#what happened months ago for them also happened months ago for you

[squiddy-god]

♡Will you be my valentine?♡

lads x reader

Hehehehe ok ok so i would like to say, keep in mind this is mostly based in american valentines day and not valentines/white day so i tried to mix them, but i'll do white day too. I might make some more spicy hcs later  

Cw ; fluff, gn reader (still mc but written to be inclusive), use of pet names, jealousy, possessiveness. Use of the word “bride” but in a gn way? If you know you know. Use of y/n because what else am i supposed to use?? Caleb slander in zayne’s part vice versa. Xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb 

Xavier 

No 

He is not asking to be your valentine, you ARE his valentine and he makes that known so immediately 

The month of february hits and he sees you watching those videos of people sad their partner hasnt asked them to be their valentine and he just goes “good thing you are my valentine” 

Don't correct him and say he hasn't asked

You. are.

I can absolutely see him getting you one of those teddybears with a heart or some other stuffed animal for the holiday but he is immediately beefing

He has beef with the STUFFY HE GOT YOU. 

On a side note i think he 100% is the type to get jealous over your plushies “why do you get to sleep in their bed and i don't?” those snuggles are HIS and he won't share 

If you make him chocolate he is on cloud 9, not only does he get a snack but also its from you and means he's special~

Now if you receive chocolates from someone? Some secret admirer? He is melting those sweets with his gaze- he wants them in the trash 5 seconds ago 

I think he would get you one of those softer springtime bouquets, i feel like it just fits him more 

Zayne 

He is STRUGGLING 

I think he would ask the night before, asking if you'd like to go on a date since it is a special occasion

Based on his 100 days texts he seems like the type who even if it doesn't seem like it holds holidays like this in a surprisingly high regard. So i think he would ask if you would like to be his valentine 

Hehe milkshake date with zayne, one of the cute cheesy ones with the heart straws 

Big fan of the sweets, usually rejects any attempts to give him chocolates but for you he feels himself almost anticipating it, and when it happens he savors them throughout the day 

I think he'd be the type to give you those elegant single roses 

I can also see that he REALLY wanted to be your valentine as a kid, with those chalky candy hearts and little kid cards, he always got one frome you and he kept all of them. Unfortunately there was a dirty mutt preventing him from actually being your childhood valentine 

If you receive chocolate from some kind of admirer he is a little put off, something about it simmers under his skin just a little bit, fortunately this is an easily curd ailment- the prescription of course being 20 doses of kisses. 

Rafayel 

He's lowkey waiting for YOU to ask HIM to be your valentine.

 And he will be pouting about it 

Feel like we don't talk enough about how the little fishie is lowkey a bit scary?? He sees this as the inevitable, you are his, his valentine, his love, his bride 

His fishie <3

When one of you finally cracks and asks the other to be your valentine he is very pleased with himself. 

Long walk on the beach, picnic by the shore where the salty air can kiss your skin 

If you give him chocolate he is scarfing it down high key. Probably plays the weak frail card complaining about how his wrist hurts so clearly you have to feed him 

I can see him getting you those rainbow rose bouquets or one with lots of different colored roses to make a soft but colorful bouquet. 

Now if you received chocolate from an admirer he is pouting 

Whining frfr 

Type to go “oh why don't you go eat THEIR chocolate?” this will either last all of 5 seconds before he is switching it up and demanding kisses as repayment for emotional damages or until you don't give in (5 second max) and he's back to being dramatic 

Don't be shocked if they go missing tho 

Sylus 

Sylus does not simply ask for you to be his valentine, he woos you 

The month of february is his month to shine truly, because it starts small, subtle. 

A flower here and there, a single rose or a little heart 

It's a few days before valentines day and he's thoroughly romanced you when he pulls you close using his evol to ask if you'd like to be his valentine 

The day itself consists of you waking up, bed? Covered in rose petals. Sylus? Holding one of those really big heart shaped rose bouquets made of the glitter roses everyone went crazy for. Then dinner followed by a joyride 

Cough cough the biggest teddy bear he could find in white. 

If you give him chocolates he's sooooooo pleased. Savors them throughout the day and next day thinking about you 

Like i mentioned the rose bouquet game is top tier, his whole house is full of them, every vase full of those deep red roses because he wasn't you to look over and think of him.

Drives you to some obscure far out location to watch the stars for a while, the ride obviously enjoyable but even more so is being in his arms for such a tender moment. 

Now if you receive chocolate from someone he is so so smug, sylus gives off the vibes of like “hmm yes i know my kitten is the best, obviously they cant help but be charmed”  

Caleb 

Hs been your valentine every year since childhood (the dirty mutt in question)  

But this year is the first year he's really going to be your valentine, where he doesn't have to pretend like he doesn't mean it with his whole chest 

That isn't stopping him from teasing you, he wants to get you to admit that you want him to be your valentine

But he is a weak man, and he crumbles at the slightest hint of puppy eyes or pouting 

He is asking you on feb 1st 12:02am to be his valentine  

On the day itself he wakes you up with breakfast, heart shaped pancakes, eggs and your preferred protein 

Definitely writing something like “be mine?” on those pancakes 

I think the bouquet he gives you is a very classic one, roses and baby's breath tied with a silky red ribbon 

If you give him chocolate he is like a excited puppy, he's always given you the chocolate he gets from others, and he's always gotten chocolate from you but this time is special this time it's real 

A cute little day date around the city so he can show off that he won. And it includes those matching built a bear with the voice box. “I love you” “Miss me pipsqueak?” “i'll be home soon, love you” “*smooch smooch smooch smooch noise*” “i miss you so much y/n” for your bear and his has “i love you” “miss you so much caleb” “waiting for you at home, love you” “*smooch smooch smooch smooch*” “we’ll be together soon” and you best believe he is going to be taking that bear with him and playing those lines again and again 

If you get chocolate from someone else he is laughing on the outside but internally it's just “bomb them, keep bombing them-” if he's there when you get them he is absolutely standing behind you ominously to glare down the poor soul trying to shoot their shot. He spent your childhood puppy guarding you from elsa he is not losing now

[allertonhoe]

unbridled love - rafe cameron

chapter 1

summary: You end up taking a trip out to OBX to attend your estranged brother, John B's, wedding. You also happen to meet someone while you're there that you just can't seem to shake. (post-s3, if s4 didn't happen—all canon same except rafe & sarah get back in touch sooner … and no sofia technically lol).

content warnings: john b's sister!reader, original afab!reader, obx!universe, use of petnames (sweetheart, baby), kissing, 18+ MDNI - smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of being under the influence/consumption of alcohol, totally unrealistic love at first sight plot lol, a little mix of angst and fluff for valentines day 🥰🥰🥰

length: 3.2k

As excited as you were to be present to witness this milestone, you were nervous above anything else. You and John B had never been particularly close, the circumstances in which you'd met your half-brother not the most conventional either, but when has anything in your life been?

He'd reached out a couple of years ago, not having known he even existed prior to that point. The younger boy had been riddled with panic because your shared father had gone missing while on some sort of work excursion. That was the only other time you'd been in the Outer Banks.

