#custom mobile kitchens | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojoest · 3 months ago

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FIRST WORD — girl dad!gojo satoru

girl dad satoru, established relationship (you’re married, it is indicated that you have two other kids besides the little one that appears in this drabble), nanami cameo, suggestive credits at the end (breeding hinted, just to be safe), sry this lowkey sucks + not proofread, i typed it out in 10 mins but i hope you enjoy!

satoru is trying really hard to get his little daughter to say “papa”, but oh well

“come on, my life — say it”

satoru, crouched down before the baby chair where his little daughter is sitting, a picture of his face in one hand while the other alternates between pointing at the photo and then at his face, slowly repeats, over and over, with utmost perseverance and patience, the first word he wishes his little one would utter—

“pa-pa”, he carefully speaks, syllable by syllable. “pa-pa”, and again. “come on, baby — at least you don’t betray me, i know you’re papa’s girl — come on now, say it”, he pleads.

this has been going on for the past few weeks.

your entire house currently looks like the room of a teenager where it’s posters on the walls and little trinkets on the shelves, courtesy of heavy hyperfixations. but instead of posters and trinkets it’s your husband’s face, everywhere. kitchen, living room, hallways, your baby’s room — every-single-where and every-single-surface and wall has the photograph of your husband’s face on it. he even purchased custom-made plushies and toys of himself, some of which are hanging from the musical baby mobile above your daughter’s crib — but instead of music it’s his voice, teaching his toddler through made-up songs how to say ‘papa’.

“satoru, don’t you think this is a little bit, um— “, you once brought up, pausing to clear your throat, trying your best to sound softer while you say this. knowing how sensitive he is about the matter, and how devoted to have this innocuous win — “…too much? hm, love? it’s like you’re… brainwashing the baby…”

lips immediately pursed, satoru pouted under his nose — “easy for you to say, our two other kids said ‘mama’ first — effortlessly, at that. let me have this one at least”

okay, you shrugged and backed off.

and this morning, as you sipped on your coffee, you silently watched your husband in the kitchen — kneeled down before the baby chair, going about his educational routine.

after he was done with the photos, he took your daughter’s hand and pressed her fingers on his lips, while he kept repeating the word ‘papa’. he said that this method allows the baby to see the way your mouth moves as you speak but also hear and feel the sound all at the same time. (he sure has read a lot of things on the internet)

but your little one remained silent, only giggling here and there as she poked around her father’s face, completely refusing to cooperate with him despite his desperate attempts.

it is an endearing sight, really. part of you felt pity for your husband, you cannot lie. he was trying so hard, and for what...

all of a sudden,

the doorbell rings.

“i’ll take it”, you quickly pad over to open the door.

it’s nanami — dropping by with some baked treats for the kids, as he often does. your children love him a lot. during dinner gatherings he always sneaks away to read them bedtime stories. even though he doesn’t look like the type on the surface, he sure has a soft spot for children. and, truth be told, they are all naturally drawn to him as well. maybe it’s his calm demeanor and the sense of safety he brings along with his presence.

“ah, thank you — these look so delicious, i am sure the kids will die for a bite”, you chime, as you guide him into the kitchen.

“oh— nanami, it’s you”, satoru casually points out without even turning his head to greet him, his eyes glued on his little daughter… who seems to be looking elsewhere, past her father…

…at nanami.

a bit bothered by that, satoru shifts a little bit to the side, to block the view — to, once again, be the main focus in his daughter’s eyes. but, alas…

she tilts her head, googly eyes glancing at the blond man behind her father.

she opens her mouth, a giggle first escapes, and then—

“na-na—”, she pauses… “—mi” — a beam of laughter and her hands reaching forward, pointing at nanami.

silence in the kitchen befalls.

you cover your mouth with a hand, trying to prevent yourself from bursting into laughter. it’s tragic but funny at the same time, and you know — in just a few seconds the real baby in this room will not be your daughter.

“nanami”, satoru slowly stands up, shoulders hanging low and voice — monotone and stern. “get out”

p.s.: satoru makes a scene. he is absolutely devastated. you have to drag him away and pick up the pieces and calm him down. and, of course, he thinks — the only way to make things better is to give him another child. a new opportunity…and you need to get down to business, now. while nanami is babysitting downstairs.

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #tw children

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writersdrug · 4 months ago

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Bartender ghost’s reaction to waitress reader getting hit on by a customer or customers.

There's not nearly enough of these in my askbox send me mooooreeeeeee

He kinda hates it. He hates seeing her getting ogled at, hates seeing them scribble their numbers on the receipts, hates the way they make you run back and forth to grab them ketchup, mayo, more drinks, or to ask Soap for an extra side of fries - hates the way they try to chat you up, leaning back in their seats and saying anything that'll get you giggling and bright eyed - Simon knows it's all for their pleasure, having you at their beck and call for an hour or two, making you their personal little errand girl and watching you weave around tables and customers for their own enjoyment.

Simon isn't mad at you for wearing those shorts and skirts that have the patrons' eyes glued to your backside, or those low-cut, tight tops that hug you so nicely, making them stutter as they give you their order. He's mad at them, those sleazeballs who think they're worth your time or attention. You're his waitress, not their toy. His pretty little over-achiever.

And that's exactly why he tolerates it. He knows you're a grown adult, and he knows you're smart. You play their game, smiling sweetly and acting the tiniest bit coy and frazzled, nonetheless fulfilling every single one of their requests. Pretending to be apologetic about a burger not made to a customer's liking, then barking out orders to Soap once you're behind the kitchen door (don't worry, he barks back). You do it all for the fat tips, the double, sometimes triple digits on their receipts. He swallows the bitter taste of jealousy - well, he tries to. He's got his own patrons at the bartop to worry about.

You waltz over at the end of your shift and slap a receipt on the counter. "Some bloke left me a billion dollar tip." You say with a cheeky grin, cheeks flushed from hours of running between tables.

