#its the statue that you install in your house :)

[ronniesssss]

watercolor study of the Goddess Statue from Tears of the Kingdom

#its the statue that you install in your house :) #mayhaps i do a few more. the statues all look so cute #tears of the kingdom #totk #tloz #watercolor

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley.

Simon Riley masterlist

1. First off he hates the word ‘boyfriend’.

Maybe it’s because he’s in his mid thirties or something but he can’t stand being called your boyfriend. He’s more than that but also not at the same time. You live together, have access to each other’s bank accounts (which is only because he hates it when you try to fight him about him giving you money), and you’re each others emergency contact. He thinks of himself as your husband. The man wears a silicone ring when he’s home and a necklace with the ring that’s totally not a wedding band when he’s working. Price has seen the chain once or twice and smirks, shooting him a knowing look but never says a word.

Simon cannot stand it when people get nosy and want to know what your relationship status is. You’re together and that’s all that matters. No one needs to know that you’re the beneficiary of his will and life insurance policy or that he’s put you on all of his accounts. No one needs to know that he buys you anything you want but has only ever bought you two rings; a thin gold band with a flower engraved on it and its twin a matching emerald ring. No one needs to know that when he gifted them to you, there were tears and promises of safety, love, and happiness whispered against feverish skin. No one needs to know that he has your name woven into his chest tattoo.

No one needs to know any of that because your relationship is between him and you only.

2. You are not some submissive little house wife. You are a strong independent woman and he prefers it that way.

I know this one goes against what most people say but hear me out on this. Simon has been independent since birth practically. He’s only had himself to count on for years. Even in the military, he’s only been able to rely himself. Sure the others watch out for him but if it came down to it, he’s the only one who’s going to get himself out alive.

The thought of someone else relying on him in that way is terrifying. He can’t even fathom what it would be like to look at another person and fully trust them in that way. Half the time he feels like he can’t even be trusted to take care of himself let alone another human. In theory a sweet docile housewife is great with the meals and clean house but not for him. He needs to know that you can hold your own. He needs to know that you can be independent and carry on without him if something happened while he was working. He needs to know that you will be okay if he doesn’t come back.

You have to be okay without him no matter how much it pains him to think about it.

Like I said before, he’s made you the beneficiary of everything so he knows you’ll be set financially but that’s not enough. He’s made Price promise to keep an eye out for you. He’s made you promise to let Price do that and you agreed because it’s Simon who’s asking but you’d tell anyone else to fuck off.

In addition to all of that, he’s installed the best security system the government has to offer in your house. You have a very expensive and large safe in your shared closet that he’s instructed you to only open if you feel unsafe. While you might not like it, you agree to go shooting with him so he can sleep at night knowing that you could protect yourself if he’s not home. He’s gone as far as to make sure you have all of the licenses and certificates that are needed to legally own firearms in the UK.

He’s not leaving any opportunity for you to be vulnerable or have your ‘safety checks’, as he calls them, taken away.

3. Simon Riley is a godless man…until he meets you.

Now this is entirely my own headcannon with no evidence to support it so bear with me.

Simon had a shitty childhood where his mom would pray to a god who never listened and his dad would shout verses at him when he was drunk. God was a mythical figure that he was told stories off with nothing to show for it. He did believe at one point but then his dad never got better, his mom wore bruises of every shade, and his brother found comfort in drugs.

He found himself praying when he was being tortured by the Mexican cartel. Between the flashbacks of his abusive past, he prayed to a god who had failed him so many times before to help him. He prayed again as he dug himself out of that Texas grave with the major’s jaw bone. He wailed his prayers when he found his family executed after Sparks tried to kill him.

After that he deemed himself a Godless man. Years of praying had passed with nothing. This god had decided that Simon was not worthy of a miracle so why would he continue to worship him?

That was until he met you. He finds himself praying before every mission, every time he has to leave you, every time he’s on his way home, and just about any other time he thinks of you. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s praying for other than for you to be there when he gets back.

He whispers his prayers to an absent god against your skin as he worships your body, soul, and heart. He promises to be devoted to you until his last breath and vows to find you again in whatever afterlife awaits you. He pledges to find solace in you and only you when his haunting nightmares return. He makes an oath to your heart that it will never weather another storm alone again for his will take whatever beating that comes your way. He shows you that he will love you in the same manner as a Hozier song; putting you above all else because you have become his religion, his faith, his beliefs, his life.

You have become all that he is and he thanks the god he once believed in for you. He prays again but to you, his heart, his love, and his beacon through the enteral storm of life.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost imagine #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #ghost x female reader

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"Don't spy on a privacy lab" (and other career advice for university provosts)

This is a wild and hopeful story: grad students at Northeastern successfully pushed back against invasive digital surveillance in their workplace, through solidarity, fearlessness, and the bright light of publicity. It’s a tale of hand-to-hand, victorious combat with the “shitty technology adoption curve.”

What’s the “shitty tech adoption curve?” It’s the process by which oppressive technologies are normalized and spread. If you want to do something awful with tech — say, spy on people with a camera 24/7 — you need to start with the people who have the least social capital, the people whose objections are easily silenced or overridden.

That’s why all our worst technologies are first imposed on refugees -> prisoners -> kids -> mental patients -> poor people, etc. Then, these technologies climb the privilege gradient: blue collar workers -> white collar workers -> everyone. Following this pathway lets shitty tech peddlers knock the rough edges off their wares, inuring us all to their shock and offense.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

20 years ago, if you ate dinner under the unblinking eye of a CCTV, it was because you were housed in a supermax prison. Today, it’s because you were unwise enough to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars for “home automation” from Google, Apple, Amazon or another “luxury surveillance” vendor.