You'd stayed with him for a few weeks, trying to get to know him and help him get some sort of balance in his life. The two of you finding out you weren't very alike despite being siblings, which ultimately resulted in you deciding to return home and letting him handle it all himself.

You only heard from him again months later, offering you an apology and an unbelievable story about his wild adventure looking for the same treasure that had once consumed your father. Having kept a distant but amicable relationship with him since then, which is why you were back on the island.

"I'm so glad you made it!" Sarah cheered as she ran up and engulfed you with a hug, your brother not far behind as you stepped off the ferry. "Now the wedding can officially start."

"I take it that you guys are ready for this?" You gush as they led you to the truck.

"Absolutely." Sarah proclaims, turning to your brother with a bright smile.

"Never been more sure about anything in my life." John B adds without delay, taking his bride-to-be's hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

As they drove you to your hotel, you watched the scenery pass through the window, becoming familiar with the small town once again. Catching up with the couple over mundane life stories, Sarah eventually changing the subject to gossip with you about final arrangements.

"I'm sure you're exhausted from travelling all day, and the weekend is pretty jam-packed, so we'll drop you off and let you chill tonight." Sarah explains. "Tomorrow, we're having a barbecue at the new Chateau for the wedding party, and then the rehearsal later on."

"Sounds good." you affirm, trying to absorb all the new information. "Is there anywhere around here for me to grab dinner?"

"The Wreck's nearby," John B suggests. "Kiara's parents own it. Food's pretty good."

"Did you want us to pick you up tomorrow morning?" Sarah extends graciously.

"I'm sure you have enough running around to do with final touches. I'll figure it out," you reassure them as they pulled up to an elegant hotel.

You thanked them again for picking you up from the dock, the couple helping you get your luggage from the van before finally bidding you goodbye and driving back off. Leaving you to enter the swanky lobby of one of the nicest resorts in Figure 8.

This was one of the things you didn't meet eye-to-eye with your brother on—having grown up in a much different tax bracket than he had. It was nothing close to the extravagance of the crowd that lived here, but the middle class was a life of luxury compared to what he experienced in The Cut.

By the time you'd checked in and gotten settled in your suite, you were starving. Looking up the place they'd told you about and deciding to walk over since it wasn't longer than a fifteen-minute journey. The trip there being much different than when you'd go to the bars at home, passing vast forests and being surrounded by the sounds of nature instead of honking horns.

The restaurant was bustling when you arrived, locals scattered around the beloved establishment as they kicked off their weekends. Spotting the bubbly brunette right as you wandered inside, assuming she was on the clock from the creased apron tied around her waist.

"Hey!" Kiara beamed as she came over, instantly recognizing you. "So good to see you! When did you get in?"

"A few hours ago."

"Came for a bite?" she correctly assumed. "Did you want a table, or did you just wanna sit at the bar? It's a lot less crowded over there."

"Whatever's easier for you guys," you tell her, blindly following as she took you into the busy area.

You sat at a long counter with rows of liquor bottles displayed behind it, assessing the array of options, impressed at the selection since it wasn't the busiest of towns. A bartender came to take your order, opting for a gin and tonic. When they brought it to you, however, a filled shot glass was also set alongside it.

"Oh, I didn't get this," you inform the employee.

"It's from him," they reply, nodding their head towards whoever they'd been referring to.

You prepared yourself to be confronted by some creepy old dude or dopey hick that you knew you'd need to outwardly turn down, but that wasn't how the culprit looked at all. If anything, there was a subtle familiarity about him even though you couldn't recall meeting him during your last visit. 

He was incredibly handsome and clearly ripped, despite the fact his arms were mostly hidden by the rolled up sleeves on his button-up shirt. Your brother had mentioned the deep-seated politics of the island—the distinct class divide—but there was no questioning that this guy was well-off. His style was preppy and clean, hair buzzed down and accentuating his sharp features even more.

Sending you a devilish smirk as he raised a shot identical to the one he sent to you like an indirect greeting, tossing it back with ease and swiftly meeting your gaze again. Immediately picking up that he had an edge to him, not missing how the other patrons had been giving him apprehensive looks as they passed by.

Your indifference didn't seem to discourage him at all as he sauntered your way about ten minutes later, his strong musk and overall presence hitting your senses and providing a different kind of intoxication. Not anticipating for him to tower over you like he did because of his large stature.

"Hey," he establishes, his voice more gruff than you'd expected. "You aren't from around here, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?" you quip back.

"Just know I would've remembered such a pretty face." He banters, scoffing at his cliché line even though it totally made you blush. "You here on vacation?"

"Something like that." You shrug, not wanting to expose too much to the unknown man, no matter how attractive he was.

"Yeah?" he notes curiously, taking a swig from his old fashioned. "Business or pleasure?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You avert, taking a sip from your own beverage, not having touched his initial offer yet.

"That is why I asked," he asserts, not making his interest in you a secret. "The least you could do is answer that for me. I did send over that shot."

"That I never asked you for, by the way." You flip back onto him, a little amused by his shameless flirting.

"Is it a crime to buy a beautiful girl a drink?" He grills, bringing his glass back to his lips, inadvertently glancing at them. Realizing he'd caught you when his cheeky grin grew even more. "Just trying to show some Southern hospitality, since you're from out of town and all."

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you finally took the small glass in your hand. Giving him one last pointed look as you knocked the tequila down your throat, feeling the alcohol burn through your body. You rested your elbows on the table, propping your face in your hands as you examined the cute stranger keeping you company.

"You're welcome," he teases lightly, inherently leaning closer.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, wiping off a drop that hadn't reached your mouth. A faint tingling erupting where his finger had barely caressed you. Popping it between his lips and sucking it suggestively, a dangerous glint sparkling in his gaze.

You were grateful when the server interrupted you, abruptly diverting the conversation and giving you the opportunity to order dinner like you'd originally gone there to do. You had no idea where this guy came from and why he was so infatuated with you, but you couldn't deny that you liked his unwavering attention. Even with his constant provoking.

"Two more, please," he sneaks in right at the last second, not letting you get any input.

This time, when the shots showed up, you decided not to stall. Rafe tapping his cup against yours before simultaneously tossing them back. The effects from your liquid courage giving you a surge of confidence in handling his magnetic charm.

"Got any more plans tonight?" He interrogates, still not letting up on his pursuit.

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?" You retort smartly.

"I doubt it." He remarks. Taking the opportunity to steal a french fry off your plate, tossing it in his mouth. "As a matter of fact, I have a feeling I might end up being involved."

"Oh yeah? Cocky much?" You sneer.

"You don't seem to mind," he observes, revealing you might not have been acting as sly as you thought. "Let me take you home," he deadpans out of seemingly nowhere. 

"Do you really think I'm just gonna leave the bar with a stranger in some random town I'm passing through?"

"Fine. I'm Rafe," he introduces smoothly. "Now we aren't strangers."