Ghost cocks an eyebrow, looking at the receipt. Sure enough, the idiot had left his mobile number in the tips section - technically, he left you four billion.

"That won't go through, 'n you know it." He says, looking over the edge of the receipt at you.

You purse your lips and tilt your chin down, looking up at him through your stupid, bloody, gorgeous eyes. "Twenty percent auto-grat, since that's technically not a tip? Pretty pleeeeease?"

He wants to say no, just to prove he's strong-willed against your flirtatious antics. He's an ex-SAS soldier. He's better than this. Your charm may fool those boys at his tables, but not him.

That is, until you carefully wrap your delicate hand around his wrist, using your other fingers to fold the receipt over his knuckles. "It'll be our little secret."

Thank god he has the counter to hide his raging hard on. He huffs and snatches the receipt from your fingers, turning to the POS.

"Fuckin' whatever." He says, punching in the tip. You squeal in delight and flit back to the restaurant floor to finish your tasks.

"Thanks Simon!" You chirp, and he grunts over his shoulder - discretely pressing his boner into counter.

You have to fan the heat from your face, remembering how his wrist felt in your hand.

#bartender ghost #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod #call of duty #ghost cod

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wheelie-sick · 3 months ago

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I don't know how to express this quite right but I'm going to try

in an ideal world everyone who uses a wheelchair with regularity would have access to an adequate custom wheelchair but it is very frustrating when people who are much more ambulatory than I am call me lucky for having insurance approve mine. they aren't recognizing the difference in circumstances between us, they aren't recognizing the position I was in when I got my wheelchair approved.

I know it's frustrating to get an insurance denial, and denial does not mean you don't need a custom wheelchair, but when people do get approved it is usually because they have incredibly significant limitations on their mobility. a lot of people hear about ambulatory wheelchair users being approved for a custom wheelchair and think of an occasional wheelchair user (using occasional here to mean not for a significant portion of every day) I think they don't think about the fact that 10 steps is still ambulatory. I rarely hear of occasional wheelchair users getting approval for a custom wheelchair because being able to walk for a significant portion of every day is actually quite a lot of mobility in the grand scheme of things!

I have pretty consistently had people ask me how I got approved for a custom wheelchair while ambulatory, how I convinced insurance to let me have one, and it's hard to answer because I just unequivocally needed one? when I was approved for my custom wheelchair I was walking under 150 steps a day. I remember this because I wore a Fitbit for a while. that is approximately 4 trips to the bathroom and none to the kitchen. I had to have my family bring me meals because my mobility was so limited. the people who ask me this most often are people on my university campus, people capable of walking to and from their classes a significant portion of the time. ambulatory wheelchair user is a huge gradient of experiences, the ambulatory wheelchair users who get approval for custom wheelchairs are on the side of the spectrum much closer to being entirely unable to walk.

I am often used comparatively by people who have substantially more mobility than me. people will hold up my wheelchair approval and say "look! he got a wheelchair! why can't I get a wheelchair?" statements like this diminish the circumstances I was in when I got that approval. when people hold me up as "the ambulatory wheelchair user who got a custom wheelchair approved" but they're attending school and going to the grocery store they are dismissing a substantial portion of my life where I was a near full time wheelchair user. it shows they don't understand my experience. no, it isn't okay that so many ambulatory wheelchair users are denied custom wheelchairs that they need, but I am not an example of inconsistency unless you too are taking under 150 steps a day. it just makes me feel so used and misunderstood.

truly the most frustrating experience is being told I am "lucky" for having insurance approve my wheelchair. I did not get an approval through luck. it was not chance, it was significant mobility disability. it completely erases the difference in the experience of being an occasional wheelchair user and being a wheelchair user who can only take 25 steps at a time. back when I was less ambulatory I regularly heard (and still hear) people talk to me about how they wish they were me because they don't have a custom wheelchair but if they did they'd use it every time they left the house. they gloss over the fact that I don't get a choice. if I don't leave the house in my wheelchair I am not leaving the house.

it's all just exhausting to deal with. I wish people realized the difference in our circumstances better.

-> this is a post about people with insurance being denied, not about people without access to insurance <-

#physical disability #physically disabled #cripple punk #cripplepunk #wheelchair user

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a-little-revolution · 9 months ago

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Hiya! I'm writing a character with dwarfism (achondroplasia specifically) and I had a quick question. She's a minor background character but I wanted her to still be represented properly and accurately. I'd like for her to be a baker and this is in a medieval fantasy setting.

What are things I should keep in mind as she works in a kitchen? My main concern is the best way for her to get around the kitchen, like going from one counter to the next.

I also want to make sure I don't have her doing any tasks that would hurt her, or show her doing things that would be impossible to do (like bending a certain way).

Would things like kneading dough, mixing ingredients, etc. cause any issues with pain? Obviously it depends on the person but I just wanted to check since most things I see online mention pain in the spine and legs, and reduced joint mobility.

I imagine it would be hard for her to stand for long periods, would a specific type of chair or back brace help? Are there any specific models of chairs you know/like that I can use as a reference for drawing her chair?

Hello!! I'm very passionate about this question as I myself am a baker with dwarfism!! I went to college for it and worked for a while, but most bakeries don't want disabled folks in the kitchen - so my career has changed to customer service while I sort out what I want to do (likely tattooing or something artsy).

Here's some things that would make the kitchen more accessible to your character with dwarfism:

Lower counters, or platforms/stools throughout so she can access her work space

Sinks with long handles (possibly an attachment) for easy reaching. Keep in mind that most LP have a shorter reach as well as height, so long counters and deep sinks can pose an obstacle.

Smaller tools to account for her hand size - stainless steel bowls that are lightweight and easy to carry

Yes, kneading and mixing could cause pain if she has arthritis, which many little people do - she may choose to wear a wrist brace, use a stand mixer, or take frequent brakes

Her apron will be long on her, so she'll likely hike it up at the waist when she ties it

Seating areas, such as near the stove when brakes are available, is something I find I need, but she may or may not depending on her capabilities and leg pain. Her chair would have short legs and a shallow seat with good back support.

