#and that made that whole process a lot easier

[planar-river-road]

I feel like the main difference between the previous generation's complaints and this generation's problems is that for the previous generation technology was getting increasingly complicated (in the sense that a lot of new technologies were implemented that made things a lot easier and more streamlined on a large scale, but more complicated for an individual, e.g. having to figure out Excel instead of simply writing down numbers on a sheet of paper so that five years later someone else doesn't have to drive three hours to look through fifty boxes of files with faded labels), while for the current generation technology is getting increasingly simplified (in the sense that companies tell you exactly how you're allowed to do A Task step by step and your own decisions are restricted to surface aesthetics).

I work in administration and IT support of a government service which famously is about two decades behind in technological innovation, which allows me to get a glimpse at that other side of the coin. People confused and upset that they have to fill out their forms online, which does improve things a lot on the administrative level, and for people for whom creating an account is easier and faster than picking up a bunch of paperwork at city hall, but which also rather understandably comes with some issues that the previous system didn't have (while offsetting mostly issues that only the employees had to deal with and the customer base never got to experience). People's frustration with the changes is understandable, but on the whole can be argued to be balanced out by the advantages, which just often aren't as obvious to people due to being more incremental or being partially offset by internal restructuring.

On the other hand there's talk of introducing AI into the system at some point in the future, which arguably won't offer advantages to anyone except the people who care about the process more than the results.

[leascorner]

j.b.b | The Grinch

Summary: Y/N can’t travel to see her family on Christmas so she invite her grumpy loner neighbour, Bucky.

Pairing:  Post blip!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of food and alcohol, angst, some vulgar language, everything is in the summary really, this is set like the falcon and the winter soldier never happened or it's happening before that.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is the 4th Xmas OS of the series. So sorry it is a couple of days late. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot! Merry Christmas!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

18th of December

$125

Y/N blinked at the number being displayed on her phone’s screen. She had stopped right in the middle of what she was doing, in utter disbelief of her discovery. Her whole process of thoughts seemed to have frozen; just like her computer would display “error 404” when she would perform contradictory actions.

She didn’t understand how this was possible; something was wrong obviously wrong because she didn’t expect this number to be displayed. Refusing what she was seeing, she logged out of the app and then back in a couple of times.

Yet, every time, the sentence was the same.

$125

Despite everything, this was currently the amount of money Y/N had on her bank account. These past couple of months, she had been saving for this moment; a moment she had been imagining all year long and for which she expected to be shredding happy tears. Instead, the tears currently running down her cheeks were made of pure anger.

She found the culprit quite easily. A monthly interest payment of a loan that was playfully mocking her on top of her bank statement. Now that she was thinking of it, she should have probably read all those letters; the ones with the red-inked stamp “urgent” printed on them. She had found all the excuses in the world: especially how exhaustive was she after having worked double shifts almost every day lately or that it had just been easier to have them sitting on her coffee table.

Y/N had no idea what she would do. If $125 was probably quite enough to eat until the end of the month if she made a few compromises, there was no way she would be able to buy flight tickets to get home for Christmas. She would have brought them earlier if she had been able to – at a time she still had the money on her bank account, for example – but her colleague had only confirmed that same day they could take over her shifts during the Christmas week. Now, she didn’t have any money and would be alone for the year-end celebration.

Her cell phone ringing made her snap back to reality. She was still in front of her building, keys in one hand, frozen in her action to enter. Her heart sunk has she discovered the picture displayed on the screen; her sister and her, one of the last pictures they had taken together, at Y/N’s university graduation ceremony, a couple of weeks before the blip. Her sister was most likely calling her about this “very good news” Y/N had texted her about that afternoon. Now, she only had to let her know that it had been a false alarm and that she wouldn’t be able to make it home this year.

Again.

It wouldn’t be the first time indeed. In fact, ever since the blip had been reversed, Y/N had not been home for the Christmas. At first, she had chosen not to. She was the only person in her family to have been gone. Without her, they all had continued with their lives, and the post-blip had been brutal for her. One second, she was full of life: she had just gotten an amazing job in New York, and she was going to live her dream. The other, the blip had happened, five years had passed, and she had lost everything. Her family, her job, herself. Her little sister was now older than her, graduating college and ready to start a family. Her parents had retired and started a new life in California. She didn’t have a dream job anymore; she had no job at all in fact. In this world that had changed so much, she felt out of places. So, she did what she thought was could do. She left everyone behind and moved to New York.

The months after moving there had been full of hope. Hope that she could still make it to her dream job and life after all. She had gotten in touch with associations working on helping people post-blip. They said: if she took a few classes, she could be retrained on the most up to date information and she would be able to get the job she had always dreamt of after all. Yet, it was even worse than college. She had to work part-time to be able to take the night classes. She either worked or studied; leaving only a few minutes a day to eat, sleep and bath. This was until some court bailiffs came banging to her door. The banks had been quick to be back to find the people that had disappeared and were now asking them to provide the past five years’ debt payment. All of her dreams had been shattered yet again.

Determined not to ask for help, Y/N stayed in New York and totally forgot about her dreams. Instead, she found another job at a bar-restaurant – one that paid better than the cashier part-time job she had until that – and worked there ever since, trying to pay off her initial student loan and the other loan she had had to take to be able to repay the requested five-years’ worth of debt in one go. She was now planning every spendings up to the last penny. She was living off diluted body and hair shower gel and all sorts of techniques to have the impression of having eaten a lot more than she had. Yet, it hadn’t been enough.

It was never enough…

Drying off her tears, she answered her phone and stuck it against her ear with her shoulder while she entered the building. She was quick to break the news to her sister. She kept her voice steady, not showing any emotions to shorten the conversation as much as possible. She did so as she collected her mail and then turned to take the stairs up to her apartment.

On the phone, Y/N didn’t see her neighbour coming down the stairs and eventually run straight into him. She would have fallen down the two steps she had just climbed if he hadn’t caught up by the arms at the very last moment.

"For fuck’s sake!" he sighed angrily. "Can’t you watch where you’re going?"

Y/N only answered by rolling her eyes. She picked up her phone from the floor; her sister was still on the line, calling after her. While she turned it to her, she discovered her screen totally shattered. She would have cried if she could have…

Without further ado, she put her phone back to her ear and continued to go up the stairs. Her neighbour – a guy that moved in a couple of months ago and that was hardly saying ‘hello’ the few times they had seen each other in the hall – huffed and without thinking nor turning back, Y/N flipped him off. She would probably be ashamed of this later, but at that moment, she couldn’t care less of what he would think of her.

She couldn’t care less about anything anyway.

20th of December

Two days later, as Y/N was slowly accepting the fact that she would not be with her family for Christmas, she encountered her favourite neighbour in the hall again.

She had just gotten home from work and was collecting a parcel in her letterbox. This was a present for her sister that she wouldn’t be able to give her in the end and for which she couldn’t even pay stamp to ship it to her home. She would be lucky if she could return it and get a few dollars back.

As she was closing her letterbox, her neighbour entered the hall. Feeling a little guilty about the other night, Y/N’s first thought was to apologies for her behaviour. A quick look at the guy and the constant frown on his face made her swallow her saliva; hard.

He was good-looking though, with his blue-piercing eyes and full lips. The stubble on his chin –always of the same length whenever she would see him – let her think that he was taking care of himself; though the way he dressed was clearly demonstrating he wasn’t really on point on the fashion side. If he wasn’t always so… whatever he always was… she probably would have liked him. With his grumpy looks, he reminded her of this movie character she liked so much when she was a kid: the Grinch.

In silence, Y/N watched from the corner of her eyes as he also checked his mailbox, a couple of meters away from hers. After gathering the few letters in the box, he sighed and abruptly closed the door.

“What now?” he asked as he turned to her.

Y/N jumped to the tone of his voice. He was clearly annoyed at her while she hadn’t done anything. At least that day.

“No need to be a dick,” she quickly bit back, annoyance building up in her voice as much as his, and he huffed again – this seemed to be something he would do a lot. She had to take a quick deep breath before continuing: "I wanted to… apology for the other night.”

The words nearly burnt her mouth as she was saying them. It cost her a lot to admit her wrongs, yet his cold eyes only started at her, and he spoke no words back. She didn’t know how she wanted him to react, but his absence of reaction startled her, and only made her want to justify herself further.

“I wasn’t in a good mood,” she added.

“You are not the only one to have bad days,” was all he said before leaving.

Taken aback, Y/N watched as he climbed the stairs and disappeared out of his sight. She couldn’t believe how much of a jerk he had been. She swore this was the last time she would ever speak to him.

22nd of December

Y/N rarely overslept.

The only reason for that was that she didn’t sleep a lot. Ever since the blip, she had trouble finding sleep and then, staying asleep. It was like her body had a big fear of missing out on everything and anything, so it just let her sleep the number of hours she needed to keep going. She would have thought that with the double shifts she was doing, she would have slept better, but she didn’t. Instead, she stayed wide awake in her bed, fixing the ceiling, eyes heavy with tiredness. She had all this time to think about the misery of her own life.