"Is this what you consider Southern hospitality?" you reference back to his earlier comment, getting a hearty laugh in return.

"Only the best, sweetheart," he persisted. "What do you say? It's getting late."

You pushed the remnants of your food around the plate as you contemplated your next move. On one hand, it's not like you'd never had a one-night stand, having dealt with your fair share of doting admirers. There was just something about this guy that you couldn't ignore, and you weren't sure if it was a good or bad thing.

"Just for, like, a drink or something..." you concede begrudgingly.

"Yeah. For sure." he concurs, not hiding the pride in his expression.

He took you back to his place at his insistence, boasting about how he resided at one of the biggest properties on the island, something he was not shy about showing off. The previously chatty man letting a thick silence fall between you after that, making you grateful that the drive wasn't too lengthy. 

You lounged on the passenger side of his Range Rover as he raced through the unfamiliar neighbourhoods. One of his hands clutching the top of his steering wheel with his other arm stretched across the back of your seat, his thumb brushing against your shoulder every so often.

And even with his exaggerated description of the house, that was still an understatement. Turning onto the long path, a huge manor sat at the top, surrounded by extensive acres of land. The car rolling up the steep hill and taking up the otherwise empty driveway. 

You hadn't expected him to jog to your side of the vehicle and open your door for you, his hand finding your lower back as he led you towards the home. Taking you inside and into the equally impressive kitchen, the counter in the middle of the room finally giving you some space from all his poking and proding. 

"How the hell did you score this place?" you investigate as he grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue, unable to hide your absolute awe for the lavish home.

"Uh... It was my dad's." he indicates somberly. "He left it to me when he died." he clarifies, tearing his focus from you for the first time that evening as he poured the whiskey.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry for asking." you apologize, although he didn't look particularly upset.

"Don't worry about it," he dismisses, feeling a discomfort rise as he poured out the gold-coloured liquid.

"Mine did too..." you disclose, not knowing how else to respond. "But we weren't super close."

"I get it." he acknowledges. "Didn't have the best relationship with mine."

"The house is a pretty sweet consolation," you ramble on. "And you live here, all by yourself?"

"Yeah..." he trails off, passing one of the half-filled cups to you.

His focus fell to the amber spirit, swirling it around as he contemplated how to proceed with your encounter. Sensing a palpable shift in his attitude after that. Not wanting to create any more awkward tension, you lifted the beverage in the air. Rafe following suit and clinking his against yours in ritual.

"To shitty, dead dads," you toast earnestly as Rafe brought the drink to his lips, choking slightly upon hearing your declaration. Noticing a sheepish grin appear through the crystal pattern on the glass as he went for another swig.

"So, what's your deal." he surveys, purposely changing the subject. 

"You really don't stop, huh?"

"Just making conversation. Unless you just wanted to get right down to it," he taunts.

"Is that how it usually goes for you?" you quiz.

"What do you think?" He throws back to you, not being subtle as his eyes dragged themselves down your body.

"I don't think I need to inflate your ego even more than it already is."

"You're acting like you don't want this as much as I do. You did agree to come back here with me, you know," he reminds playfully, raising his brow at you in challenge.

He topped up both of your cups, sauntering around the countertop so he was standing beside you again. Taking a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face and placing it behind your ear. An obvious move but still making your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You were already pretty tipsy leaving the restaurant, but the strong liquor quickly pushed you into drunk territory. Knowing your clouded mindset was due to all the alcohol but inwardly recognizing Rafe's effect on you wasn't just physical. Your head spinning just from the way he was staring at you.

"What?" you press, feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny. A bashful smile settling on Rafe's lips as he shook his head.

"I don't know... There's just something about you."

"Really, Rafe?" You sass, giggling at the vagueness of words. "How many girls have you used that line on?"

"You'd think more, but..." he falters, his brows furrowing in concentration. "Seriously, I have no idea. There's just something different about you."

He kept his hand on your chin, cradling your face upwards and cutting right to the chase. His other hand going to your waist, rubbing circles over the fabric of your shirt. His warm breath mixing with yours the closer he got, literally dangling what you wanted directly in front of you.

"Is this okay?" he whispered right as his lips ghosted yours, as if he was feeding you the question. Looking up at him wide-eyed, nodding because you couldn't form an answer at that point.

The kiss was initially slow and sensual, the two of you savoring the moment. A rush of heat passing through your body as he embraced you with a mix of caution and raw passion. Letting him maneuver you through the halls without breaking away from your kiss, both of you giggling drunkenly with every stumble or misstep.

He pinned you up against the wall, one of your legs instinctively lifting and wrapping itself around him. Leaning back on the hard surface for some sort of balance, your earlier skepticism having disappeared and turned into total hunger. Tasting the mix of booze on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth, Rafe swallowing every moan that escaped you.

"Jump," he instructs hoarsely, catching you without difficulty and carrying you up the grand staircase.

Once you hit his bedroom, all bets were off. Nudging him to lie back on his mattress, you straddled his waist as you continued making out. His hands grabbing your ass and prompting you to grind against him. Realizing in that moment that as easily as he'd gotten you to agree to come back here with him, he was unraveling twice as quick under your regard.

You gave him one last kiss, roaming further down his body, mirroring each other's fierce demeanor. Your fingers went to his waistband, removing his belt and undoing his pants, palming him over the fabric. Removing them with his boxers, you spat in your hand and started stroking him.

"Fuck," he groaned, mesmerized just at the sight of you.

You bent slightly forward, pouting your lips and dragging his glistening head against them, coating them with his precum. Finally taking him into your mouth and swirling your tongue around him. You hollowed out your cheeks to fit as much of him as you could, gagging lightly when he hit the back of your throat.

While you took your time getting used to his size, he wasn't as patient. Threading his fingers through your hair to gently guide you back and forth, craving some kind of relief. Grasping whatever you couldn't fit, letting him determine your rhythm. Your jaw feeling sore at his needy movements.

"Just like that, baby," he mutters, completely mesmerized by your skills.

You bobbed your head at his faint urging, his grip on your hair tightening as you swallowed around him. Pulling back to give yourself some air, focusing on his tip and spreading your saliva along his shaft. Watching his feral reactions through your lashes, unknowingly pushing him even more.

He started thrusting again when you could tell he was getting closer to his peak, his motions becoming frantic and desperate. With a few more pumps, his cum coated your throat, his head falling back as he reveled in the sensation. Looking absolutely blissed out as he rode out his high, brushing his fingers down the back of your head as you both caught your breath.

And it just picked up from there. It was explosive and fast and hot, neither of you making your desires a secret throughout the night. Rafe claiming dominance over you as if you'd known each other for years, picking up on your ticks and locating all your sweet spots without difficulty. Worshipping you and your body like it was the most magnificent thing he'd ever encountered.

You wanted to blame it on your intoxication, how enamored you felt over a man you'd only met hours ago and barely even spoke to properly. Boiling it down to pure lust, fundamentally knowing this was a one-time thing and that assuming otherwise was unrealistic.