She may choose to have other people carry hot pots of water or spill able things to the sink, as getting off and on a stool/platform with such things are a safety risk. She'll likely carry thing like that on her hip.

When I was in baking school I bought a lot of my own tools - smaller and lighter rolling pins, grips for lids, wooden tongs to reach things and turn on elements, etc.

I hope this helps! - E

#asks #accesibility #dwarfism #dwarfism in writing #little people #disability

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mindfulstudyquest · 3 months ago

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❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘀 pros and cons

a girl asked me to talk about my erasmus experience in the questions box and she inspired me to make this post. if you have posts to request don't be shy! unfortunately i don't have all the time i would like to uptade but i will try to keep up.

erasmus is a student mobility program of the european union that allows a european student to attend a school in another EU country for a period of time legally recognized by their home institution.

it is a temporary experience with many benefits, enabling students to engage with different cultures and customs. due to its non-permanent nature, i believe it is one of the most beautiful opportunities for a student to feel completely free to explore and understand themselves, to figure out what they want and do not want from their life and educational path.

but let’s start by discussing its downsides. unfortunately, not everything is perfect.

𝟭. paperwork ( 📄 )

hey, i know, guys, i'm not the first or the only one to say this, but the paperwork for erasmus is a pain in the ass. it's not only extremely complicated, but universities (mine for sure, but i know it's a common experience) provide zero help in filling out the documentation. especially if you're not familiar with bureaucracy (and at 20 it’s normal not to be familiar with these things), it can seem like an insurmountable mountain. but if i, someone who doesn’t understand anything about this stuff, managed to get through it, you can do it too. typically, the documentation includes:

various information like ID, health card, and the IBAN of an account in your name (or joint name) where they will deposit the scholarship.

learning agreement, another plague sent from hell because you usually have to deal with two professors, one from your university and one from the host university, who clearly would prefer to mop the sea than help you fill out your learning agreement.

financial agreement for the scholarship, which has specific deadlines by which you need to submit documents (usually IBAN, learning agreement, and acceptance letter from the host university). fun fact: i almost missed this and didn’t receive the scholarship because these deadlines were buried deep in my university’s website (don’t be like me, make sure to be informed well about the financial agreement or you risk being left without money).

the best advice i can give you is to find someone from your university who has already done the erasmus where you’re supposed to go and ask them for some information. they, having gone through it, know what mistakes to avoid and what’s best to do. the offices often assume too many things and give you insufficient and hasty information.

𝟮. finding an accomodation ( 🏡 )

this too, another pain in the ass. it depends on the city, but here in madrid, finding a place to live has been a nightmare (and indeed, i've significantly overshot the budget i had set for rent). you have various options for accommodation:

student dormitories these solutions may seem the best at first glance, but they aren’t always. here in madrid, the fees for the dormitories at my campus cost more than my current rent, plus having only one kitchen for an entire floor is not exactly optimal comfort, especially if, like me, you cook a lot.

apartment studio/flat this is definitely the most comfortable option, but also the most expensive. a studio outside the center in big cities can cost up to €1000 a month. however, if you can afford it and prefer privacy, then go for it. at first, living alone might not be easy, especially if it’s your first time away from family, but you’ll get through it quickly.

room in an apartment this can be the best or the worst option depending on your luck because having flatmates means cohabitation, which is not always pleasant. if you're going in erasmus with someone you know, it might be optimal to share an apartment or take two rooms in a larger flat. personally, i rented a room in an apartment with three other people (two bathrooms and a kitchen), and i couldn’t be happier; i love my flatmates, and we quickly became friends. we cook together, go out together, spend entire evenings chatting and joking and they helped me a lot overcoming the first crisis. i realize, though, that i am an exception, so choose your accommodation carefully.

in short, consider your choice based on 3 factors:

proximity to the university/public transport links i study outside of madrid, almost an hour by bus from my place, but i live practically across from the bus stop, so it’s not a problem at all.

centrality/connection to the city center you're in erasmus to experience the city!

comfort of the place such as private bathroom (very hard to find but not impossible), utensils, AC, appliances (we have a dishwasher at home, and i assure you it saves our lives everytime).

𝟯. homesickness ( 🤧 )

yes, everyone feels homesick, even the most stoic. but guarantee you, you'll get through it. first of all erasmus, fortunately or unfortunately, isn’t forever. it’s a 6 month/1 year experience that is incredibly valuable for your personal growth, at the end of this period of time, you'll be back home. secondly, you can always stay in touch with friends and family in the age of technology. those who truly love you will support you in this project and do everything they can to make you feel less lonely. lastly, during erasmus, you’ll make many amazing friendships and connections that you otherwise would never have the chance to make.

𝟰. language barrier ( 🦜 )

i can’t say much about this, i've never studied spanish in my life, but, since i'm italian, i have no trouble following the lessons and understanding people when they speak, even though i'm still not able to express myself well in this new language. however, by living in another country, you’ll learn the language much faster and more effectively than with any academic course. in just a month, i already feel much more comfortable with spanish, and everyday i learn new things.

and of course, i could talk for hours about the benefits of erasmus, but i might save my praises for a post i'll write later, towards the end of this experience.

i can tell you that in just a month here, a whole new world has opened up for me. not only is the thrill of being in another city, in another country, an electrifying flow of continuous energy, but i’ve also realized things about myself that i might have ignored before.

i have much more confidence in myself; i feel freer, less afraid of making mistakes. it’s true, i’m far from my family and friends, but this also means i’m far from all those eyes under which i always try to appear perfect.

i crave to see and learn, i'm eager to discover new things, and this drives me to do things i probably wouldn’t do in my home country, to appreciate their flavor and indulge in the uncertainty of "maybe i’ll like this".

for the first time, i’m experiencing a new country without the rose-tinted filter of a short vacation. i’ve never felt as rich and full of gratitude as i do now, and i hope this is a feeling every student can experience.

so, erasmus, yes or no? absolutely yes.

i’d love to keep updating you on my experience abroad. what do you think? would you like that? let me know in the comments! star kisses ⭐

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petermorwood · 6 months ago

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I was wondering if you could answer a question about armor, especially the solid/articulated types - how much did it need to be personalized or fitted? I ask because I often see people criticizing fantasy/gaming armor for being too heavy or cumbersome, but rarely for perfectly fitting everyone between five and seven feet tall regardless of whether they're built like Legolas or Gimli.