However, it seemed that night that the tiredness had gotten the most out of her, and as she never set an alarm clock – because she rarely needed, she was now going to be late for work. She took only a couple of minutes to get ready, drink a coffee and brush her teeth all at the same times. Ten minutes later, she was already grabbing her stuff and putting her coat on.

As she opened the door of her apartment, she came face-to-face with her neighbour going up the stairs. They both immediately stopped in their tracks.

He looked at her. Her eyes still puffy from the fact she had still been sleeping less than fifteen minutes ago. Hair all other the place even if she had put hair clips in them to keep them into place. She had dressed up in such a hurry, the shirt of her uniform was halfway in and halfway out of her pants.

She looked at him looking at her. With the same frown on his face and the same cold glance. Just this time, the circles around his eyes were darker than ever and he looked much more tired than her. For the first time, she saw something vulnerable in him, a flash of sadness in the blankness of his face.

They looked at one another. So different yet somehow similar. With their inability to sleep properly, the memories that kept them up at night and their resentment about this life that had been taken away from them. Both of them with all their trauma and weaknesses. With their constant melancholy and sometimes, their good days.

They looked at each other some more and then they both continued on with their day.

24th of December

Y/N was just settling on her couch – which was also her bed – in front of the TV, wrapped in her fluffy blanket and two pairs of fleece socks on her feet when she heard a knock on her door. She froze instantly; bad memories coming back to her in an instant. She had been visited a few times by different people always banging on her door at sunrise; each time, it never had ended well. Per pure reflex, she held her breath as if whoever was on her front door would be able to hear her - the walls were probably thin, but not this thin.

After counting to ten and not hearing anything else, she relaxed into her sofa. It was probably just her imagination at this point, this was how tired she was. She reached for the remote on the coffee table and started an episode of her favourite TV show. This was when she heard a knock for the second time. One time too many for her.

This time she paused her show and got on her feet to have a look. Sulking for the five steps it took her to go to the front door, she opened it bluntly and was surprised to find her neighbour ‘The Grinch’.

He looked at her, surprised and she looked at him, probably even more surprised. Her gaze turned instinctively to her feet and the fluffy pyjamas she was wearing. She couldn’t help the heat crawling up her neck, so she looked back to him and her eyes got stuck on his hands. One of flesh and one of metal. Holding a metal box between them. That he was now holding up to her.

She frowned.

“For you.”

Her eyes moved up to his face again, to check if he was serious or not. She could have fallen asleep the minutes her show started and be dreaming; though from how cold her feet were, she was pretty sure she wasn’t. Nothing on his face indicated he was joking – he didn’t seem to be the type to joke anyway. He wasn’t actually frowning, but he still had a small wrinkle in between his two eyebrows from all the frowning he was doing that somehow it still looked like he was. She wouldn’t say the expression on his face was friendly, but it had something that for once made her not want to close the door on his face.

Perhaps, it was because of the straight line his lips were in. They which were was usually so pink and so… luscious. From that, she couldn’t tell what he was feeling right now – was he nervous? Or simply contemplating all his life choices now that he was in front of her. She knew it was costing him to be here in front of her.

She looked back at the metal box in his hands; was he really expecting her to take it?

“My ma’ used to cook cookies for our neighbours,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His glance adverted to the ceiling as if he was looking for the right words to continue: “I thought maybe… this was a good way to apologize. For the other day…and all the times before that.”

This time, it was Y/N’s time to stop frowning – she would have to check later if she had also a wrinkle. She took the box he was handing her and nodded, in some sort of way to mean ‘thank you’. The box was heavier than she had expected it to be. She wondered if he had made them himself, like his ‘ma’ was probably doing.

“My name is Bucky by the way.” Was all he said before leaving her like that, a box of cookies in her hands.

25th of December

Working at a restaurant had its own perks. One of them being that Y/N could have at least one meal a day in the form of the staff meal. And on special occasions – like today – she could even get home with leftovers, most of them she would normally stock up in her freezer to make sure she had something to eat in the next couple of days.

That day though, when she climbed up the stairs, she didn’t stop on the second floor where her apartment was. Instead, her feet got her to the fourth floor, on the second door on the right. One she had never been to and yet, she knew exactly where to find it.

She didn’t hesitate one second before knocking, though the few seconds she had to wait she did get cold feet and wonder if it was really a good idea. Bucky did have gifted her handmade cookies – she had eaten a couple after he left while watching her favourite show, and it was the best she probably ever had. However, it did not mean they were now friends. They were just two adults, seeing each other in the hall of their building sometimes. That was all… Then, why was she so damned pulled towards him?

Bucky opened the door when she was about to turn around. He had a blank tank top and black pants on. Thankfully, he did not seem to be in the middle of a Christmas dinner and his apartment was pretty quiet behind him. His usual frown had been replaced by raised eyebrows. He was surprised to see her, on Christmas day, in her work clothes, at his door. He would have probably expected her to be in her family, with her friends or boyfriend, even. Instead, she had nowhere better to be than in front of him, right now.

They stared at each other for what seemed to be a long time, before his cat – Alpine as he called after, while trying to stop it to get outside his apartment – came to rub itself against her legs. She immediately lowered herself to scratch it behind the ear and Bucky observed them without a word. His cat, who was usually more than a little fearful of people it didn't know, was on the verge of lying down on the floor and beg for belly rubs.

“Are you on your own too?” was the only thing he spoke, and she got back on her feet, suddenly remembering why she was actually here.

“Wanna share?” she asked while showing him the paper bag in which she had the leftovers from the restaurant.

His eyes scanned her face a little too long for Y/N’s liking that she grew nervous. She felt like an idiot, believing… whatever – she wasn’t even sure she was believing. She was just lonely, having been alone for too long. The only people she hung out with would be her colleagues, on her work time – and they had taken a drink together after work a time or two. Most of them were students or only planning to be in the job for a couple of months before bouncing back. None of them was like her, as if she had been the only one to disappear off of the surface of the earth.

Over the last few years, she had repeated to herself – over and over again – that she didn’t need anyone. It was true somehow; she was fine alone. It was just that today she wanted a break from all of this, and she had thought of him. Because she had seen the veil before his eyes. She had seen it on hers before. She knew why… He was just like her. And perhaps, she had thought, they could be alone together. That was what they called the Christmas spirit, no?

“I mean, I’ve got more than enough, and you can have some. We don’t need to eat together. Totally fine if you wish to be alone.” She overexplained, speaking so fast he couldn’t say a word, even if he wanted to. She was just going to go home anyway. It was probably already late in the day; she would eat some food because she could – it was a victory on its own. “And you’ve probably already eaten, it’s fine. Don’t mind me.”

She was going to turn around, but he stepped on the side, making room for her to get in. Alpine instantly trotted in, its tail straight as a pick.

“I’ve got Gin,” was all he said again. A man of a few words he was.

And that was how they would both of them spent their first Christmases with someone in years. They would drink gin, try a bit of every leftover Y/N had gotten and finish by some kind of French pastry neither of them knew how it was named. They would speak for hours – or sort of, it was a few words here and there, making sentences altogether. They would have a good time and when it was time for Y/N to go home, she would suggest doing it again and Bucky would smile in response. A soft smile that would warm her heart forever. A smile that illuminated his whole face and probably his life.

And perhaps that was what exactly what she had come to find that night.

Some warmth.

[atthebell]

vandep asked about the process of making puzzles and cellbit said that there's a saying that making a hard puzzle is easy and making an easy puzzle is hard; you'll think you placed obvious clues and then people won't get them because they're not coming at it with the same knowledge that you have as the person making the puzzle. and players will sometimes try to focus on other elements rather than the clues that seem obvious to the creator.

he said like he's said before that all of the puzzles in the game were MUCH harder before and that after a lot of playtesting they worked on them to make them less difficult and easier for players to find clues for and get to without getting too frustrated. and after getting feedback they also found ways to make clues easier to find or correct/incorrect tries easier to realize-- adding sounds for something working or not working, for example.

he also added again that they made almost every puzzle able to be brute forced; that if you got part of it figured out, you could brute force the rest [or if you're foolish the whole thing 😭]. he mentioned that the head gameplay designer for dumativa, dan ximenes, had a lot of ideas about how games should work, and that he and cellbit would have to balance the creative vision with what works in a game and what kinds of player expectations they needed to work within and what they could surprise people with.

he mentioned that the last several puzzles are EXTREMELY difficult intentionally and that his goal was to have people get through them and either go "fuck you!" or be like oh my gd that was awesome.