When you finally heard his breathing still, indicating he'd fallen asleep, you decided to make your exit before you could be caught. Not wanting to deal with the post-hookup routine in the morning, especially when you'd have to spend the day with your brother, his fiancée, and their rowdy group of friends.

You knew the island wasn't huge, remembering how your brother was able to greet almost every person he'd pass by their first name. But you couldn't have guessed the predicament you'd just managed to accidentally get yourself into.

note: ahh i went so back and forth over actually posting this… love the concept but not super excited over what i actually wrote?? let me know if you guys like this, i probably will post the whole thing (it’s 4 parts!) just to get it all out lol but apologies in advance if there’s a bit of a delay 🙈 hope you guys like it!! always appreciate your support & msgs!! 💞💞

[universefcb]

Hi I love what you do could you do that hector is with the sister of marc guiu knowing very well that it's his little sister please

↬❥ Marc Guiu's sister

Hector Fort x Fem!Reader

sy: You and Hector have a multi-night stand, but she's the sister of one of his best friends. And you're insecure about it.

a/n: This request was made days ago, I just forgot to post it, sorry. And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

warnings: Conflicts, fights, kisses and a Hector crazy about the reader.

The Barcelona sun was beginning to set when Héctor Fort parked his car in front of Marc Guiu's house. He knew he was about to step onto dangerous ground, but he couldn't help himself. Not when it came to her.

You, Marc’s little sister, were everything Héctor knew he shouldn’t want, but at the same time, you were the only thing he could think about lately. They had known each other for years, but something between them had changed in the last few months. The way she looked at him, the way her smile seemed different when she was with him…

And it happened. Hector declared his love for her and they had a small, secret, non-serious relationship.

Marc had always been protective of the girl. Anyone at Barça knew that getting close to her was like signing a footballing death sentence. Marc would not tolerate any player approaching her with ulterior motives.

And Hector? Well, Héctor was one of Marc's best friends.

Still, there he was, knocking on the door of the Guiu house with his heart racing and his thoughts plunged into uncertainty.

The door opened, and it wasn't Marc who appeared, but HER. Her hair loose, her eyes shining with excitement, and that smile that always disarmed him.

“Héctor…” she said, surprised but clearly happy to see him.

“We need to talk,” he said, looking around to make sure Marc wasn’t around.

She looked inside the house before leaving, closing the door behind her.

“What is it?” she asked, crossing her arms, but with an amused tone in her voice.

“This has to stop.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “Marc will kill me if he finds out.”

She laughed.

“Are you afraid of my brother now, Héctor?” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s not a matter of fear, y/n. It’s respect. He trusts me. If he finds out that I’m… that we’re…”

“What are we?” she teased, tilting her head.

“That I am completely in love with you.”

Her expression softened. The playfulness in her eyes gave way to something deeper.

"Hector…"

He sighed, stepping closer.

“I can’t help it. I tried to ignore it, I tried to walk away, but when I’m with you… it feels like nothing else matters.”

“What if Marc finds out?” She bit her lip, hesitant.

“I don’t know. But I’m willing to take the risk.” Héctor held her hand firmly.

For a moment, silence fell between the two. Then, Sofia smiled.

“Then I think we’ve taken too long to do this.”

And without thinking twice, she approached, joining her lips to his. Héctor felt a shock run through his body, but the moment he hugged her, he knew he was lost.

If that was a mistake, it was one he would make again and again. Now, all that was left to do was find out how long they had until Marc Guiu found out. After they walked away, she gave him an awkward smile and wiped her mouth, watching him do the same. They went inside the house as if nothing had happened and Marc went downstairs.

“Hi, you didn’t tell me you were coming.” He crossed his arms, following his sister with his gaze until she disappeared into the kitchen.

“I was nearby and decided to stop by.”

You and Hector knew you were playing with fire, but that only made it all the more intense. The kiss from that night was still burning in both of your minds, and every secret look you exchanged, every discreet touch when no one was looking, only made it harder to keep it all hidden.

But the inevitable happened faster than they imagined.

Marc Guiu may be a great striker on the pitch, but off it he was also very clever. And nothing went unnoticed by him, especially when it came to his sister. And it was in a Barcelona training session that everything started to come together.

Héctor was in the locker room when he felt a shadow hovering over him. He looked up to find Marc standing with his arms crossed, his gaze hard and cold.

“I need to talk to you,” Marc said, his voice tense.

The entire locker room fell silent. The other players exchanged glances, sensing the tension in the air. With no other option, Héctor stood up and followed Marc into a more secluded hallway.

The attacker suddenly turned, his gaze fierce.

“Are you dating my sister?” Héctor froze.

He could lie. He could say that Marc was imagining things, that there was nothing between him and you but friendship. But something inside him refused to do that. He took a deep breath and held Marc's gaze.

"Yes." Marc's face turned red in an instant.

“Are you kidding me, Fort?”

“I’m not! And I know I should have told you sooner, but–

Before he could finish his sentence, he felt a strong push in his chest.

“You’re my best friend!” Marc growled. “How dare you?

“Because I like her, Marc. A lot!” Héctor didn’t back down.

“Marc!” You crossed the hall, quickly going to them, taking Marc’s hands off Hector. “Please, no.

She stood in front of Hector as she looked at her brother.

Silence fell between them. Marc’s chest rose and fell, his anger evident. But he knew Héctor. He knew his friend wasn’t the type to play with someone’s feelings.

“If you hurt my sister…” Marc clenched his fists.

“I would never do that!” he grabbed her shoulders.

The two's eyes faced each other for a few more seconds, until Marc let out a long sigh and turned his back.

“It’s going to take me a while to get used to this,” he said, before leaving without looking back.

You sighed, turning to Hector, analyzing every inch of his face.

“I’ll talk to him later. Are you okay?” Her hands cupped his face.

“I guess we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now.” He smiled, moving his hands down to her waist.

“You’re hopeless, aren’t you?” he laughed, feeling kisses being placed on his face.

[bayoubashsims]

it seems your plantation lot has caused some controversy😵 I know your username has bayou in it but I'm still curious why you made a playable plantation for the game

Background

Hi anon and everyone, I wanted to address some comments regarding my post about creating a plantation in The Sims 2. This construction was based on the Felicity Plantation which was featured in The Skeleton Key, and I posted about this months ago--it's the same building, but in a different hood.

I was cautious about how it would be perceived as I only know two other people who recently made plantation-themed builds: BourgeoisBanana who was criticized for making the one from Django Unchained and there was also luvsimskaos who made historical depictions of a plantation to talk about history and life as enslaved people.

I am also not ignorant of plantations and their history with racism. I am Indonesian and it was only 80 years ago my own country was independent from being colonized by the Dutch and we too had plantations, indentured servitude, and enslaved people (though clearly not in the same extent as the Atlantic Slave Trade). American history is no stranger to us in the third world as everything that is American affects us culturally and politically.