So I'm curious about whether and what kinds of armor might have been mass produced vs what needed to be customized. Was it easier to produce broadly applicable armor or to recruit your army by height and weight?

Non-custom-fitted mass-produced armour ("munition grade" as some modern repro makers call it) started becoming more common when workshops where everything ran on muscle-power became ones whose hammers, grinders and polishers were powered by a water-wheel.

Making armour to fit a range of average sizes now took less time, effort and wages, so could be sold for less and be afforded by more people.

It would have been made in the period equivalent of S, M, L and maybe XL, with buyers either paying extra for custom adjustments, or DIY-ing for better fit with padded liners to make it snug or extra holes punched into straps for more space.

*****

Top grade plate armour on the other hand was almost like a second skin - a common term is "exoskeleton".

This post from a few years back has a lot more information, including what was done to ensure a good fit when the wearer couldn't be measured in person: for instance sending close-fitting garments or even wax model limbs to the armourer.

It definitely wouldn't have fitted anyone but the original owner anything like as well. In particular, if a non-original wearer was longer or shorter in arm or leg, the armour's knee and elbow joints might pinch at distracting moments or simply not flex through their full range.

"Is increased protection better than reduced mobility?" was a question where the wrong answer could prove fatal.

*****

Perhaps that's why medieval art shows a lot of partial armour being worn:

arm-harness - sometimes just vambraces on the forearms, often all the parts from gauntlets to pauldrons (hands to shoulders);

brigandine - a cloth or leather jacket with small metal plates riveted inside; this wasn't concealed armour, the rivets arranged in rows or patterns were an obvious decorative feature;

haubergeon (or byrnie, though that's more a Saxon / Viking term IMO) - a short-sleeved, short-bodied mail shirt, usually worn under something else;

plackart - front or sometimes front-and-rear lower-abdomen torso plates;

poleyns - knee-guards, worn on otherwise unarmoured legs.

The one thing everyone wore is the first thing Hollywood armour leaves off - a helmet - while the archer below has not just a helmet, haubergeon, brigandine and poleyns, but also something equally important, a brayette or breech...

...which is a pair - or at least the front half where It Matters Most - of well-padded mail and indeed male underpants.

Full plate armours had full plate ones which were even more emphatic. Boob-plates may be (mostly) fantasy, but obvious gendered armour was A Real Thing.

*****

Flexible armour like mail, scale and lamellar wasn't tailored for fit; being flexible it didn't need to be. That said, if the size was really wrong one way or the other, it could be reduced or enlarged by removing or adding sections, similar to a modern tailor taking in or letting out a garment.

I have a vague recollection of a photo showing a late medieval haubergeon with tailoring darts inserted under the arms, but I can't remember where or when, so "vague" has more weight than "recollection". ;-P

Genuine mail is rarer in museums than plate armour, because at the end of its working life mail armour was often chopped into pot-scrubbers for the kitchen. You can buy the same sort of thing today.

Finally, while some looted high-grade armour, or at least parts of it, might fit the looter straight away, it's more likely that after any battle there was probably a brisk trade in swapping what didn't fit for what did.

Hope This Helps! :->

#arms and armour #how well did armour fit?#tailored armour #bespoke armour or off-the-peg?

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customconcessions · 6 months ago

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Tips to Make Your Food Truck Stand Out Amidst Competition

Do you have a food truck? Are you looking for ways to stand out amidst competitors? Then, this read is for you. The mobile food trailer is becoming increasingly popular. It makes it difficult for business owners to compete. While it might be difficult to balance costs, planning, inventory, and everything else involved in running a business, gaining a competitive advantage is not easy. If you don't stand out from the crowd, you may need to do some homework. Here are a few tips that can help you get your truck to the top of the list for potential consumers.

Create a distinctive food truck logo and name.

Potential clients' initial impression of your food truck mobile kitchen will be its visual identity. Invest in a professionally designed logo and select a unique and catchy name that reflects your company and the food you serve. Bold colors and colorful artwork can help your food truck stand out and be memorable.

Consistent Branding on All Platforms

Ensure that your brand identity, including your logo, color scheme, and visuals, is consistent across all of your marketing materials, including Custom Mobile Kitchens and business. Consistency improves brand identification, allowing customers to remember and recognize your food truck.

Participate in Local Events

Attending local events and food festivals is an excellent opportunity to promote your food truck to new customers while also connecting with your neighborhood. Make sure to promote your participation through social media apps and other marketing platforms. Offer unique menu options or special prices at these events to attract customers.

Final Thought

You must first choose the best food truck builder who offers customization options to make your food truck stand out from competitors. You can search on Google. Else ask your neighbors about food truck for sale to find reliable service. Next, you need to follow the tips mentioned above. Remember, consistency is the key to success. Hence, be patient and deliver quality food to achieve success.

#mobile food trailer #food truck mobile kitchen #Custom Mobile Kitchens #food truck for sale

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year ago

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Playing Minecraft with Ellie Williams

x Builder!Reader short headcanon list

Loser!Ellie makes an appearance if you squint

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

TLOU Masterlist

Ellie Williams dating playlist made by yours truly

A/n: Hi lovelies! Lia here, this post is completely self-indulgent because I was playing Minecraft earlier and thought of this. I am so obsessed with the Cherry blossom biome shit that I've literally been building with it nonstop. Little update, more Cod and Resident Evil content to be posted soon.

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC?, Unrealistic, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me.

ꕥ Ellie who is definitely the one carrying the both of you during playing.