[m1d-45]

i’m having shining nikki sagau thoughts everybody beware. so first of all like i remembered that elves canonically exist in miraland (idk if we ever mentioned this before) and there’s elves or at least elf-like creatures in teyvat…… i’m connecting the dots (<- they’re not connecting shit)

second of all. the new skins. “sailwind shadow” and “blossoming starlight” are SUCH designer’s reflection names like if i opened up shining nikki and saw those there they wouldn’t even be out of place. idk about everyone else but i think it would be cute if sailwind shadow was bandit. i have more to say but i need time to put my thoughts in Order - teddy anon

shining nikki!!

honestly despite red being in my head on and off, i didn’t even CONSIDER sailwind shadow and that is a tragedy. i have his skin but didn’t do the quest relating to it yet (it’s a costume he wears for a play right?) but the entire thing with this event. god he’s so perfect.

blossoming starlight is probably just klee but higher energy and less fear, and while i don’t doubt the power of klee dps i do doubt your conscience allowing you to bring a child into battle, double so after red split. she’s just. a little girl. so we move on.

sailwind shadow. i’ll choose to interpret him as a mix of the dagger bandit and kaeya himself, which makes for a fun little guy in my opinion. always trying to sneak you off to somewhere “more interesting than sitting around all day, no?” and thinks that the others are being far too uptight. does he understand the gravity of the hunt? absolutely. but whereas red (and the two archons) want to keep you safe in the cave you’ve made home, he’d much rather whisk you away down a path in the forest.

less for combat, i’d imagine, leaving that to nikki and the others. has quite a few stories to tell, most made up but some gathered from his weak memory. dislikes kaeya, but less so than red, surprisingly. he seems to view him as having no other choice, that he’s “already conflicted enough without that fake touting him about as their sword.” he views kaeya with more pity than anything else.

he and red have a.. strange relationship. at their cores, they are diluc and kaeya, but that affection is hidden beneath the several layers of trauma painted over. they both worry for the other in their own ways—he checks red for injuries from afar when you all regroup after a fight, and red makes sure to make chicken mushroom skewers when he’s having a bad day—but it’s still a tough trial. it’ll probably go quicker than diluc and kaeya, but you’ll have to wait a while before they connect properly.

in his early stages, he’s not all that dissimilar from red. clingy and always hesitant to leave, but does do more to try and keep your attention on him. he’s kaeya at his core and the costume is from a play, so he’s got quite a few tricks up his sleeve to prolong his stay.

(these tricks commonly include starting to tell you a story only to reveal that the ‘ancient artifact’ is one of fischl’s arrows, or red’s rings. your laughter is enough to keep him stealing them back—anything to be the source of that shine in your eyes.)

less prone to violence than red, and definitely safer to take out in public after everything’s over. at worst, he’ll make a passing comment, but is too worried about his image. what if you see him sneer, or if the other person sees and tells you? no no no, it’s far safer to just pull you away again, even if he has to lie as to why. you’ll understand if the crowds are getting to him, or if he feels trapped indoors, right? you were meant to be amongst nature anyway, so if anything he’s just doing you a favor, surely.

(he doesn’t often leave your side as you sleep, but he did see red in the middle of.. taking care of some things once. while he prefers to keep his hands clean—it’s awfully hard to lie to you, and he doesn’t think he could stay quiet if you asked—he doesn’t look down on red’s choice of problem solving. he recognizes the person beneath his boot anyway, hands slightly twitching at the memory from earlier today. when the two of them return to camp by morning, he lets red do most of the talking, only adding in the small half truth of “just having some fun” when prompted. he did his best to wipe his sword clean of any unsavory stains, but does keep it safely in it’s sheath whenever you’re around.)

however, just because he’s less violent than red doesn’t mean the source of said violence went away. he still gets jealous, and if he finds his theatrics don’t make you laugh as much as they used to, he‘ll begin to panic. are you growing bored with him? are his stories getting predictable? do you look down on him for running away with hunters with you instead of staying like the others do? he promises he’s not just dead weight! please, what does he have to do? do you want him to be more like barbatos? he can’t quite help you fly like he can, but he can try to pick up a bow! do you like red more? he’d really rather not get blood on his outfit, but anything for you. anything, anything at all… just keep your attention on him for a little longer. please?

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[doomdoomofdoom]

Screaming this one from the rooftops

man. People get so upset when you call things social constructs. Thinking that if you say something is a social construct that means it's fake and unnatural, and following that, that that means it’s bad. Something being a social construct means that it’s socially constructed. That’s it.

Money is a social construct. Weekends are a social construct. Vegetables are a social construct.

That doesn’t mean it’s okay if my paycheck is withheld or my rent is late. Doesn’t mean I don’t luxuriate in sleeping in on Saturday. Doesn’t mean the nutrients in tomatoes or spinach aren’t good for you.

What it means is that the way we think about things is socially constructed, and could be constructed a different way. Why do we base our society around money? What does value mean outside of money? What is “value”? The way we construct it isn’t the only possible way.

Why is a week a cycle of seven days, and five of those days are for working and two of those days are for resting? Could we organize our time differently? Should we? What would that look like? Other cultures don’t/didn’t have seven-day weeks with a five on-two off cycle. It’s not inevitable. It’s historically and culturally specific.

“Fruit” has a scientific definition but “vegetable” does not. Many parts of plants are culinarily defined as vegetables. Fruits (eggplant, avocado, tomato), stems (celery, asparagus), leaves (kale, lettuce), roots (carrots, potatoes, turnips)… all of these are culturally categorized as vegetables. And nutrition advice is based on this cultural categorization. Is a mushroom a vegetable? It’s not even a plant! Why do we categorize it this way? Why isn’t wheat or oats considered vegetables, but corn is, except when it isn’t? Could we categorize our plant-based food other ways?

Calling these social constructs doesn’t mean they’re bad or unimportant. It just calls attention to the fact that they aren’t inevitable. That they could be constructed in different ways, and that is worth thinking about, and thinking about the value we get in constructing things the way we do.

Gender is a social construct.

Romance is a social construct.

They are based on feelings, desires, and experiences, but how we name and categorize and express and act on them are fully culturally constructed. Other cultures do and have constructed these concepts in other ways. You can like the way we do it now. You can find it stifling. But the way we do it now is not the only, inevitable, inherent, real way. It could be done other ways, organized and categorized and conceptualized in other ways. And that’s not a bad thing either.

[go-fornicate-yourself]

Every day I am in the trenches fighting for my life defending this poor man. He was going through so much and people online demonize him and say he's as bad as his abuser

(I've got a lot of thoughts about this so I'll make sure to separate things to make it easier to look at lol)

Curly is a victim of abuse. Jimmy is his abuser. This is something that I feel a lot of people tend to brush over or don't acknowledge it often.

And I'm not just talking about post-crash. Jimmy's abuse of Curly is there pre-crash too. The party scene where the crew learns about the company going under is a huge example of this. Jimmy verbally abuses him, he gaslights him, he blames him for their (his) misfortune. Jimmy accuses Curly of thinking he's better than everyone (better than him), that he doesn't care about them (about him). That he's going leave them (leave him). Which is not true. Curly tries to explain himself but Jimmy shuts him down and he just takes it.

The fact that he just allows this to happen makes it seem like he's used to this... That this kind of behavior is a recurring thing with Jimmy. And the fact that nobody else tries to defend him or stands up to Jimmy just normalizes it for him. When Anya tells Curly what Jimmy did it catches him off guard. Bc he genuinely didn't think that his friend was capable of that. It wasn't something that was obvious to him. There were absolutely many red flags in the past but they were subtle enough for him to not see them bc he cares for Jimmy, he trusts him. Jimmy's the only one he feels he can open up to, who he can let his guard down with. Jimmy's his home. That's how close they are.

Because of this deep love for his friend and the subtlety of Jimmy's cruelty, he doesn't see the constant verbal and emotional abuse as what it is: abuse. Which is why he finds Jimmy's abuse towards Anya so shocking and jarring.

He isn't a man covering for his rapist friend bc of the 'bro code'. It does look like that from a certain angle and it's understandable why people see it that way but that's not what his character is really about as much as it makes sense otherwise.

He's essentially a battered housewife who's still in love with her husband but is realizing for the first time that the man she loves is a monster. That the man she loves and devoted her life to has been hurting her this whole time and she didn't even realize it. That the man she loves and spent so much of her life caring for has gone and hurt someone else. That he's most likely hurt others before and she's been utterly unaware of it the entire time she defended him and made excuses for him when he wasn't the best or the fairest or the most responsible or when he screwed up yet again solely bc of how much she loved and cared for him.

And Curly barely had any time to process ANY of that before Jimmy decided to try and kill them all to avoid the consequences of his actions. It was ultimately a selfish act even if he thought he wasn't just doing it for himself. Jimmy is selfish and needs to be in control or he loses it. He cares for Curly. He loves him. Curly's done so much for him. Curly's the only one who understands him, who doesn't hate him. Curly's his home. He resents how 'successful' he is but that's only bc he thinks so highly of him. He constantly puts himself down and put Curly on a pedestal and worships him while simultaneously mistreating him.