If you see from some of my Indonesian builds, many of them are buildings from the colonial times in Indonesia and it was not to glorify their imperialism over the socioeconomic structures of Indonesia or to romanticize them in any way, but to recognize its part in history as well as the architecture of the structures that remain today. Many of them today are museums and galleries that remind us of what those structures were built on.

My re-creation of a plantation that was historically used to profit off the labor and wellbeing of enslaved people was not to glorify that or to even fantasize slavery to exist within The Sims. My intention was to appreciate American culture and history, specifically on the architectural aspect.

In The Sims

I am well aware that the estate of the real Felicity Plantation still have the residential quarters of the enslaved people, which is why I did not choose to recreate those structures as Sims history, despite its many similarities with American culture and history, does not share that part of history. Nor do I wish to recreate slavery in my game.

I’m a strong proponent of not forgetting histories by whitewashing them and I am mindful that, by choosing to exclude them in my game that the real basis had quarters for enslaved people, that, it would be the best option. Or perhaps, it could be whitewashing it, but the alternative is certainly not ideal. I don’t know, I’m open to how others view and think of it.

There was this Reddit thread that discussed about the word ‘plantation’ and I’ll post some screenshots on what other Simmers have said about it.

Though I know I took the basis of the structure from American history, there are plantations all over the world that did not use slavery or exploitation for them to run (well, capitalism still exists, but that’s another can of worms), and that’s applied here. Though I didn’t elaborate on it, historically, the building that I created does not share the same history. It just happens to be inspired based on the period architecture.

My construction of the building was only to show my appreciation of the architecture, my fascination with American culture and history, and my love for The Sims and horror films like The Skeleton Key. I also recreate many structures from Louisiana, like the shotgun houses and the French Quarter townhouses, all of which are also part of that history.

My neighborhood itself is a re-creation and tribute to the culture of Louisiana and New Orleans and I just wanted to be as accurate as possible. I didn’t set out nor did I intend to ‘fantasize slavery in The Sims.

My Context

The structures of such plantations also mirror many colonial Indonesian houses (which explains my interest), and today we Indonesians appreciate these 'heritage' houses while also being mindful of their histories and how they were built on the sweat and blood of colonized peoples. That is all I thought I was doing and I am coming from that point of perspective.

Many colonized nations of the third world would say the same regarding similar structures in their own countries; appreciate them as works of art and preserve them as a part of history, but no need to romanticize or glorify them as parts of darker aspects of history.

However, I am also aware that plantations are a sensitive issue in the US. I know people who are criticized for having weddings in plantation estates, because though they think they only show appreciation for history by throwing events there, for many other people especially African-Americans (some of whom could be guests or workers at that wedding), that history meant actual horror, on grounds and structure that subjected real people to unimaginable things.

So I understand how some people might feel about such a structure in The Sims, but I don't, to my knowledge, feel that these two things are the same. Willow Creek in TS4 as well as Old Town in TS1 all pay tribute to the rich history of Louisiana in their own ways; how appropriately and accurately they paid that tribute is another matter, but I was just , as a foreigner, playing along with that theme with no ill intent.

Though it is not comparable, Indonesians were subjected to similar horrors and I live in a society where, like Americans, many still remember what the past was like and are still affected by it. However, I thought that by re-creating the building on The Sims 2 merely on the basis of appreciating American architecture and history and a horror movie that I liked, in a game that only I’d play, that I wouldn’t be really doing anything materially harmful.

I’m open to listening and learning more on this issue, especially from Americans (considering how I took a part of American history by creating this), but…I would venture so far as to say not everything has to be from an American-centric view. And I say that, again, while still being mindful of how actual Americans who are affected by this part of history think of a plantation structure being reproduced in a game.

If anybody re-created a colonial Indonesian structure, most Indonesians would appreciate that they paid attention to the architecture and history of such buildings, and I wouldn’t say anything else unless there was explicit glorification or recreation of the more problematic parts of history.

This is my view of the issue. I apologize that I’ve created and shared something that is offensive, it’s the last thing I want to do here (genuinely surprised because I’ve always been kind of laying low and chill on this platform 😅), though I think the criticism is valid and I understand where it’s coming from. I am the last person to have malicious intent and neither am I ignorant of the context--but I could be better informed.

References

Below are my references regarding the portrayal of plantation houses in historic and aesthetic terms as well as the reactions to portayals such as that:

Dahm, K. (2013). " To Preserve, Protect, and Pass On:" Shirley Plantation as a Historic House Museum, 1894–2013.

de la Torre, O. (2022). The well that wept blood: Ghostlore, haunted waterscapes, and the politics of Quilombo blackness in Amazonia (Brazil). The American Historical Review, 127(4), 1635-1658.

Locke, H. J., & Mackay, T. A. (2021). “You Are a True Progressive”: Red Dead Redemption 2 and the Depiction and Reception of Progressive Era Politics. The Journal of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era, 20(1), 174-193.

Phillips, A. (2022). Fixing the Past: Memory Tourism, Multiraciality, and White Innocence in Video Games. ROMchip, 4(1).

Smith, M. P. (2018). " Ridiculous Extremes": Historical Accuracy, Gone With the Wind, and the Role of Beauty in Plantation Tourism. The Southern Quarterly, 55(2), 171-190.

Walcott-Wilson, E. J. (2020). Cultivating Memoryscapes: The Politics of Language at Plantation House Museums in the American South. Handbook of the Changing World Language Map, 901-913.

[adddddiiii]

Crimson Eclipse

3. No Safe Haven

It had been several hours since you crashed at Sofie’s place, and the tension hadn’t eased for a second. Every flicker of a shadow or unexpected sound made your pulse jump. You were still hunched over your laptop, fingers gliding across the keys as you scanned encrypted data from the drive.

"Are you ever going to sleep?" Sofie asked from the couch. She was watching you with growing concern.

"Can’t afford to," you muttered. "Not when Serpentis is probably watching every corner of this city for me. Also I need to meet him at midnight."

You both knew very well who he was.

Sofie sighed. "So are you finally going to tell me how you got into this mess in the first place?"

You leaned back and rubbed your tired eyes.

"I was hired," you admitted quietly. "Some anonymous buyer reached out. Big money to lift encrypted files from a secure server. I didn’t ask too many questions. I just… needed the cash."

"But?" Sofie prompted.

"But when I grabbed the files and went to the meet-up spot a few hours ago, no one showed. Except Red Hood," you explained. "That’s when I knew I was in trouble. And then, well, we both saw what was on the drive."

Sofie's brows furrowed. "Right... what exactly is on it, other than the shady military stuff?

You hesitated. "Lots of stuff. Shipment routes, blackmail material, bribery logs. But the worst part? Names."

Her eyes widened. "Names?"

You nodded grimly. "Of Serpentis operatives. Safehouses. Transactions. Some more clues and evidence, and it would be enough to tear them down. No wonder they want me dead."

Sofie whistled softly. "So what does Red Hood have to do with all this?"

You shook your head. "Maybe the usual vigilante stuff, I don’t know. But I’m going to find out."

