’s not accompanied by a harsh stomp in the mud where sebastian ashes his cigarette, though. It’s one of the many things the farmer has done for this town.

Just sincerity, and an almost longing gaze. “Later, Sam.” ‘Later’ is until the next festival. And even then, Sebastian is too busy holding the mini raven-haired baby while his spouse goes out onto the misty ice to win both of them the trophy for surpassing five slimy fish. Beating Willy.

Then, they go home, where Sebastian kisses his family goodnight, and in the morning, he comments on his partner’s rest. Flustering out that the late-night dream mumbling was cute. The farmer leaves and Sebastian stays. ‘Maybe that’s what he sees in Overalls,’ Sam wonders. Sebastian has never liked being forced into small talk. Into going out - venturing.

The farmer doesn’t seem to mind.

They fit. Unlike the tripod. Unlike Sam and Overalls.

Inspired by this frame on ‘Mal’s Sebastian expansion’

(I think. I have way too many mods)

[thebreadmantm]

Georgie my beloved ✨

(Plus the admiral)

[me8t]

consular caleb!! design i did bcuz i imagine if it werent for that nasty o66 business caleb would've either become a scholar or diplomat. he likes talking and learning let him talk and learn!! he's a fucking nerd!!

if the jedi are having diplomacy problems they're like "send in depas kid who likes to talk!!!" and he just sits there and makes himself a nuisance until the situation is resolved.

anyway most of the detailing here is based on the lothal temple cuz he probably still has that special connection to it okay goodbye

[phantomrose96]

The realest part of the Barbie Movie was when Barbie was like "okay but what if this hurts his feelings? what if this makes him sad? :(" after Ken stole her house, stole her car, and stole her agency, because as a woman you still have to second guess everything you do on the assessment of whether it might hurt a man's feelings.

And then that apprehension was proven right one million times over by the entire Conservative Internet Manosphere pissing and shitting and screaming themselves hoarse over Barbie daring to hurt a man's feelings.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so in an attempt to actually use positive thinking, anytime i fuck up and my brain reacts as if ive cause a minor apocalyptic event, i compare my fuck up to the 4 minute fuck up committed by the crew of the uss william d porter.

and only today, as i was having to explain what happened to my mom when i was explaining the whole comparison thing, did i realise that most people dont know about it and ive decided that needs to change because its objectively hilarious.

...which is a weird thing to say about an event that occured on a warship in 1943, specifically november 14th.

see the uss william d porter was a fletcher-class destroyer but you dont need to know what that means, just that she had guns that went bang bang and that she was escorting another ship, the uss iowa, to cairo.

while they were on their way there, they performed some gun trials like testing the anti-aircraft guns or the torpedos. and while they were running a torpedo drill, the crew of the porter managed to fire a live torpedo straight at the iowa which you know, in terms of a list of things to do while escorting a ship, shooting a torpedo at them is not on that list.

especially if the president of the united states is on board.

yeah so fdr was on board and the gun trials were actually his idea, and part of the trials was that they were conducted under radio silence.

and that means the crew of the porter couldnt just call the iowa to be like "move out the way, we accidentally shot a torpedo at you."

but they did have signal lamps and you know, the signalman on board was trained to signal this exact kind of message.

...and uh never mind, the signalman did manage to successfully tell the iowa that a torpedo was coming toward them but wasnt as successful when it came to the direction the torpedo was coming from.

not all hope is lost though because the signalman could still use the signal lamp to correct his previous mistake and-, never mind, he announced that the porter was reversing, which she wasnt.

yeah so at catastrophic mistake number 3, they broke radio silence to warn the iowa and she managed to turn out of the way just in time which meant no one got hurt. and even though the inquiry into the incident led to chief torpedoman (fantastic job title btw) lawton dawson being sentences to hard labour, fdr intervened and waved away his sentence, saying it was all an accident.

but yeah, so thats my new measure for "how much did i really fuck up?" and when i compared accidentally picking up a pencil case without a tag on it in wilko, turns out it was a very minor fuck-up. yes, the cashier had to ask another worker to grab a duplicate so they could scan the barcode, but i didnt nearly kill the president during wartime via accidental friendly fire

[kawareo]

"AI does this better than me :("

"My work is never as good as AI's :("

"I have to use AI to be good :("

you're devaluing yourself. AI is not smart, it's not creative, it just has access to the whole internet at once (which btw includes all the wrong things), and guess what, so do you. You're better than the plagiarism machine and you've been lied to and told that it's smarter than you and I hope you stop believing that because you deserve better

[ouroborosreilig]

throws these up too i guess

[lucabyte]

sometimes everything just sucks real real real bad

[sp0o0kylights]

Grass is green, water is wet, and Jonathan Byers does not like Steve Harrington.

These are known facts in the universe.

Computers were going to take over the world, a “mobile” phone was being invented, and Steve Harrington had lost most of his hearing.

These were unknown facts--rumors even, if you will. Eddie had never seen even a grain of truth to support any of them. 

(Well, maybe the computer thing, but only because Grant and Dustin both had made a couple of convincing arguments.) 

So he doesn’t think about it, when his freshman gang up on him. 

Doesn’t even factor the “can’t hear well” thing in, when he was tasked (demanded, whined, bitched and moaned at) with helping them explain to Steve why going to the release party of the new D&D box set, located at a hobby store only a mere 2 hour drive away, was important.