ꕥ She's the miner and you're the builder situation, she's over in the mines slaying mobs and collecting loot while you're all the way up in the quaint little survival base you built.

ꕥ Beds next to each other for sure, Ellie insists. You want your own room? Not happening, y'all are sharing one room. Dyes her bed green and effortlessly finding dyes so that you can have your favorite color as your bed.

ꕥ "Babe, look what I found!" Que to her doing the little Minecraft crouch and giving you a flower she found while exploring.

ꕥ Said flower is now proudly displayed in a pot at the kitchen area.

ꕥ Doesn't care if it's corny, you're Minecraft character will virtually kiss hers while little "mwah <3" messages pop up on the chat.

ꕥ Nerd Ellie who custom made Minecraft skins so that they both looked like you guys. (Meanwhile Jesse has a default Steve one)

ꕥ She's a completely different person when gaming with Jesse than she is gaming with you. She would literally spawn kill him just to piss him off but she'd literally hold a little fake funeral if you died (not by her hand, never by hers) and you'd respawn and see a little makeshift graveyard next to your guys' house.

ꕥ Has done speedruns before but she'd rather just chill with you. Whenever you're not around to game with her, she does little things that don't affect the build but definitely something you'll notice when you're back.

ꕥ When it's all four of you playing, you, Ellie, Dina and Jesse. It's automatic that you're always with Ellie. Jesse once accidentally killed your dog and Ellie was pissed, like "purposefully lagging his game" pissed.

ꕥ She definitely steals loot from Jesse. Poor Jesse is always the victim of the shenanigans of the sever while Dina is chilling and doing her own thing.

ꕥ Wants you on her lap whenever you're gaming, though that would be difficult if you gamed on PC so maybe keep it on mobile.

ꕥ Ellie who had to convince you to on survival with her because you always just played on creative. She promised to protect you from the scary mobs, especially creepers.

ꕥ Need materials? You got it, doesn't matter if she has to go to the end or the nether she'll go and get you what you need.

ꕥ Asks you to cook the items she hunted, joking around while with Jesse in the mines (she has lured him into lava more times than you can count) telling him she needs to go back home to her wife (you of course).

ꕥ Loser!Ellie who literally prefers gaming with you rather than anyone else, it's one of her most favorite ways to spend time with you.

ꕥ Ellie who notices how much you love the cherry blossom biome so she makes an effort to get you materials to build with. Saplings, planks, and logs. You name it, she'll get it. Even going as far as to plant it around your guys' house.

ꕥ Always leaves signs around whenever she leaves without your knowledge, she once left a sign out in your garden with "I love you - Ells <3" and you've never taken it off. It just stayed there, being part of the aesthetic of the house you made together.

ꕥ Knows random ass Minecraft facts and tells you whenever something reminds her of it. Not that you mind, you love listening to her.

ꕥ Finds mods that she thinks you'll like, if she doesn't find it she'll try to make her own mods but it's never really successful. At least she tried <3

#ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou ellie #wlw #minecraft #gaming #Aethelwyne Lia writes

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marjoch · 14 days ago

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YOU’VE GOT MAIL

Jayce and Viktor are instant-messaging anonymously after meeting in an AOL chat room. They're also research competitors in New York City, and have no idea that they're slowly falling in love with their would-be business rival.

Inspired by the 1998 film You've Got Mail.

early updates @ josmarch on ao3

CHAPTER ONE

Viktor had always loved New York. Growing up in Brooklyn it was just him and his mother, who had immigrated from the Czechia in search of business opportunity. She had owned a small shop selling quirky inventions, a place she called The Shop Around The Corner due to its proximity the apartment she spent the rest of her life in. She’d been building things all her life, but the business kicked off when he was in elementary school, and she focused on expanding access to mobility. When he wasn’t in school, Viktor found himself following the same path. Drawn to science and mathematics, Viktor worked alongside his mother until she passed away and left him the storefront.

These days he worked with Sky Young, a woman who helped show walk-in customers around the crowded shop. She was curious about inventing, but Viktor had yet to convince her to open up and try something on her own. For now, she was good at watching the merchandise while he worked on more important things in the office.

Viktor’s mother died five years ago in 1993, but her creations still littered the shelves of the store. In fact, it was almost certain that they outnumbered his own. To be fair, Viktor’s projects were often lengthy and risked failure, while his mother did work on the side for commission or personal interest. His current project was an expansion of her thoughts on enabling someone suffering from paralysis to have full autonomy. It was intricate: neuroscience, engineering, and anatomy rolled into one. It was costly and timely, taking him upwards of a season. He’d started in August, and the clocked still ticked onwards a week out from the holidays.

The shop was funded by scientific and engineering grants that Viktor spent long hours applying for. He was noticing that he had to put in more effort recently: a couple times now, he had been expecting for something to pull through, and they had gone in a different direction. Even one of his regular investors was supporting something newer, and it was beginning to stress him out. He had a nagging feeling that the newly-constructed research facility just blocks down the street had something to do with it. The newspaper headlines said something about an achievement related to transportation, but he hadn’t gotten the chance to read about it yet.

When he wasn’t at the storefront, Viktor was in the apartment down the street that he shared with his cat Rain. She was a black cat, practically nonverbal unless she was convincing him to feed her. Her hobbies consisted of napping, staring, and sitting in Viktor’s lap, which made her a very easy roommate.

The apartment was a two-bedroom unit with a small bathroom and a fire escape. He’d lived here with his mother, and he’d moved things around since it became his alone, apart from her bedroom. It was frozen in time, the same as the day she left, with the addition of a few boxes of her personal belongings from elsewhere in the house. He couldn’t bring himself to touch it, and he was too busy these days anyway.