——————————————————————

You found yourself at Dock 17 later that night, the salty sea breeze biting at your skin. The docks were nearly deserted, save for the occasional distant hum of a ship’s engine. You clutched the flash drive tightly in your pocket, scanning the shadows for any sign of him.

"You’re late."

The voice came from behind you. You spun around, heart racing, and there he was — Red Hood, perched on a stack of shipping crates, arms crossed over his chest.

"You said midnight. It’s a minute past twelve," you shot back.

He chuckled softly under the modulated mask. "Still late."

You crossed your arms, trying to mask your nervousness. "Why did you want to meet?"

Red Hood jumped down gracefully, landing just a few feet from you. "Because you’re in deeper than you think."

"Yeah, I got that when you said I couldn't go to my own home," you retorted.

He tilted his head. "There’s a bounty on you."

Your stomach dropped. "What?"

"Serpentis put a price on your head. Alive or dead, doesn’t matter. And trust me, there’s a long line of people ready to collect."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Why are you telling me this?"

He sighed, and lowered his voice slightly. "Because I know what Serpentis is capable of. I’ve been after them for months, trying to dismantle their operations. They’re dangerous, and now they’re coming for you."

"So what? You’re offering me protection out of the goodness of your heart?" you scoffed. You were way past caring about what he would to you if he heard the challenge in your voice. He did say he wouldn't hurt you. Didn't he?

"No," he replied bluntly. "I’m offering you a deal. You help me bring them down, and I’ll make sure you survive long enough to see it happen."

"And if I say no?"

"You won't last the week."

You hated that he was right.

Hesitantly, you admitted, "Even if I wanted to lie low, I don’t have anywhere safe to go anymore. You said I can't go to my home, so I went to a friend's place. I don't want to put her in any more danger."

There was a pause. Red Hood’s stance shifted, the silence stretching uncomfortably long.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

You blinked in surprise as he ran a gloved hand over the dented surface of his helmet.

"Fine," he said, almost reluctantly. "You stay at my place. Temporary. Don’t get comfortable."

"What?!" Your eyes widened. "Why would I stay with you. I would rather die!"

"Be my guest," he grunted out.

You chewed your lip for a moment, contemplating. You didn't actually want to die. And staying with him wouldn't be so bad, right?

You sighed. "You’re serious?"

"No," he deadpanned. "I just like saying things for dramatic effect. Yes, I’m serious."

You huffed out a small laugh, despite yourself. "Wow. Charming."

"I’m not doing this for brownie points," he replied flatly. "Let’s go before I change my mind."

As you followed him into the night, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had just made a deal with the devil — or the only person who could save you from one.

< prev |

Taglist: @uncalicous @a-lil-bit-nuts @celloccino @treeteaofversailles @promnightbinbaby @theroyalmanatee @rowannin @bungunz

[mandoriana]

One day, Obi-Wan and Anakin take Ahsoka and the clones to Dex's Diner, and one of the clones starts crying while drinking.

Obi-Wan: Five, what's the matter, friend?

Five: My boyfriend left me, General 😭

Anakin: Oh, buddy, don't cry, sometimes bad things happen for a good reason. Did this happen recently? Is that why you're crying?

Five: No, General.

Anakin: Wow, but if it was a long time ago, why are you still crying? Good grief, how long has it been?

Five: It was in March, sir. 😢

Anakin: Damn, he must have been really good for you to be suffering this much until now!

*Obi-Wan nudges Anakin to make him shut up*: And were you guys seriously dating?

Five: Yes, General.

*Anakin serves two mugs of drink for Five, Obi-Wan, and himself*

Obi-Wan: Wow, how long?

Five: We were together for about 2 years.

Anakin: 2 years! And you haven't dated anyone else since he broke up with you?

Five: No.

Anakin: And didn't even want to try again?

Five: No. 🥺

Anakin: Come on, Five, he didn't deserve you.

Obi-Wan: Why did this happen? Did he give you a good reason, at least?

Five *shakes his head*: He said I was overweight.

*The other clones fall silent, indignant*

Cody: That jerk called you fat, brother!?

Anakin *also indignant*: That son of a bitch! And you're sad about him!?

*Obi-Wan tries to pull Anakin to sit down and calm down*

Obi-Wan: Dear, sit down...

Anakin: Seriously, screw that guy, Five, you should be happy you got rid of that trash! *turns to Ahsoka and the clones* Right, boys?

Ahsoka and Clones: Yesssss!

Anakin: See? The boys are on your side, Five!

Ahsoka *laughing*: You guys just came to drink, Master, and now you're doing couples therapy 😂

Anakin: Take notes, Ahsoka, soon you'll learn that gossip connects you with your men. After all, what is a general without a special connection with his friends and soldiers, right boys?

Clones: YESSSS!

Anakin: See? 🤣

*Obi-Wan rolls his eyes affectionately at Anakin and turns back to Five*

Obi-Wan: So, Five, doesn't your ex-boyfriend have any friends? You know, for you to get with one of them and make him jealous?

*Anakin turns to Obi-Wan, shocked, and Ahsoka gets excited to speak too*

Ahsoka: Yes! You need to forget this guy. I mean, you've been upset for... *doing mental math* 25 months already!

*Anakin and Obi-Wan look disbelievingly at Ahsoka for getting the math wrong*

Anakin: 25 months, Snips? 🤔

Ahsoka *ignores her master*: Do you still see him?

Five: Yes.

Ahsoka: Great.

Five: He is my neighbor.

Obi-Wan: Even better! Are you neighbors?

Five: Yes, General, we live in the temple, he is one of the Jedi.

*Obi-Wan nods wisely*

Anakin: Wow, Five, you need to get with someone and moan loudly as soon as possible. Right, boys? 😏

Clones: Yessssss!

Ahsoka: And you, Cody, I know you're Five's friend. Why don't you help him out?

Cody: I tried, Commander.

Anakin: Do you know his ex-boyfriend?

Cody: Yes.

Obi-Wan: Was he a jerk?

Cody: Very much.

Obi-Wan: Was the way he treated Five a surprise to you or not?

Cody: Not at all, General.

Anakin: Of course, everyone expected it, except you, right, Five?

*Five drinks his drink and dramatically bangs his head on the counter*

Five: Not everyone can have the perfect relationship like you and Obi-Wan, General 🥺

*Anakin and Obi-Wan stare at each other, surprised*

Anakin: Are we in a relationship?

Obi-Wan: Maybe, but I'm not sure. I think I just found out.

Clones and Ahsoka: 🤣🤣🤣

[cokoweee]

COKO.

As SOON as I saw so many people freaking out about your newest update I KNEW this was going to be a GOOD one~

Broooo I was NOT WRONG.

Let’s begin. :)

The biggest question tumbling around in my mind like a drunk hummingbird is… Why Raph? Why is Kendra having a dream positioned in Raph’s room? The first thing that comes to mind is the fact that Raph’s spirit is the only one Kendra has seen so far- not only seen, but SPOKEN to. And ever since their chat at that lake, Kendra has had a stronger connection to Donnie. (I don’t just mean feelings or emotions). After her and Raph’s talk, Donnie has his freak out moment in the barn. MILES away. And yet, Kendra could sense that something was WRONG.