He treats his best friend like shit, he's awful to him. But he's not aware that this is the case or maybe he's in denial about it. He can't or just refuses to see how he's doing all of what he does for himself in the end. He justifies his attempt to kill them all (to himself and to Curly) by claiming he's doing this for them both. That if they were to get back to earth it would all be Curly's fault, that it'll ruin his life and career... despite the fact he had basically nothing to do with Anya's abuse. Jimmy's shifting the blame on him while acting like he cares for him. Well, he does genuinely care for him but clearly not nearly enough to not mistreat him or use him as a scapegoat for his own guilt.

Jimmy is the rapist, Jimmy is the one who does all of these horrible things. And yet it's highly likely that Curly would just blame all of it on himself bc that's exactly what Jimmy did to him. He's in so deep he can't see the facts of the situation.

It takes abuse victims so long to come to terms with their abuse. It takes time and reflection to see things with an unbiased and healthy perspective. Abuse (especially years of it) isn't just something you can just escape. It consumes you and can twist your reality. Curly had about a week or less to process all of it and then take action in a way that protected his crew and abided by Pony Express' guidelines. Dealing with something this serious in a setting that makes resolving it extremely difficult in a practical sense is already hard.

There were no locks on any of the doors except for medical and the cockpit. They couldn't just kill him. There was nowhere they could detain Jimmy that wouldn't involve corporate potentially penalizing the entire group. They could have used the cryopods but then there'd only be three available for any actual emergency and there were already five crew members and four pods in total. Also, I doubt corporate would be 'okay' with them using the cryopods for anything other than their intended purpose. Hell, even if they were able to make it back to earth without any incidents there's a good chance that corporate would consider the situation 'poor team synergy' and collectively punish the entire crew for Jimmy's actions.

So on top of having to deal with an already difficult situation, Curly has to grapple with the realization that Jimmy a: abused Anya, b: has been abusing him as well (for a very long time too), and c: has probably abused others before Anya and he had no idea about it. He needed to act but he didn't and it doomed all of them.

But it's so unrealistic (maybe even cruel) to put that much pressure on someone, force them through an utterly earth-shattering realization, and then expect them to do the correct/right/responsible thing in that moment. It's a little ironic how people vilify him for that when other characters do the same thing that nobody blames for it.

Anya is the ship's nurse. Curly is the ship's captain. They both have duties and responsibilities on board the Tulpar. She has to keep the crew healthy and safe and is the only one with enough medical knowledge to do so. He has to make sure that everything goes well and goes according to procedure. He's responsible for the crew, the cargo, and even the ship itself. Both positions are integral and require a lot of responsibility to do properly

They're both put through distressing and traumatic situations where due to them being human people with emotions and fears that make them essentially avoid their responsibility/doing what's required of them.

Curly has a freeze response and doesn't act when he should have when it was crucial to have done so. Anya has a fawn response and essentially puts her patient in danger and harm's way. She knew full well what Jimmy was capable of. She experienced it herself and she witnessed it happening to Curly as well. And yet she allows Jimmy to be alone with Curly while being fully aware of how dangerous he is. Which she shouldn't have, that wasn't the 'right' thing to do. Keeping him safe was her responsibility.

But Anya's human. She's going through a lot at the moment. She's terrified of Jimmy and she's trying to appease him so he doesn't hurt her again. It's a natural very understandable thing to do even if it's not the 'right' or 'responsible' thing. They failed each other when they needed each other most and I think that's the most tragic part of it. If anything, all of them failed each other in some way, shape, or form.

So it's incredibly frustrating to see people give Anya so much sympathy and grace for doing something so human yet still 'wrong' but then turn around and give Curly none of that for doing essentially the same thing she does.

I don't know for sure if it's actually because Curly is a man or if it's only part of it or maybe some people just lack that sense of awareness but it's depressing and frustrating as fuck as a male victim of sexual violence and abuse to see this kind of behavior and this much victim blaming towards a character who is undeniably a victim of abuse like I am.

[rosiereveries]

Retired!JohnPrice, who, after retiring, bought a cabin in a small town where everyone knew everyone. He was a stranger, and people talked about him all the time. They wanted to know where he was from, why he came to their town, and what he wanted. He didn’t have a lot to do in his free time. He restored the cabin he stayed in; the roof was leaking, he needed to buy new kitchen supplies, and the attic needed good cleaning. The previous owner left all their stuff there. John came to the conclusion that the previous owner loved to read. There were books everywhere. The old bedroom had one huge bookshelf filled with romance books. Until now, he didn’t even know that there were so many books with hot men on the cover. He felt sorry to just throw them away; the books were in good shape, and they could make someone very happy.

That was how he found you. After searching the town for a charity shop or something, he found a library where you worked. You greeted him with a smile, and he was enchanted. He explained to you that he would like to donate books to the library and asked if you could help him with the process. You agreed that after work, you would visit him and make a list of the books he had. When you arrived at his cabin, he told you that he had made dinner, and he would love if you could join him. It had been a while since someone had cooked for you, so you accepted his offer. After dinner, you went through the books in his bedroom. You blushed the whole time, looking up the titles of the books, and John didn’t make your job easier. He read aloud some parts of the books, each scene steamier than the previous. After you were done, he drove you home. He didn’t want a pretty girl like you to go home in the dark. He knew that the town was safe, but he needed to be sure that you got home okay. John promised that he would bring the books to the library tomorrow and help you with them. The whole evening, he tried to get your number so he could ask you out, and now he had the perfect chance for it. He said that he needed it to call you tomorrow when he would come. On the drive back home, he thought about how enchanting it was to meet you.

You felt the same. You had butterflies in your stomach since the moment he walked through the library door. The same old tired, lonely place vanished when you saw his face. You felt like a schoolgirl having a crush on the older boys, but now you felt like he might have a crush on you too. You were blushing the whole way home, hoping that he would ask you out. You eagerly awaited the whole morning for when he would text you that he was on the way. After lunch, you started to lose hope that he would show up. He told you that he would come before your lunch break so that he could take you out for lunch. You felt stupid; you didn’t ask for his number, and now you had no way to contact him. Yes, you could go to his house, but you were not that desperate, and it would be weird if you just showed up. You tried to distract yourself with work, but it didn’t stop your wandering thoughts. What if he had someone, and you were too flirty, and now, he didn’t want to talk to you? Maybe he was just a friendly neighbor who wanted to do something nice for the community. Maybe you just imagined the spark that was between you and him. You hoped that this was the very first page and not where the storyline ended.

Just before closing time, you heard the bell above the door, and you wondered who could come this late. It was John, who immediately started to apologize. He said that his bathroom pipes had broken, and the water flooded the entire bathroom. He had to get it fixed quickly, and it was so much work that he didn’t have time to come up and see you. At first, you didn’t believe him, but after he came closer, you could see that his hands were dirty, and his pants still had some water stains. You invited him to your place, and he drove you there, still trying to apologize. He said that he would make it up to you, take you on a proper date, buy you flowers, and take you somewhere romantic where you could have your first date. When you arrived at your place, you cooked dinner for both of you. He spent the evening with you, asking so many questions about your job, your life, and other things. John insisted on leaving just before midnight. You walked him out to his car, and when he thanked you for the dinner, you kissed him. He was too much of a gentleman to kiss a girl on the very first night, so you had to take control into your own hands. After the kiss, it didn’t take much to convince him to come back to your house and eventually to your bed.

Masterlist

[pressureplus]

Sebastian Solace Kissing Headcannons

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

• No, he does not taste like fish, Yes I know you've giggled about that at least once so I may as well knock it out of the way

• Considering he's been confirmed to smoke and it's safe to say he eats from the vending machines pretty consistently, he usually tastes like cigarettes and chips

• Occasionally, he may taste like other snack foods, namely: Chocolate, Peanuts, Hard Candy, and those weird prepackaged vanilla cookies

• At first he didn't want to kiss you at all, even when you two got your confessions out

• His mouth is so inhuman and sharp, with rows of shark-like teeth... It made him really nervous about kissing you for a long time

• What if seeing it up close made you not like him very much anymore? What if it just doesn't feel right to you? He'd rather avoid making you uncomfortable like that

• There's only so much defensive sarcasm and passive aggression can do for you, and it isn't gonna fix heartbreak

• Makes fun of you for even wanting to kiss him, have you SEEN him??

• Will accuse you of having a thing for fish 💀

• You're going to have to kiss him first, he isn't gonna pop that safety bubble himself

• That first time, his whole body locks up, breath held for the long moment it takes for him to process what's actually happening

• He relaxes slowly into actually kissing back, that familiar wall coming down

• After this, he'll start initiating them

• At first it's these stiff little pecks on the cheek and corner of your mouth, but he quickly gets a taste for you

• When he starts kissing you directly, he gets hungry for it, starting to sneak them in any time he can find

• The kisses get longer and slower and easier for him, humming into every one of them so affectionately

• He's needed the touch for years, so naturally he's going to have his hands on you the whole time. Yes, all three of them.