The morning of December 18th, Viktor woke up early. He spent an hour working his thoughts out in a notebook before ever leaving the bed, and Rain showed up expectantly when he entered the kitchen to make coffee. He fed her and let her have her space to eat, heading to the computer in the living room and starting it up. In its own time, it displayed the AOL instant messaging login screen. He input the correct information (username Tinkerman) and the startup informed him “you’ve got mail”, a sound that should not have made his stomach flutter like it did. He ignored the feeling, clicking on the chat he’d been anticipating a response from.

NY1972 was a man from the Upper West Side. That’s about all the personal details Viktor knew about him, except that he lived with his long-term girlfriend, and he worked in technology. Opening the chat they communicated through, Viktor read the latest message:

Today’s rainy in this area of town. I find that I don’t mind the weather, it feels nostalgic as it reminds me of growing up in Seattle. I heard we’re due for a wet winter, so I should invest in a new raincoat. Work these days is repetitive, there are so many companies willing to fund technological advances but even more hoping applicants. I can only hope my proposal is good enough to convince them. How are you this morning? I imagine you’re reading this as you drink your morning coffee, preparing for what awaits. NY1972

Viktor looked down at his coffee mug, feeling a bit seen-through. He shrugged a little, took a sip, and got to writing back:

The weather’s not so bad here. It looks like rain, but I’m not convinced today is the day. It’s fascinating that you are also working to acquire funding for your projects. May I ask what your passion is? If it’s too personal, I understand. I’m interested in hearing about anything, from your current favorite book to the inner workings of your daily routine. My morning started with research, and will likely end the same way. How is your day? Have you been to Seattle recently? Tinkerman

He sat there after pressing send, and stood up from the desk. NY1972’s message had come in earlier in the morning, so it could be before the evening that he received a response. He was getting dressed for work when he heard the notification of a message coming through AIM chat. He nearly stumbled making his way back to the computer, expectantly looking for an update.

My family is still in Seattle, I sometimes visit for the holidays. My father also works in technology, but his company is based on the West Coast. I think he holds a grudge against me for moving this far away. I’m still learning to appreciate New York, but making connections within the community has helped. I’m working in renewable energy these days. I’m about to leave for work, but I look forward to hearing from you later this evening. NY1972

It was nice to know that this man wanted to speak to him as much as Viktor wanted to hear. He sat in front of the computer, hands lingering over the keys, before words found him.

I have the same busy day ahead of me. I fear my cat will be upset at the lack of my presence, but she’s good at keeping herself entertained. I am curious if you have any pets? Let me know when you do return, and work hard. Tinkerman

Viktor logged out of AIM before he allowed himself to waste time sitting around in hopes of another message. The pair of them had met in a larger chat server, and when they’d moved the conversation to a private window, Viktor noticed how NY1972 was driven by his work. Viktor worked long hours, even occasionally staying at the storefront overnight, and he had noticed that there was sometimes no message awaiting him when he returned. He tried not to allow any disappointment to cloud his judgment, but this internet stranger was captivating his attention. He pulled his jacket on, leaned on his cane as he locked the front door, and started his short walk to the storefront.

Sky was waiting outside, having arrived just before him. “Good morning,” she chirped, dressed in a warm sweater, navy trousers, with her hair pulled back and glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose.

“Morning,” Viktor responded, unlocking the door and pushing it open for her. She entered first, flipping on the lights. The dark shop was instantly illuminated, bright lights shining down on the shelves of metal. Sky pulled the curtains open, letting the natural light in. Viktor headed back towards the register, setting to count the drawer.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Sky noted.

Viktor looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“You never seem this bright,” she clarified. “Did one of the grants pull through?” Hesitation, then: “Seeing anyone new lately?”

He shook his head and went back to counting the bills. As he worked, he answered, “I should ask you that question. I’ve yet to hear you speak of anyone, and you’re an attractive young woman. You’re intelligent. You could have men lined up down the block.”

“I could find someone if I was looking,” Sky said. She was watching him with some expression of longing, but Viktor missed the meaning in her gaze, focused. “So there’s no one? What’s got you acting all different?”

Viktor finished counting and put the cash drawer back in the register, closing it. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he feigned innocence. “I’m the same as I always am.” He straightened up the junk on the counter: sticky notes, a cup of pens, a stack of receipts. Sky didn’t go anywhere, staring as if it would reveal his secrets. It worked, because he sighed. “Alright. If I tell you, you cannot judge me.”

“Why would I judge you?” Sky laughed, leaning on the counter on the opposite side from where he stood. “I’m all ears.”

Viktor flipped through receipts as he spoke. “Last week, I had a night off. I ended up in one of the AOL instant messaging chat rooms.”

Sky laughed again, interrupting. “Oh, really?”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

She put her hands up. He continued on.

“I ended up talking to a man who is also in tech. He understands the work I do, it’s been a refreshing conversation. We’ve been messaging privately since that night.”

“And?” Sky pressed, never taking her eyes off of him. “What’s his name?”

Viktor met her eyes for the first time since he started sharing. Sky didn’t need a response to get the message.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed. “You don’t know his name. You’re talking to a guy on AIM, and you don’t know his name.”

“No, I don’t know his name,” Viktor said, coming around the counter and fixing the flyers on the front windows. Each of them displayed information about upcoming neighborhood events. The most important was two days before Christmas, in which Viktor was hosting an inventor’s fair. His mother started the tradition, and for ten years now, inventors and engineers in Brooklyn would bring their creations to the shop and demonstrate their discoveries. “He has a girlfriend. It’s not a big deal.” He straightened the crooked poster announcing the date and time.

“Interesting,” Sky said. “What are you trying to get out of this?”

“Good conversation at the very least,” Viktor replied, putting the conversation to rest by walking back towards the office. “I’m going to keep working on the project. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Have fun,” was the response from his assistant. The amusement in her voice never faltered, and Viktor almost regretted telling her about his new friend. He lost himself in his equations, sitting at his workbench and carrying on what he’d been working on for months, forgetting about NY1972 as well as he could.