Eddie’s not even sure how the little shits got him to agree to do it until he’s standing in the parking lot in front of the former King himself. 

“The store’s leading up to the release with a handful of one-shots.” He’s explaining, unsure whether to pull out the bored act or play up his court jester persona, and thus mixing and matching on the fly. 

He does not care if Harrington doesn’t know what a one-shot is. 

“They’re releasing the set at midnight. You have to be there to get it though, you can’t have someone else pick it up for you because they only got a certain amount in.” 

Harrington’s frowning (no surprise) but it’s not until Eddie is well into his spiel about how his van is already full with the elder members of Hellfire, and thus has no room for the freshmen, that he realizes Steve isn’t quite looking at him. 

Is in fact, looking over his shoulder.

Eddie stops. Follows Harrington’s gaze.

Parked across from Steve’s Beemer, is Jonathan Byer’s barely working clunker car. 

A handful of steps in front of it, and thus nearly right behind Eddie, is the man himself.

His hands are still moving, mouth shaping words silent as he goes, his gaze locked not on Eddie or the kids--but on Steve. 

Who turns back around as Harrington’s eyes slide right back to him. 

“And this is taking place next Friday?” He says, in that sort of annoyed but resigned way parents aim at their children. “After school?” 

“I’d like to go during  school, but the freshmen insist you wouldn’t let them ditch out.” Eddie tells him. “They had two separate arguments about it.” 

Loud ones, that had interrupted the game and given Eddie a migraine. 

Once again Steve’s eyes slide away from him, to Jonathan. 

“They’re not skipping school.” He says suddenly, a glare forming and Jonathan makes an annoyed noise. 

“They argued about skipping, they’re not going to.” He says aloud, and finally steps up so that he’s next to Eddie instead of behind him. 

“Munson slow down, I can’t sign as fast as you’re talking.” He adds, in the hang-dog grumble he’s notorious for. 

Eddie stares at him. 

“Can he seriously not hear me?” 

“No.” Steve and Jonathan answer together. 

“I can kind of still hear,” Steve adds, gaze returning to Eddie’s face. “But its more loud music or noises. I can lip read, but you’re also talking too fast for that.” 

Without pausing, he turns back to Jonathan and says; “Why can’t you take them?”

“It’s Friday.” Byers deadpans. 

Eddie’s not an expert on sign language, but his hands somehow looked deadpan too. 

He’s not sure how Jonathan did that. 

“So?” Steve snarks back. 

What follows is an argument that Eddie is not, at all involved in, mostly because he’s too busy handling the fact that Jonathan Byers has learned sign language, for Steve Harrington, apparently, and given the tone the argument is taking they still don’t even like each other.  

Eventually the argument ends, Steve throwing his hands in the air and demanding that Jonathan owes him. 

(Eventually Eddie will corner the ever so quiet Will Byers and ask why the hell his brother learned sign language for someone he clearly fucking hates.

“Oh they don’t hate each other.” Baby Byers would say, in that shy, quiet way of his. “I think they’re actually friends now?” 

“You think?”

“Well--you’ve seen them.” Will shrugs. “I think being mean to each other is kinda their thing.” 

‘What the hell.’ Eddie would think, right up until he stumbled across one of the kids sign language books. 

Byers the Elder, he decides, isn’t the only person who should learn sign language to chew out Harrington properly.

The pay off is immediate. 

Or at least, the pay off of watching Steve’s shocked face the first time Eddie signs something vulgar at him is, anyway.)

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

“Dain is just an imperfect 21-year-old kid who trusted his dad, and is a little over-protective telling his chronically ill friend to sit the fuck down.”

[technovillain]

did you ever figure it out (?)

( part two of this comic )

[gunstellations]

In the world I love

_

In a different world

[radiant--as-the--sun]

do people really just wanna be fans of the hunger games and not mention palestine at all? like honestly? do you really wanna just support fictional uprisings and fighting back against fictional oppression but don't actually give a shit about it in real life? did y'all genuinely learn and internalize nothing from this series????

[haveihitanerve]

Ok ok hang on-

Has no one, ever, once, mentioned how fucking golden it is that Damian exists? 

Look at this kid. Look at him. It’s a child. A child. Not only a child- but a literal, physical, emotional copy of Bruce. Bruce. 

Holy fucking shit guys the potential. 

The batkids, every single one of them, has beef with Bruce in one form or another. Dick more than any of them. 

And then there comes this kid. This fucking child.

And hes been raised by assassins and that explains and excuses a lot- but he literally Bruce. 

But they cant hate this child. Thats…childish. 

And thats what makes him so perfect.

Because Damian is Bruce as a child, and as such, he gets away with the things Bruce cannot get excused by being young. 

The other kids have to witness these habits, and they joke and tease and are like “oh our own little Bruce”

But they cant complain. They can’t hate him. He’s a kid. He doesn’t know better. 

…So, how do none of them connect the dots that- maybe, just maybe, Damian now is Bruce now, except Damian now will outgrow this because he has them, and Bruce never did. 

Idk. just thoughts.

[eddiesblr]

there's still too many words to say please, can we make this undone

she really (really) means it – portland

[babymorte]

moneybags is the tom nook of the spyro universe and i’m glad ripto took over avalar