• Likes to pick you up, means you can't get away when he goes to tease you about wanting to kiss such a scary thing like him

• Absolutely gives you little snake kisses, his tongue flicks out at you a lot when he's giving you smaller kisses

• That mean ass mouth doesn't get any nicer, but at least you get kisses for putting up with it

• He's going to nip and nibble at you too, overall getting really comfortable with the mouth affection

• He does this all the time, too, and most enjoys bothering you while you're trying to work by sneaking up and biting your neck

• Seriously tho, how is he so quiet?? He's huge???

• Oops, hickeys! He's too pleased with leaving marks not to ❤️

[emiliaoleary]

Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook.  There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way.  The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use.  I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines. 

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran.  If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it.  I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted).  I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.  

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be. 

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

​ It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

[erwinsvow]

hii shea idk if someone has already made this type of request if that's the case please ignore me but i can't stop thinking about shy!reader absolutely cock drunk asking for the first time rafe to fuck her raw and the question caught him so off guard that he felt feral and dizzy, his composure slipping away just wanting to please his sweet girl<3

hi baby omg no i don't have any reqs like this here it is hope i did it justice <33

rafe was teasing you today.

after more than an hour of back and forth at whatever party you two had gone to for the evening—and only because rafe wanted to sell and your friends had already promised they'd be there—you were more than ready to go home.

except rafe hadn't taken you home yet. instead you'd been all around the house—on rafe's lap in the living room to start. leaning in to your boyfriend's ear, you know he can tell how desperate you're getting.

you don't do well with denial anymore—rafe had spoiled you too much for that.

"can't we go now?" the words are whispered to rafe, and you rest your head on his shoulder, blinking up at him while you wait for a response. one of his hands leaves the armstand of the sofa and grips your exposed thigh, skirt riding up a little too much.

"it's early. hold out a little longer. can you do that for me?"

you think your eyes are going to roll all the way back. the answer is yes, of course, you can do that for him. you would do anything for him. you just don't want.

following that, you accompanied rafe to the other side of the house where a whole swarm of people were chasing their next high. though you should really stand next to him, you just can't find it in you today, instead staying his back, peering out every now and then like shy children do.

it's all worth it, because moments later rafe takes you upstairs, murmuring something about how you're being a good girl for holding out. there's an empty bedroom that you think is the perfect place to spend the next hour.

rafe's talking to you—though you're so deliriously horny you can't really hear him. you nod and stare up, agreeing to whatever your boyfriend wants to do, just wishing he would hurry up and do something already, when the door opens.

you're not naked, though if they had barged in a few minutes later, you might have been. and normally you think your face would be burning, that you might die of embarrassment at someone catching you like this.

instead you're just mad.

it's the owner of the house—which makes sense, since your boyfriend has brought you up to the master. he's got a girl of his own on his arm, and you grind your teeth getting up with rafe, furious and impatient now.

"at least knock next time!" you yell when you shuffle through, ignoring splutters of it's my house!

you think rafe is going to ask you what you want to do next—but he doesn't. your boyfriend, like always, knows what you need before you can even know it sometimes. you follow rafe back to his truck, ready for, at the very least, some peace and quiet.

when you finally get up to rafe's room, the buzz of the party is wearing off a bit. your feet hurt from your heels and you can't believe you yelled at someone. lost in your own thoughts, you don't even process rafe sitting down next to you, until he takes your feet into his lap, undoing the strap of your shoes for you.

it's instant—one touch from him is enough to set your skin on fire.

"oh," you say, at the sudden realization you might finally be getting what you want. you stare at where rafe is holding your ankle in place, shoes on the ground now. "thank you."

"s'nothing, kid. get on the bed." eagerly, you comply.

in the vain hope that rafe was as impatient as you are—you thought he would just fuck you already. but it seems not, with the slow way he kisses up and down your neck, down to your tits and your stomach.

you find it a lot easier to ask him for things now—a new dress, dessert, money for your nails—but it seems impossible to ask him for this, so you opt for enjoying it and staying silent.

but even then—rafe always knows when something is wrong. you're practically vibrating from anticipation—you had wanted your boyfriend to fuck you hours ago on that stupid couch from that stupid house. it seems your body was only now realize how long you'd been clenching your thighs, biting your cheek and ignoring the tense knot in your stomach.

a few touches from rafe was enough to have you practically melting—staring up and still not saying anything.

"y'okay, kid?" he asks, and you really don't know how to answer. "s'okay. you're getting what you want."

you can do this. you're patient—you've always been patient.

"can you-please, just-" alright, maybe not. "can you please just fuck me raw, please, please, just fuck me-"

of course, rafe's not stupid. he could tell you've been on edge all night, he just hadn't known why. he stares down at you, all flushed, hot skin and heavy breaths, looking up at him. he knows whatever reaction he gives you will stay on your mind, and though he can try as hard as he wants, you are impossible to say no to.

"jesus. s'that really what you want?" you nod eagerly. "can't regret this later, baby. once we do that, it's-it's serious. what if i knock you up, huh?"

rafe watches you take in the words, facing twisting in understand.

"please knock me up."

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

You know that feeling when you want to make a good impression and eveything you do feels low-key humiliating

Or when you're just perpetually mortified about every word that leaves your mouth by default regardless of what's happening or who you're talking to like I am—

ANYWAY HERE'S SOME HEADCANONS ABOUT THE BOYS BEING EMBARASSED OR SOMETHING—

Oooh Nooooo

Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy x Reader

Needless pointless fluff with the tiniest bit of hurt-comfort or something

Live-action or anime/manga canon, either or both

I don't think there are any TWs?

Sorry for wasting all of our time with this silliness

Anyway here's some Nu.

Zoro

He just pushes himself much too hard sometimes.

Sitting down and "taking a nap" after training, when he's clearly well beyond his limit.

Or rather "passing out from utter exhaustion with his swords unsheathed across his lap."

It could have ended a lot worse than a rogue wave washing across the deck and a gash on his arm.

Grumbling about how he's fine and doesn't need any help the whole time you're wrapping bandages around his arm and chiding him.

Going silent and tense for a moment when you wrap him in a tight hug and softly ask him to be more careful.

No, he's not blushing, he's never blushed in his entire life, shut up

Hugging you back? What are you talking about?

Gives a little growl of annoyance, refusing to let you go for longer than he's willing to admit, and will probably say it was for your benefit if anyone asks.

Sanji

The old *whoops* with the pepper shaker.

It had already been a long day, he was just trying to wind down in the kitchen.

Trying to season a very simple, very straightforward sauce.

And the entire lid falls off of the pepper shaker, and into the pot, along with a massive pile of ground black pepper.

And he just lets out a groan of defeat, dropping to his knees and letting his forehead fall against the edge of the stove with a weak little thunk.

But no no no, you're already hurrying over to help scoop out the excess pepper, reassuring him that it'll definitely be fine.

Your rush to assist him is enough to make him smile in itself, to let out a small affectionate chuckle as he watches you grimace at the taste the ruined sauce, before you meet his eye and try to fake a smile.

Decides to repurpose the sauce in question, to get back at the idiots that loosened the pepper shaker lid in the first place.

The two of you are left snickering to yourselves while the rest of the crew fights over the nearest jug of fresh water after tasting it themselves.

Shanks

Man could probably drop a knife and sever three of his toes and still manage to laugh it off, what is "embarrassment...?"

Well, it's a little more subtle.

It's having to relearn how to use both a sword and a pen after losing half of his dominant arm.

It's laughing off how his handwriting looks like a child's now.

It's getting mildly annoyed at trying to button a shirt one-handed and simply tucking it into his belt instead.

It's refusing help with simple tasks that could be made far simpler if the stubborn idiot would just let you help already—

It's hearing him chuckle and agree when you call him a stubborn idiot for refusing any help, settling his hand in your hair and pulling you close.

The whole process is embarrassing in itself, but he's got you, and he's got his crew, and that makes it all so much easier.

Mihawk

What on earth could he possibly have to be embarrassed about?

World's Greatest Swordsman, one of the seven Warlords, with a sense of wit as devastating as his blade.

And yet, despite all his efforts to hide it, he's just a big softie.

As if it wasn't already evident from how he allowed Zoro to live after challenging him and subsequently trained him, with the convenient excuse of wanting a worthy rival.

He's going to glare at you with a sharpness that could slice clean through diamond if you suggest out loud that he did any of it out of kindness, much less fondness.

But he's also going to sigh in an irritable sort of defeat when you kiss his cheek and compliment him for finding such a perfect balance between mercy and murder.