Jayce had always hated New York. The noise was constant, and the stench was even worse. Growing up outside Seattle, he preferred the quiet and clean streets. He missed a lot about the city: his family, his best friend who may as well be his sister, even the weather. While he’d been in New York for two years now, he was still adjusting. Things were starting to look up, as he finally acquired property for the research facility he’d always dreamed of.

Jayce’s routine was easy. He woke up at seven in the morning each day, even the weekends, and either worked out or worked on his current project (depending on what the day called for). He lived with his girlfriend, who’d he been dating since just before his cross-country move. Since they became official, Mel had been elected to the state senate, leaving Jayce alone on weeks when she was required to travel for work. He’d kept himself entertained with a multitude of books and his own projects, but he recently found himself in an AOL instant messaging chat room, in which he came across Tinkerman, a captivatingly educated personality who was also in New York.

On December 18th, Mel was out of town. Jayce woke up, worked out, and made breakfast before sending his morning message to Tinkerman. He was buttoning up his shirt when he heard the AIM notification from the living room. Against his better efforts to stay calm, he rushed to finish dressing and hurried back to his computer. He found himself smiling at the response before him. It was nice to know that someone cared enough to ask questions.

After responding, he turned off the computer and took a taxi to Brooklyn. He was living in the Upper West Side in Mel’s spacious apartment, but he’d gotten property in a different borough because it allowed him to get his research up and running.

Just down the street from The Shop Around The Corner, Talis Technologies was two-story building that replaced an old bookstore. The building had been gutted and redesigned to add research laboratories, offices, and a large room solely for a supercomputer and all its related gadgets and gizmos.

Jayce was pouring himself into a project he’d been focused on for the better half of the year. He had a concept for introducing new cross-country transportation ideas, but was just now securing the location and the funding to pick up the pace. He was expecting an investor to show up for a tour this morning, but the appointment time came and went, and he heard nothing. He ended up in his office, flipping through a business magazine that gave him an idea of potential investors to call.

His cell phone rang, then. It was the investor, an hour and a half late. Jayce answered immediately. “Jayce Talis speaking.”

“Hello Mr. Talis,” said the deep voice on the other end of the line. “Apologies for the miscommunication about our appointment this morning. We have already chosen to award this grant to someone else, but we encourage you to apply again in the future.”

Jayce deflated, but kept himself together on the call. “Thank you for letting me know.” Curiosity got the better of him, so he continued, “May I ask who the grant went to?”

“We have been a consistent supporter of The Shop Around The Corner throughout the years, so we’ve chosen to continue maintaining that partnership. They have an inventor’s fair coming up, perhaps it would be to your advantage to network with peers and other potential investors.”

Now he wasn’t disappointed, he was annoyed. He hadn’t been to The Shop Around The Corner yet, but he was under the impression it was less of a scientific facility and more of a knick-knack store. It felt like the investor only chose The Shop because of their history, and not due to any possible successes, but he couldn’t let that show in his tone. “I appreciate having the opportunity to apply, and hope you have an excellent rest of your day.”

“Take care, Mr. Talis.” The investor hung up.

Jayce sat at his desk for a minute, then stood and made his way outside. He had to get some fresh air. He’d been expecting this grant to work out, and it was taken from under him.

Since he’d never been to The Shop Around The Corner, he figured he would see what all the fuss was about. He knew exactly where it was, having passed it in the taxi many times before. Three blocks west. When he arrived, he peered inside, curious for a glimpse.

A woman was entering the shop holding hands with a young boy, and she held the door for him. Jayce refused her gesture and held the door for her, then thanked her anyway. He followed her inside, looking around for a better idea of what was going on. So many unintelligible things on shelves of various heights. Despite the critiques coming to mind, he could imagine his teenage bedroom, full of the same seemingly-nonsense useful tools.

The woman seemed to have a good idea of how to go about shopping here, because she headed directly to the counter. Another woman sat behind it, and she struck up conversation with the customer. Jayce was eavesdropping until he saw a man walk out of a door behind the desk. He was older than the woman helping at the counter, about Jayce’s age. The pair of them locked eyes, and the man stopped.

“Can I help you?” said the man to Jayce. He seemed so genuine about the inquiry, Jayce almost felt bad for intruding in his space. Before the silence grew too lengthy, Jayce thought of something to say.

“Yeah,” he finally spoke. “I’m new in the area. I’m stopping by all of the shops and stores and checking things out, trying to get familiar with my surroundings.”

The man’s face softened. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” he said. “I’m Viktor. I run this shop with Miss Young.” He gestured to the woman behind the counter, who was still assisting the customer.

“I’m Jayce,” he introduced in response. “I’m just a few blocks from here.”

“You should come by more often,” Viktor nodded. “We have an inventor’s fair coming up, it’s open to the public. It’d be a great time to meet your neighbors.”

So it wasn’t just knick-knacks, it was outreach. Jayce could understand how someone with deep roots in the community beat him out for a grant, he just couldn’t let it happen again.

“If I’m free, I’ll try to stop by,” was he response he offered. He stepped back, then. “I’ve got to get going, but thank you.”

Viktor said nothing, watching this Jayce leave with intrigue.

“Thank you for what?” said Sky when he was finally gone. She’d finished with the customer, who was now poking around the shelves with her son.

“I’m not quite sure,” Viktor answered, picking up the receipt from the latest sale and stacking it on top of the others. The growing pile was bound to fall over soon.

“Do you think he’ll show up?”

“Probably not,” Viktor shrugged. He looked around the store. Noticing it was empty, he put forth a proposition. “I can watch the store if you want to go get us lunch. Whatever you want.”

“I got you,” she said, popping the cash drawer open and taking a twenty. “Be back soon.”

The bell on the door rang as Sky exited. Viktor basked in the silence, intending to rest his wandering mind for a few moments, but instead finding himself wondering if there was a message waiting for him when he finally got home later.

Three blocks to the east, Jayce was doing the very same thing.