As someone with three older siblings I can tell you right now that they have an INSTINCT to sense danger/discomfort to their younger sibs. Raph was no different. And I wonder… after their little chat… If he passed some of that to Kendra. Just the sense, the instinct that connects her further to the Hamatos and to Donnie.

Raph wasn’t just some spirit to her- He was slowly becoming like family- her own older brother. Which I think is why when she sees his sais on the ground, that she reaches out to them. Almost as if they radiate with familial warmth and safety. Something… Kendra probably hasn’t felt all that much. So she reaches out.

And then THIS HAPPENS-

Something within her, (whether that be physically, mentally, or spiritually), FORCES her away from Raph’s sais. Pulls her away. Distracts her. It looks as if the inside of her skin is boiling and itching- forcing her to react by trying to claw it out.

And WHAT color is this sensation? This poison coursing through her veins? PINK. The same hue of the sickeningly, vibrant drink that she had five too many of at the party.

(I FRIGGIN KNEW THAT JUICE WAS BAD NEWS FJWIHCIWICJS)

As Kendra begins to panic in the dream, her breaths becoming shorter and more choked, two hands slither out of the darkness and cling to her wrists. As she looks up, trying to decipher who it is that’s attacking her, we get this nightmare fuel. 0-0

Do yall remember what Kendra said at the party to Donnie? “That woman is an eldritch horror. She could peel me open like a grape.” Or something to that effect.. THIS image- the seven eyes compared to the one- looks to me like Big Mama right in the middle of transforming into her true spider form.

Poor Kendra ain’t never gonna sleep again. 0.0

Then just as the nightmare begins to climax into a full on horror show- She is awoken by Donnie calling out her name and holding her.

And once again, Donnie used her FULL name. Not a nickname- He’s SERIOUS right now. He’s WORRIED. He wants her to be okay. And however tiny it is- Kendra shakily replies with “Tello?” Not a full name, but certainly not a hurtful nickname like she’s quite used to calling him.

Here is one of my FAVORITE details of this update: How the colors return and fade with specific words. Here we see Donnie saying he was just going to wake her up- but then the word “gentler” becomes his inner purple. His soul’s hue. The color of his ninpo and his heart. 💜 If this were Donnie from weeks ago, he would’ve stopped at “I was going to just wake you up.” But things have changed since then, hmm? ;)

(Also HUUUUUBOI KENDRA MUST LOOK RED AS A TOMATO WITH DONNIE HOVERING OVER HER LIKE THAT HHOOOWEEEE)

Here again we see the effects of color in the dialogue being used. At first, Kendra is speaking as herself, openly, admitting to Donnie that she had a nightmare.

And then as soon as Donnie begins to say her full name again, with worry and tenderness swelling within the violet hue, Kendra’s words become colorless again. Empty. Devoid of emotion. (Or at least fighting to be.)

Then there’s THIS LIL NUMBER- And now I need to go and review all the past panels to see how long that scar has been there- heheh I shall return in a month’s time.

Kendra begins to get up, (much to the chagrin of worrying Donnie), and she says this. “I’d like to have some dignity left and not have you watch me struggle.”

SWEETY. Kendra. Darling. BOTH you and Donnie have had front row seats to each other’s struggles; dignity isn’t part of the equation anymore when it comes to loving others and being there for them. 💜 🩷

AGAIN- Donnie says her full name. And this is after he has fought within his ever-computing brain and the sounds of his brothers’ spirits shouting at him to “ASK HER!!” Finally he succumbs, but man alive is he scared to hear her answer. As he mentally and emotionally grounded himself for the worst, he covers his face with his hand. (Something to somewhat protect him from what he thinks is coming and the shame that will flood down with it.)

He asks the big question all of us are PLEADING to hear the answer to.

Now Donnie is completely slumped over, his hair a mess, and his tail protectively wrapped around his thigh. He’s absolutely terrified.

And here we see the colors shift in his dialogue again. Purple is BARELY present- FIGHTING to be seen compared to the all-consuming grey bleeding in.

Donnie’s trying to be the way he was before so he won’t get hurt: apathetic. Unaffected. Unfeeling. This was always how he reacted to emotional pain and things of the unknown. And right now, he’s so unsure of himself that he is thrusting himself back seven steps in his healing to somewhere where he thinks is more comfortable; Somewhere where he thinks he has control.

And what does Kendra say? What is her response?

She remembers- THANK THE MERCIFUL HEAVENS SHE REMEMBERS!!! But she, like Donatello, is resorting to the easier, less complicated, less painful option: apathy. Denial. Fantasy.

And poor Donnie’s face here… Even while fighting his emotions he’s still losing to them. Horror mixed with unrelenting sadness is consuming him.

Because he was right. Why… would she ever love him?

COKO YOU INCREDIBLE NUTJOB. This was- THIS WAS- Just-

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

Incredible. Absolutely incredible. You did amazing. Holy crap. Make sure to drink water and go say hi to the sun sometimesssss~ Thank you for your story. I hope you had fun making it and driving all your fans batty with everything you hide in it. 🤣

Have a glorious day. :)

~ Melissa

I and WELDING MY BRAIN SHUT on that first half. I gotta. I can’t slap to much down or else I lose my brain hype to do the next update😤😤😤 I just wanna ✍️✍️✍️✍️

AUUGG MAN U REALLY WENT AT THIS UPDATE.third time someone’s brought up the scar and imma just sayyyyy…it’s been there for awhile. Tho it may have changed a bit.

Back to square one with these two. Or maybe not? Lot of squares left to be colored in yknow? AUGGHG I NEED TO

I NEED TO DRAW BUT JUST WRATATSTARRARARARARARR

[rubyvhs]

running up that hill [ s. winchester ]

— day 1

summary: you make a deal to get sam back.

“Oh my God.” Sam coughs as he sits up. Dean, who hadn’t left his place next to his brother in days, runs over. His eyes wide and heart thrumming against his chest.

You knock on the front door before running in and there he is. Sam Winchester, alive only days after he was stabbed in the back.

“Sam…” You breathe out and both brothers look at you. Dean’s glare burns through you but you ignore him to run into Sam’s arms. He’s a bit confused but his grip around you is tight either way. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“What, what happened?” His voice is so much rougher than it usually is and you can’t help but feel tears running down your cheek. You ignore the question and go get a glass of water. Surely Dean won’t tell him anything, right? He doesn’t know much anyway since the deal just finalised twenty minutes ago.

The water helps, he clears his throat and though it’s still a little raspy, his voice is better. You sit next to him on the godforsaken table Dean had him sleeping on. Dean didn’t even give you hope that you guys would move on from Sam’s death, he kept him right next to him, wouldn’t leave for more than a bathroom trip, and wouldn’t accept burning him— or even a damn burial.

It made you feel alone, so you brought back the only person who’s ever truly understood you.