And mumble just as irritably about how you're lucky he finds you endearing enough to keep around, begrudgingly proving your point without even realizing it.

Buggy

Lives in a perpetual state of embarrassment that he tries to mask with haughtiness and aggression.

It mostly revolves around the elephant in the room.

The very red, very round elephant in the room, attached to the very center of his face.

The one he might just slaughter anyone for mentioning in front of him.

Who nose what that could possibly be *wink-wink*nudge-nudge**stupidest-pun*

But the second you plant a kiss there and say how cute it is, in a way that makes it clear you're not condescending or taunting him about it, he's too busy blushing and sputtering over his words to remember what he was supposed to be angry about in the first place.

[planetpedri]

I loved the new Jobe fic you wrote it’s very nice! I was wondering if I could request a Jude one….if not you could write it for Jobe I don’t mind. One where you’re in a secret relationship and you end up being in the same place as him and his family. You both just staring at each other. Maybe you work somewhere or something else. But you can’t let anyone know you both know each other or that you’re together. So it’s just to sad and heartbreaking. Later you guys have a call or meet and it’s just breaking you both down but it’s still not a good idea to go public because of the public and their reactions. If you can and want to id love to read something similar. Thanks a lot

Ripples — Jude Bellingham.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having a famous boyfriend wasn’t easy, what wasn’t making it any easier, was how adored he was by fans. Any spark of dating rumors sent them spiraling, and Jude never wanted you to be subjected to that. You’d hit your breaking point when you had to seat him and his family at a table, and all the while, pretend as if you didn’t know him.

Word count: 1k+

Disclaimer/s: Angst with resolve + hopeful ending.

A/N: I hope I did this justice.. idk

Tightening the waist apron around you, you make your way to the front. It was shift change, and you were now taking over for your coworker. She handed you the notepad and pen, wishing you a quick, ‘good luck’ before leaving.

You let out a loud sigh, making your way to the front as there was certainly customers waiting. It was noon after all.

You’re too busy making sure everything was in your apron pockets to notice the family of four at the front. “Hello, I’m—“ You look up, breath hitching in your throat. You stutter out your name, swallowing thickly to calm your nerves, “and I will be your waitress today. Please, follow me.”

Your boyfriend and his parents, along with his younger brother Jobe, did just that. Jude seemed to be the only one who noticed your reaction, his heart thumped in his chest the second he saw your face. You’d stiffened instantly, tension clear in the way you held yourself.

Taking them to a booth, your eyes flicker to Jude’s. You watch him sit down, sending you a quick smile. Nothing significant, he’d do it even if you were just another worker.

You set out the menu’s, forcing a smile onto your face. “Can I start you off with drinks?” You ask, taking out the note pad and pen.

Denise started off with the ordering, and when it came to Jude.. well! You couldn’t even look at him. He was watching you though, trying to hide the upset in his voice as he spoke. Of course you noticed, you’d heard that tone multiple times.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” You nod, hastily making your way to the back.

The first thing you do, is hand the notepad to a co worker. “I’m not feeling well, could you take over my table?” She had nodded, concerned, but didn’t press further.

The rest of your shift went smoothly. You had unsuccessfully avoided the Bellingham’s table completely, somehow always in sight of your boyfriend. He stole glances your way, and the few times you caught them, you immediately looked away. That same thing went back and forth for the whole hour his family had dined there.

The second your shift ended, the grey cloud that had followed you around the whole day, somewhat lifted. You’d finally started to chill out when you got back in your car and drove home.

Jude had texted you multiple times, but you’d ignored them until you got into your apartment. Collapsing on your bed, you shoot him a quick text, asking him to come over.

Within seconds he replied, ‘already on my way’ and that was that. You had to impatiently wait to see your boyfriend in the safety of your apartment. No cameras to see you, no fans, no family.

The few soft knocks on the front door tells you Jude had arrived. A swarm of nerves hit you like bullets as you made your way to the entrance. You unlock it, pulling it open in the process. You’re immediately met with a half-smiling Jude. Half as in it didn’t seem to reach his eyes, which you knew meant you were in for a talk.

“Hey.” You say, opening the door wider to let him in before shutting it behind him.

Jude makes his way toward your couch, plopping down before replying. “We should talk. About today.” He adds the last part as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Yeah.” You nod, sitting down a few feet away from him. “Why would you willingly bring your family to that restaurant? You knew I worked there!” Your voice was raising slightly out of frustration, which you immediately tried to stop. It was no use to get angry about this.

Jude straightens, his eyebrows pulling together. “It wasn’t my choice? My parents wanted to go, so we went. And I tried to give you a heads up, but you weren’t answering.”

“Yeah, well, I was working.” You chuckle humorlessly. “It’s fine, though. I just hate having to hide like this. Do you know how upsetting that was for me? To see you with your family and for them to not even know who I am?”

Jude nods in understanding, his lips pulling into a frown. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t like this, but the fans—“

“I’m a grown woman, I can handle it! I’d rather be harassed online than have to duck and hide every time we’re in the same vicinity.” Desperation clings onto your voice, your eyes softening as they dart up to meet your boyfriends.

He plays with the couch cushion mindlessly and chews on his bottom lip. “What if.. we compromise?”

This peaked your interest, your eyebrows lifting slightly. “How?”

“You meet my family and a few of my friends, but we keep it private still? And if it ends up getting out… it gets out.” It was a half assed attempt at fixing things. He couldn’t lose you, but he also couldn’t bear to think about how the public would react, which would inevitably lead to you getting hurt. And if he had to choose, Jude would rather lose you than you getting hurt in that way. “Plus, not being able to talk about you to my family is killing me.”

Half way was better than no way, so you sigh. “Fine. I can deal with that.” Scooting closer to your boyfriend, he meets you half way, using his long arms to pull you into his side. The last part of what he said suddenly clicked, a smile making its way onto your face, but you don’t say anything about it.

You two lay like that silently for a few moments, Jude’s hand coming up to play with the ends of your hair. “Y’know… my mum gave me that look at the restaurant when you walked away. I think she may have a hint of whats going on.”

Chuckling into your boyfriend’s chest, you smile. “And here I thought we were always so subtle.”

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Leave a comment if you’d like to be tagged in any future posts whether it’s specific or all <3

DTS , @halfwayhearted + @spidybaby !

[vee-goggles]

I have been working on this project for a week now, here are some screenshots of the game. Details below.

Also, I'm trying to find a suitable name for the game, if you have any suggestions please let me know!

My current plan for the game is to make it a friendship simulation that is played through events rather than linearly. Each character will have their own favorability progress and events.

It will take a long time to complete the game. As I mentioned before: the game programming, painting, and story are all done by me.

Some questions：

[ 1 ] : Why are the figures so poorly drawn and why is there no background?

The story and the painting are in progress at the same time. The characters and backgrounds you see are placeholders I used to quickly show the effect in the story. This makes it easier for me to advance the script.

[ 2 ] : Why are these screenshots so different from the visuals?

In the future, these UIs will be changed again, but I think the current general style looks neat and easy to read. Of course, you can always give me better suggestions.

[ 3 ] : Will the final release be in English?

Yes, I will be looking for a translator when the whole game is finished. English will definitely be available as a option in the final release.

[ 4 ] : Is this game related to another TF2 dating simulation game that is in production?

No, After I started making it, I just found out there was another project in the process. There is no relationship between the two.

[ 5 ] : Will you open partron or ko-fi for support?

No, absolutely not. At least not during the development of the game. I'm very excited to make this game, and I don't want to feel pressured by it. I made this game purely out of love for TF2 and I have 100% control over it. You can support this game by making suggestions for story scripts, which is why I publish the progress online.

Questions from askbox:

[ 1 ] :

Creating a route for each of the nine people is already a huge project. Sorry, but there won’t be multiple endings per merc.

/////

(I'm sure there are a lot of questions I've missed. You can always come to my askbox to ask me more questions about the game (anon is on). I will answer them every time I release the development progress.)

Anyone with suggestions for art, story or gameplay is welcome. I'd love to hear anything.

The above text is translated by Google Translate. If there is any inappropriate remarks, please contact me.

[tremendouscreationperson]

A few of you wanted a part three so here goes

Reader gets called Doll and Toots but other than that I think it's pretty GN

Part 1 Part 2

Ford - no Stan - had spun his tale. You weren't sure any of it could be possible. How was you supposed to believe that Ford was alive but not in this universe/realm/reality?

You sat in the lab he had brought you to - it was cold and dank, stark lights illuminated metal plates and cascaded up the walls to show off a large triangular 'portal'.

"Why'd you have to die?" You asked, eyes glued to the journal upon your knees.

For-Stan had been waiting for any questions, willing to provide you answers. "Seemed easier."

"And lying to me?" You flicked through the stained pages. "That was easy?"

"It wasn't." He told you honestly, just hearing his voice was crazy. You had believed he was dead for two years and he wasn't! He was here the whole time. "Gotta admit, I had you fooled."