#jayvik #jayce x viktor #jayce talis #viktor arcane #you’ve got mail #au #arcane

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hudsontrailerco · 5 months ago

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makethatelevenrings · 1 year ago

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Angel By the Wing - Twenty Eight

chapter warnings: pregnancy, alcohol (it's a bar so)

Series Masterlist (Mobile Masterlist)

Despite the fact that this had never been your plan, that you were pregnant and couldn’t even drink, and you were bone tired, the Hard Deck seemed to be your happy place. The dark wood stained with rings from years of cold beer bottles enveloped you the moment you walked in. The walls were lined with memorabilia and photos of patrons, both civilians and servicemembers. Penny bought this place from a couple who opened it back in the 80s. The classic old bar feel was attributed to the fact that it truly was a classic old bar. The jukebox had been replaced so it could still play, but the music was usually rock from the past few decades.

There was something about this place that made you feel alive. You loved it here.

“How are you feeling?” Chelsea asked once you slid behind the bar to help her with the day’s prep.

“I am fine. Baby is fine. The boys literally pouted this morning when they realized they weren’t going to be able to come with me to the doctor,” you recounted. The bar had just opened at four and only a few customers were here. They were the typical crowd who wanted the bar experience but didn’t want to be here when it was a raucous mess.

A few orders for burgers and some appetizers were being worked on in the kitchen, so that left you to help Chelsea fix up the bar and take inventory of what bottles you had for the night.

“Oh, how far along are you?” A soft voice interrupted your counting. You looked up to find a woman seated at the bar. She was older, around Penny’s age, with a soft, plump face and bright green eyes. You offered her a polite smile, figuring she had just stopped off the plane considering she had a suitcase leaning up against her.

“Almost ten weeks.”

Her nose wrinkled up and she let out a hiss between her teeth. “First trimester is the worst, in my opinion. The nausea is always brutal.”

“Oh, my morning sickness hasn’t been too bad. It’s the fatigue that gets me.”

She nodded. “It’s as if the more you sleep, the more tired you are.”

“So it’s not just me? Thank god, it feels like I’m being drained of all energy.”

She laughed and shook her head. “No, it’s common. So this is your first?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Your smile softened at the thought of the ultrasound photo pinned to the fridge in your apartment. You don’t know when it shifted from “Jake’s place” to your place. From Bradley’s inability to put his shoes away to Jake’s propensity to strip off his sweaty workout clothes the second he walked in the front door to your collection of random pens ending up strewn across any and all surfaces in the house. The townhome with its two bedrooms, one for the three of you packed in tightly in the king sized bed and one that was a guest room for now but the soft whispers in the morning about what color should you paint the walls for the nursery was changing things.

“You must be very excited,” she continued.

“And nervous. Can I get you anything to drink? Eat?”

“A Long Island ice tea would be fantastic.”

Quick and simple. You placed the drink in front of her on top of a napkin and smiled. “What brings you to San Diego?”

She took a sip from her drink and waved her hand in the air. “Oh, you don’t need to listen to my life story. I’m sure you have to do this all night.”

Maybe so, but she was a lot nicer and more sober than your usual customers who slurred through sobbing tales about cheating exes and shitty bosses. You shrugged and grabbed a clean rag to work on wiping down the counter.

“If I didn’t want to hear about people’s lives, I would become an accountant or something.” Your smile grew. “So if you don’t tell me, I’m just going to have to come up with ideas. You’re a billionaire boss lady in town for a huge investment meeting. You’re a CIA agent who is trying to get information out of me, but I gotta warn you that I don’t know anything of importance. Or maybe you’re a travel blogger on the hunt for the best beaches in the world.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m just here to visit family.”

“And your first stop was a bar? Jeez, is your family that bad?”

Her smile fell slightly and you paused in your cleaning. “No. My son is amazing. Both of my kids are the absolute fucking light of my life. But I don’t know if this will be a happy trip.”

“Why’s that?”

She considered you for a moment, her head tilting to the side in a way that reminded you of Jake in the morning when he woke up too early and couldn’t process any words you said. Her lips curved up into a soft smile and she sighed.

“I’m not drunk enough yet for that conversation. Tell me about you. How are you feeling about becoming a mom?”

The words spilled out of you before you could stop them. You were a mixture of fear and elation, but you were starting to truly believe in this little family you had created. Two men saw the flaws in you and pushed past them. Penny and Sarah were the mothers you had craved your whole life. Natasha, Sofia, and Amelia were your sisters that you always dreamed of having.

Your cheeks ached from the smile that clung to your lips and you brightened as the door opened. Waving in greeting, Natasha and Sofia made their entrance and then went to claim their usual table. Their presence meant that the rest of the Dagger Squad would be on their way. Thanks to Sofia working as a medical receptionist on base, the couple carpooled to work and back.

“Give me one sec,” you told your faithful listener and turned to grab a beer for Natasha and a mojito for Sofia. You were finishing off the garnish on the mojito when two arms wrapped around your middle. Lips peppered your cheeks and the rough, scratchy beard immediately clued you into who it was.

“Hey, you two are not supposed to be behind the bar!” you chided. Bradley ignored your protests and instead buried his face against your neck. You sighed and shuffled yourself around so you could see the infamous Jake Seresin smirk.

“What is wrong with him?” you deadpanned.

“Sorry for missing you, darlin’. How’s you and baby doing?” The stitches on your arm stung when you pulled your arm to the side, but everything else was perfectly fine. When you told them as such, the relief on their faces was instant.

“C’mere, Tex,” you hummed. He settled his hands on your waist and bent his head down to lay a kiss on Bradley’s curls and then to your lips. You stopped him before he could deepen the kiss and shook your head with a laugh.

“Grab some beers, take these over to the others, and shoo. Go. Let me do my job.”

“Can you blame us for wanting to be with our girls all the time?” Bradley teased but he untangled himself from you. You rolled your eyes but the smile never left your face.

Until Jake turned around and met the eyes of the woman you spent the better part of an hour chatting with. He stilled and nearly dropped the beer he was holding if you hadn’t reached out and grabbed it.

“Mom?” Jake blurted out.

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