Dean lets Sam go to the other room to change into clean clothes before he grabs your arm harshly. “What’s wrong with you, huh? What the hell did you do?”

You frown, taking your arm back to cross them in front of your chest. “I did what you would’ve done. It’s fine.”

“It’s anything but fine—”

“Is everything okay?” Sam asks from the doorway and you both nod quickly. “Okay then we should go to Bobby’s, I don’t know what we’re doing in this dump anyway. We need to find out why yellow eyes wanted all of us.”

Right, yeah, that’s what you should do. You should also probably let them know you have six months left.

[mariacallous]

The thing about the takeover of key US government institutions by the world’s richest man and his strike force of former interns is that it’s happening so fast.

It’s been three weeks since Elon Musk’s agents took over the government’s IT and HR departments. Since then, the movements of his so-called Department of Government Efficiency have had the cartography of a horror movie, DOGE picking off agencies one by one based on slasher logic, feeding an unslakeable thirst for cost-cutting and data.

Every day brings fresh incursions. Three weeks ago the United States believed in humanitarian aid. It helped people who had been ripped off by big corporations. It funded the infrastructure necessary to make America a beacon of scientific innovation. Now the United States Agency for International Development is gutted, the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau is on ice, and National Institutes of Health grants are handcuffed. So much for all that.

These are spreadsheet cruelties, executed with a click. The loss of real peoples’ jobs and lives—yes, despite what X-famous conspiracy theorists will tell you, USAID saved lives—all immaterial compared to the pursuit of a tighter balance sheet.

Three weeks ago, a 19-year-old who calls himself “Big Balls” online didn’t have access to government personnel records and more. A 25-year-old with a closet full of racist tweets hadn’t gotten the keys to Treasury systems that pay out $5.45 trillion each year. Elon Musk hadn’t turned the Oval Office into a romper room for his 4-year-old son.

The speed is strategy, of course, flooding the zone so that neither the media nor the courts can keep pace. Lawsuits and court orders move on a different timescale than this slash-and-burn approach. (At this pace, DOGE will have tapped into every last government server long before the Supreme Court even has a chance to weigh in.) But it’s also reflexive. The first order of business in a corporate takeover is to slash costs as quickly as possible. If you can’t fire people, offer them buyouts. If they won’t take the buyouts, find a way to fire them anyway. Keep cutting until you hit bone.

This is how you get an executive order declaring that “each agency hire no more than one employee for every four employees that depart,” an arbitrary ratio with no regard for actual staffing needs. It’s how you get hundreds of federal government buildings on the auction block no matter how fully occupied they are. It’s both extreme and ill-considered, a race to empty the town’s only well.

And then … what? This is the question that Elon Musk and DOGE have failed to answer, because there is no answer. Does the United States government need to become a profit engine? To return shareholder value? Does Medicaid need to demonstrate a product-market fit in time for the next funding round?

This is consultant logic. This is an engineering sprint whose inevitable finish line is the unwinding of the social contract. Democracy doesn’t die in darkness after all; it dies in JIRA tickets filed by Palantir alums.

It’s somehow even worse than that, though. Suppose you take this whole enterprise at face value, that the United States should go through the private equity ringer. It does not take a Stanford MBA to know that cutting expenses only helps half of your profit and loss statement. Any serious attempt to treat the US like a business would involve increasing revenues. So where are the taxes? And why demolish the CFPB, which has paid out over $20 billion to US citizens—shareholders, if you will—through its enforcement actions?

In the coming weeks and months, as this farce continues to unfurl, remember that the goal of most acquisitions is not to benefit the acquired. It is to either subsume or discard, whichever generates the highest return.

Elon Musk’s unprecedented influence over the executive branch will ultimately benefit Elon Musk. The employees in charge are his employees. The data DOGE collects, the procurement contracts they oversee, it all flows up to him.

And it’s flowing too quickly to keep up with, much less to stop.

[riacte]

I feel like I learned a lot about storytelling + "marketing" a story from Webtoon (the Webtoon from a few years ago when it was still decent). The way it worked was that 1) story blurb to draw in people 2) three initial episodes to get people invested 3) one episode per week. It showed the strength of a strong summary with a genre but without trope tags (unlike fanfiction) or describing your work as abc meets xyz (which seems to be what YA publishing does nowadays?). The three initial episodes introduces tone, artstyle, main characters, main plot, basic worldbuilding, and is supposed to quickly "hook" the reader. I like the format of three initial episodes (instead of one) because the first episode is usually different (given its main purpose is to grab the attention of new people), the other two gives you a taste of what a "standard weekly update" might contain.

I feel a lot of Webtoons start with a strong premise/ gimmick/ hook but they don't know what to do with it. And that's totally normal because some premises are better when shrouded in mystery and you have to do the hard work of explaining the mystery. I've read Webtoons that start with one premise, then it gets sidelined in the middle as new themes develop, and in the end you realise the "premise" was a marketing tactic to draw people in and the story is about something else entirely, but you stayed because it was still a good story, and you have no complaints. (Eg. I think people step into I Love Yoo thinking it's a romance, and the first bits do seem like a set up for romance, but it turns out the genre is drama and the romance is a slooooooow burn.) I've read Webtoons that start with one interesting premise, then it fizzles away and turns into a rather standard story for its genre to the point the hook is barely relevant when it was what made it stand out. And on the rare occasion you will find a Webtoon that has its premise, develops the plot from there, sticks with its themes, and the ending is thematically resonant. (I think Cursed Princess Club does a good job at this.) But it's difficult to craft a very consistent and coherent story (especially given the serial format), so it's fine to just kinda sideline or even ditch your premise so long the actual main plot is solid. Your premise is what initially got people reading, but they'll get invested in other things. Maybe you even have to manually create a hook and get into the meat later once your readers are properly invested. But I feel most of the time it's otherwise because you can get a really cool idea but NO CLUE on how to end it and it sucks because either you drag on or give it an unsatisfactory ending. The good thing is that you get a "buffer zone" in which readers are still interested in reading due to the premise/hook and you get the time to properly work things out.

So I don't think a premise has to be completely executed and explained in order for a story to be compelling. If it does its job of bringing in new folks and convincing them to stay long enough to get invested in style/tone/plot/characters/relationships/whatever, sometimes it's easier to let the premise go. Sometimes you want a tonal shift. But at the same time, a premise is so useful for marketing purposes. You can talk about what tropes it has and what media it's influenced by, but what is the story actually about?

[lazycranberrydoodles]

woe mundane monopoly headcanons be upon ye

follow for more of modern au hua cheng’s outfits

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Had to explain to a friend today that No Really I Swear Magneto And Professor X Are Friends And Like Each Other Thats Canon And Real

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[mabaris]

i will say it Sure Is Interesting that i remember people making a big fuss over whether they would know or could decide in-game whether their elves were from an alienage/dalish/etc and the devs were quick to reassure people that had been taken into consideration.

but there doesn’t seem to have been any equivalent for a dwarf rook

[biblically-accurate-dca]

KILL!!!!!!!!!

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

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