The attempt at a joke was not humourous in the slightest. "This isn't normal behaviour."

Stanley didn't know what else to do. He hadn't thought you would ever realise, perhaps that was stupid on his part but he really thought he was able to coexist with you as Ford.

"So..." You took a deep breath. "Recap: this is Ford's journal and he wanted you to take it away and you both argued and he got sucked into that thing and now you're him and Stan is dead and you're trying to get him back?"

Stan nodded, twiddling his thumbs. "Yeah. It's been hard, I had to relearn math."

"Who else wrote in here?"

"Huh?"

You pointed at the page. "That's not Ford's handwriting. Although look, 'ford' signed it." A humourless chuckle escaped. "Who else is pretending to be your brother?"

Stan was at your side in an instant, looking over your shoulder. Being so close to him was maddening.

He was alive.

Your Stan was alive.

Yeah, maybe he was a fraud and there was weird space mumbo jumbo that you still don't entirely believe but he was alive.

Your face was turned towards him as he studied the page, his fingers grazing yours underneath the words. How did he look like him now?

You didn't see Ford in him at all.

The way he stood, his neutral expression, even his hair was different. Was Stanley.

"I didn't notice that." He spoke lowly due to the proximity.

"Is there anyone else in the town called Ford?"

Stan's gaze landed on you, his nose inches from yours and he opened his mouth to speak before closing it and just observing you. He really took you in.

Despite the lies you were still here. Still entertaining this. He really wished he had more to offer you but he didn't.

He was just him. He wasn't his brilliant brother or full of mysteries or answers. He was just Stan, a con artist who scammed people daily.

"I don't know." The words finally left his mouth and he quickly stood upright.

~~

Rather than leaving tonight, you had stayed longer because of the news, calling in sick at work, how often could you say someone had come back from the dead?

The two of you ate half the pasta you made, sitting awkwardly opposite each other at the table.

He had been open and honest, answering all of your questions keenly and encouraging you to ask more. And you had to admit that was nice but the news still sat heavily on your shoulders.

Mostly because: FUCKING HELL THIS WAS CRAZY and a slither of: you had told FORD THAT YOU LOVED STANLEY AND BROUGHT HIM UP IN MANY CONVERSATIONS AND HE WAS THE ONE YOU WERE TALKING TO AND YOY WERE EMBARRASSED AS FUCK BUT YOU NEEDED TO HELP AND HDJAKSIEIES

"You, er.. you okay?" Stan toyed with a meatball.

"It's just a lot to process." That wasn't a lie. "I'll probably be like this for a few days."

He gave you a sincere smile, "take your time, do-"

Your eyes snapped up to his pink face. "Were you going to call me doll?" He nodded in affirmative, his ears reddening as well. You weren't sure why but you spared him with: "Hmm, better than toots."

"That was one time!" He insisted.

"That's all it took."

"I only said it to piss you off." He smirked cheekily, his face returning to its usual hue.

"It worked." Rolling your eyes as you giggled. You didn't hold any real malice, he was being cocky demonstrating his pick up moves and they did not work... Well they did but it was easier to pass off your hot face and wide eyes as anger rather than awe.

Stan laughed along with you, enjoying the sound. Loving how easy it was to just be himself. He didn't have to wear the gloves which made everything impossible, he didn't have to act stiff and drop big words into his 'lexicon', and he didn't have to lie. He could be himself.

He knows he doesn't deserve this, by God he knows that, but he would take all you'd willingly give; if that was just dinner before you drove away forever then he would take it and be thankful for the time.

"Want a beer?" He found himself asking.

You didn't reply straight away, ideas tumbling around your head. He loved watching your mind work. "Got anything stronger?"

Stan winked and disappeared to get the whiskey he'd stashed away.

And so the two of you found yourselves sitting on his 'balcony' (a little ledge, that you had to climb through a window to access, underneath the 'mystery shack' sign) forgoing glasses and passing the bottle between you.

"Must feel good to tell someone." Your words slurred as you laid on your spine, staring at the stars beyond the trees.

"It does." He took a sip. "Feel bad that it was you though."

You swivelled your neck to give him a confused face. He bellowed out a laugh. "Oit, don't laugh at me." Your socked toe jabbed his thigh.

Stan placed a hand over your foot, just holding it, forcing your hips to manoeuvre into a more comfortable position. You faced him as he watched the treeline. "Sorry to drag you into this."

"Sorry I didn't notice sooner." How didn't you? He was clearly Stan. There was nothing here that said Ford. "You're so obviously my Stan." You rolled your eyes and folded your arms in annoyance at yourself.

Stan's brows shot up and he turned to catch you grumbling at yourself. "Your Stan?"

Your eyebrows met and you scrunched your face in confusion again. "What?"

"You said 'my Stan'." His lips began to lift into the smuggest smirk as he leaned forward, entering your bubble. "I didn't realise I was your Stan."

"Shut up." You playfully pushed him away. "We're drunk, you don't know what you heard."

Stan didn't let up, instead he found your hand and intertwined your fingers. "I kinda like being someone's Stan." He spoke with a half shrug.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was this a dream fueled by your longing and whiskey? "Well, you know how I feel because you were spying on me! Pretending to be Ford to hear what I had to say about you!"

"Hey, I told you Stan liked you too!" He defended.

"Do-" You paused. When did the two of you get so close? You were nose to nose. "Does Stan still feel that w-"

You weren't given a chance to finish the question because his lips were on yours. He kissed you slowly, one palm on your cheek as the other wound around your spine, pulling you in close. Your hands were pinned against his chest as you kissed him back enthusiastically.

Stan's slow kisses morphed into an intense make out session as he ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you gave him access. His hands exploring all over your body, squeezing and caressing your sides and chest causing your spine to curve.

The two of you were buzzing and the kiss was a little sloppy but it was perfect. You wouldn't want it any other way.

He finally allowed the two of you a breather, kissing his way down your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive flesh. You squirmed again, back arching as a whispered moan tumbled from you.

That sobered him up, Stan raised his head from your neck, looking down at you and saw the needy look in your eyes. "Maybe we should wait 'til we're not blitzed."

The automatic frown you wore had him chuckling as you pulled his face back to yours, kissing him with as much vigour as you could muster.

Stan bit your bottom lip and his fingers settled on your thighs, how he managed to find himself in between them he didn't know but you pulled him closer with your legs and he had to pinch himself.

This was real.

All the shit he had done.

Every scam, every fraud, every crime, everything.

And you still looked at him with those eyes.

Fuck.

Maybe he loved you.

.

.

.

@aratheegreat @ngs991-2 @seahorrorz @misty-eyed-memory @50shadesofwinchesters @ryoiii @viceroywrites @atseoks @countlessimagines @aweleyirene @hesthermay @darlingdia1007 @piningforstan @emmygirl33 @imafangirlofeverything @daniel-meyer-03

.

.

I work in a DIY shop and this is what I had to look at for the majority of my shift 😂😭 he haunts me

[drfleetflower]

The Arrangement

~Requested~

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Summary: Behind your back, your parents arranged for you to marry the President of Panem: Coriolanus Snow. You have mixed feelings and as the wedding continues, your feelings get even more mixed up.

Warnings: Angst, light fluff, arranged marriage, puking, allusion to intimacy, slight mention of drinking kind of

There will be a part 2!

WC: 2.3k

As the President of Panem, Coriolanus Snow was expected to have the best. The best housing, the best clothing, the best display of wealth and power, and more recently… He was expected to have the best wife. The idea irritated and concerned him, his mind swimming with memories of his failed relationship with Lucy Gray. He couldn’t- no he wouldn’t let himself be fooled again by a pretty face and an enchanting voice. He wasn’t going to tempt himself to fall into the vulnerable and aching embrace of love. But, of course, he couldn’t marry someone completely unappealing either. They would be a public representation of himself and a status symbol. It would be a difficult decision.

- - -

“This is an honor.” Your mother tells you in a soft voice. She tucks some of your loose hair behind your ear and you look down at the letter in your hands. 

“I know.” Is all you can respond with. You do know, but that doesn’t make the news any easier to swallow. Behind your back, your parents arranged for you to marry the president? You hadn’t really thought about marriage, and now you were expected to get hitched to Coriolanus Snow? Not only was he the president, but his family had a long line of power and success. The name Snow was a legacy of greatness, and it would soon be your name. 

It was presented as a choice, but you knew rejecting the proposal would be the wrong one. Your parents were successful, sure, but being the first lady would raise your family up higher than you could imagine. You couldn’t help but wonder why he picked you. 

Your mom waits, more impatient than not. You can tell by the way her knee shakes lightly and her eyes watch your face intently. “I’ll do it, mom.” You finally answer, a slight snip in your voice as you feel rushed to say that. It’s not like anything could change your answer, though. You didn’t need time to think, just time to process. 

Your mother quickly nods in response and, noticing your hostility, leaves just as quick. Likely to bring the good news to your father. You stay right where you are, mulling over this absurd idea. You were convinced as soon as you met Snow, he would laugh in your face, the whole thing a big joke. Or worse, he’d change his mind. How wrong you were…

---

You stepped out of the slick black car sweating, but it wasn’t the heat from the sun turning the car into an oven, the car had air conditioning. What else could you expect from a car the President of Panem owned? It was your nerves. And they got in the way of a lot of things. Impairing your judgment, slowing your movements and making them uncoordinated, you even tended to have trouble speaking properly. Anyone would think you were drunk. 

The driver, an Avox, helped you up the steps leading to the door of the President’s mansion, your skirt was tight and your heels high, doing nothing to help your shaking. Your mother insisted you wear her highest heels, a status symbol? You could manage if you weren’t having trouble hearing anything besides your own quick heartbeat. Despite your parents never being particularly comforting, you felt yourself needing their presence. Being alone made the whole thing that much bigger. 

But they would be at the wedding. The wedding that was set to occur in no more than three hours. The wedding that would be broadcast to all of Panem. The wedding to the man you hadn’t even met yet. The wedding that had your face pasty, your stomach twisting painfully, and your guts spilling out onto the clearly very expensive carpet of the entrance to the President’s home. Not good. 

You look up at the driver and other Avoxes that have suddenly flooded the room. You cringe but they all give you soft looks and some lead you away to get cleaned up while others stay behind to get the carpet cleaned up. That, or just throw it away and replace it, Snow could certainly afford it. 

You’re taken to a surprisingly normal sized room, the furniture dressed in delicately designed skins of floral patterns that look simple but if you looked close enough it was clear that a lot of effort was put into them. And you were looking closely, the whole of your attention on the threaded flowers as the Avoxes wiped your mouth and took your now lightly stained clothes. 

Soon, after you were washed and made into a clean slate, a couple designers you recognized from the Games came in to get you really ready for your wedding. They were stingy with your makeup, a soft and sweet look with colors that complimented your features nicely. Your hair was primarily left alone aside from some shaping to fit a veil. And then your dress… Your dress was not simple. It was decorated with exorbitant beads and jewels that you were impressed avoided looking tacky. You were in awe of yourself as soon as they slipped the dress on. Was that even really you in the mirror? You wouldn’t bat an eye if someone said it was all an illusion. Maybe this was just a strange dream. As they fit the veil into your hair you felt airy and light, like at any moment you could simply float away. 

As the weight of the dress finally settled on your shoulders you were hit with reality again and swallowed down the threat of another ruined carpet. The bouquet, filled with only white roses, was set in your hands and you hoped you wouldn’t drop it when making the treacherous trip down the aisle. Between the weight of the dress, bouquet, and veil, your heels wobbled as you stood. 

The stylists had you walk around the room a little bit, but it didn’t help you to be more steady on your feet. Either way, they seemed satisfied, at least you had yet to topple over. 

It was time. You wished time would move slower.

You closed your eyes as you were set in front of the two glass doors that were dressed with curtains, so you couldn’t see outside and no one could see in. These doors would lead you to your fiance. President Snow. You said the name over and over in your mind, President Coriolanus Snow, you still couldn’t get a grasp on the situation. Your heart was beating so fast you were worried you might actually have a problem. What if you just passed out on your way down the aisle? You take a deep breath.

You hear the Capitol anthem begin to play and take more deep breaths. You jump when you feel an arm link with yours. Sigh. You forgot your father was meant to walk you down the aisle. You give him a weak smile and he returns the gesture with a much more reassuring one and a squeeze of your hand. You turn your attention back to the doors and grip the bouquet firmly with both hands. 

The usual wedding song begins to play and two Avoxes open the door for you and your father. You put on a better smile than the one you gave your father, or you hope you do. Your breathing stops and your feet refuse to move when you look down the aisle and see the President. 

Coriolanus Snow was… Is there a word? Is there a word to describe the perfect man standing in front of you? Well, he would be standing in front of you, if your feet weren’t cemented to the floor. His suit looks similar to your dress in that it’s white and has the same beads and jewels, except it’s toned down. He had a white rose set in his lapel, matching your bouquet, and his blonde, curly, breathtaking hair was neatly styled. Deep breaths. 

Your father took the first step, forcing you to go with him. The closer you got to the beautiful stranger that you kind of knew, the tighter your chest got. The wedding song ended a few steps before you got to Coriolanus Snow and you felt embarrassed at how slow you were, but nothing about this event was helping you walk. Coriolanus Snow smiled at you as you took your space in front of him and if your father wasn’t still holding onto you, you would’ve toppled over from the way it made your knees even weaker. He gave a nod to your father and my father did the same and then the wedding was to commence. 

Coriolanus Snow’s hands stayed folded in front of himself, his eyes never wavering from yours, and you desperately hoped your blush didn’t show. He only finally moved when it was time for the rings. You had to hand your bouquet off because there was no way to carry that thing with one hand. You held out your shaking hand and Coriolanus Snow steadied it with his. His hand was firm and warm, soft and gentle. Your breath hitched and suddenly you felt on the verge of tears. You cursed yourself. What was wrong with you? You really needed to reel yourself in. This was a business arrangement, that’s all. You repeated the affirmation in your head as he slipped the ring onto your finger: a delicate ring with a simple band and single white diamond. 

Your turn. You held his hand and followed instructions as he had, slipping his simple band onto his finger. You take the bouquet back in your hands. 

Then the ‘I dos’. Coriolanus Snow first, then you. You surprised yourself when your words came out clear and unwavering. 

Then the kiss. The kiss. How had you forgotten about the kiss up until this very moment? The kiss. How did people kiss at weddings? You had only been to a handful and the memories were erased as you watched him slowly lean in. You were as still as a statue until he touched your chin and moved your head for you. You closed your eyes when you felt his breath fan over your cheek and soon his lips met yours in a chaste kiss. That one, much too short, second made your skin light on fire and the butterflies in your stomach flutter in chaos. His lips were just the right amount of plump and he used just the right amount of pressure. He was just right.

You blinked a few times when he leaned back, his hand leaving your chin and instead snaking around your arm. 

“Introducing to Panem: mister and misses President Coriolanus Snow!” The guests, crowd outside the wedding, and the people of Panem who couldn’t attend, erupt into applause and cheers. 

---

The ceremony is a blur for you. You try to throw the bouquet as best you can to the crowd who scream and almost tackle each other. You and Cor- your husband cut the cake, the two of you being very respectful. You dance your first dance… Your hands entwined, your other on his shoulder and his gripping your waist, his cheek resting against your forehead. He can probably feel how hot your face is as you sway lightly together. People make toasts, which takes a considerable amount of time. Family members and friends say their piece while other guests simply vie for the attention of the President.

Finally, you can go home. Well, technically you’ll be going to the President’s home, but it is yours now too right? Anyway, it was your new home. You get into a similar car to the one that took you here, except it’s white. Your husband helps you inside before entering himself. You copy him when he waves out the window at the crowd. Then the car is very silent. You occupy yourself by running your hands over your dress, trying to get it to lay flatter. Coriolanus Snow occupies himself by staring at you, his eyes sharp. 

When you arrive at the mansion, you’re helped out of the car and up the steps for the second time of what would be many. Coriolanus Snow’s eyes continue to follow you and you wonder if regret is already festering in his gut. Maybe you did something wrong? He had yet to say a word to just you. 

Once you enter the building though, he clears his throat. “Did you enjoy it?” He pauses and then continues when you don’t answer right away. “The wedding.” He clarifies. 

“Yes. Yes, I did. It was very grand.” You smile, nodding.

He smiles back. “Good… You’ll get used to that.” 

You continue to nod a bit longer than necessary as you look into his eyes, getting lost. He lets out a hum and looks away. “You must be tired. Would you like to head to bed?” He asks, holding out his arm to you. And you take it.

To bed. You would like to go to bed, but did he ask this earnestly? Would you really be sleeping? You reminded yourself this was a business arrangement for the millionth time. But even so, would he be expecting something? At some point he would want children for sure. So soon? It’s possible. 

You resisted the urge to chew on your lip as you two made your way closer and closer to the bedroom. Then, he stopped in front of the door to the side of the one you knew led to the master bedroom. “Here is your room. Mine is there.” He points to the two intricate doors. “You may knock if you need something, but ring for an Avox first, see if they can’t help you.”

Oh.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He smiles and orders a couple Avoxes to help you get ready for bed.

“Goodnight-” You fumble with his name and he raises one of his perfect blonde brows. “What do I call you?”

“Coriolanus is fine. Coryo in public.” He answers, by the way he says it, it’s not a request. 

“Goodnight Coriolanus.” You say softly, and then he heads to his room and so do you.