Northeastern’s Interdisciplinary Science and Engineering Complex (ISEC) is home to the “Cybersecurity and Privacy Institute,” where grad students study the harms of surveillance and the means by which they may be reversed. If there’s one group of people who are prepared to stand athwart the shitty tech adoption curve, it is the CPI grad students.

Which makes it genuinely baffling that Northeastern’s Senior Vice Provost for Research decided to install under-desk heat sensors throughout ISEC, overnight, without notice or consultation. The provost signed the paperwork that brought the privacy institute into being.

Students throughout ISEC were alarmed by this move, but especially students on the sixth floor, home to the Privacy Institute. When they demanded an explanation, they were told that the university was conducting a study on “desk usage.” This rang hollow: students at the Privacy Institute have assigned desks, and they badge into each room when they enter it.

As Privacy Institute PhD candidate Max von Hippel wrote, “Reader, we have assigned desks, and we use a key-card to get into the room, so, they already know how and when we use our desks.”

https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578048837746204672

So why was the university suddenly so interested in gathering fine-grained data on desk usage? I asked von Hippel and he told me: “They are proposing that grad students share desks, taking turns with a scheduling web-app, so administrators can take over some of the space currently used by grad students. Because as you know, research always works best when you have to schedule your thinking time.”

That’s von Hippel’s theory, and I’m going to go with it, because the provost didn’t offer a better one in the flurry of memos and “listening sessions” that took place after the ISEC students arrived at work one morning to discover sensors under their desks.

This is documented in often hilarious detail in von Hippel’s thread on the scandal, in which the university administrators commit a series of unforced errors and the grad students run circles around them, in a comedy of errors straight out of “Animal House.”

https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578048652215431168

After the sensors were discovered, the students wrote to the administrators demanding their removal, on the grounds that there was no scientific purpose for them, that they intimidated students, that they were unnecessary, and that the university had failed to follow its own rules and ask the Institutional Review Board (IRB) to review the move as a human-subjects experiment.

The letter was delivered to the provost, who offered “an impromptu listening session” in which he alienated students by saying that if they trusted the university to “give” them a degree, they should trust it to surveil them. The students bristled at this characterization, noting that students deliver research (and grant money) to “make it tick.”

[Image ID: Sensors arrayed around a kitchen table at ISEC]

The students, believing the provost was not taking them seriously, unilaterally removed all the sensors, and stuck them to their kitchen table, annotating and decorating them with Sharpie. This prompted a second, scheduled “listening session” with the provost, but this session, while open to all students, was only announced to their professors (“Beware of the leopard”).

The students got wind of this, printed up fliers and made sure everyone knew about it. The meeting was packed. The provost explained to students that he didn’t need IRB approval for his sensors because they weren’t “monitoring people.” A student countered, what was being monitored, “if not people?” The provost replied that he was monitoring “heat sources.”

https://github.com/maxvonhippel/isec-sensors-scandal/blob/main/Oct_6_2022_Luzzi_town_hall.pdf

Remember, these are grad students. They asked the obvious question: which heat sources are under desks, if not humans (von Hippel: “rats or kangaroos?”). The provost fumbled for a while (“a service animal or something”) before admitting, “I guess, yeah, it’s a human.”

Having yielded the point, the provost pivoted, insisting that there was no privacy interest in the data, because “no individual data goes back to the server.” But these aren’t just grad students — they’re grad students who specialize in digital privacy. Few people on earth are better equipped to understand re-identification and de-aggregation attacks.

[Image ID: A window with a phrase written in marker, ‘We are not doing science here’ -Luzzi.]

A student told the provost, “This doesn’t matter. You are monitoring us, and collecting data for science.” The provost shot back, “we are not doing science here.” This ill-considered remark turned into an on-campus meme. I’m sure it was just blurted in the heat of the moment, but wow, was that the wrong thing to tell a bunch of angry scientists.

From the transcript, it’s clear that this is where the provost lost the crowd. He accused the students of “feeling emotion” and explaining that the data would be used for “different kinds of research. We want to see how students move around the lab.”

Now, as it happens, ISEC has an IoT lab where they take these kinds of measurements. When they do those experiments, students are required to go through IRB, get informed consent, all the stuff that the provost had bypassed. When this is pointed out, the provost says that they had been given an IRB waiver by the university’s Human Research Protection Program (HRPP).

Now a prof gets in on the action, asking, pointedly: “Is the only reason it doesn’t fall under IRB is that the data will not be published?” A student followed up by asking how the university could justify blowing $50,000 on surveillance gear when that money would have paid for a whole grad student stipend with money left over.

The provost’s answers veer into the surreal here. He points out that if he had to hire someone to monitor the students’ use of their desks, it would cost more than $50k, implying that the bill for the sensors represents a cost-savings. A student replies with the obvious rejoinder — just don’t monitor desk usage, then.

Finally, the provost started to hint at the underlying rationale for the sensors, discussing the cost of the facility to the university and dangling the possibility of improving utilization of “research assets.” A student replies, “If you want to understand how research is done, don’t piss off everyone in this building.”

Now that they have at least a vague explanation for what research question the provost is trying to answer, the students tear into his study design, explaining why he won’t learn what he’s hoping to learn. It’s really quite a good experimental design critique — these are good students! Within a few volleys, they’re pointing out how these sensors could be used to stalk researchers and put them in physical danger.

The provost turns the session over to an outside expert via a buggy Zoom connection that didn’t work. Finally, a student asks whether it’s possible that this meeting could lead to them having a desk without a sensor under it. The provost points out that their desk currently doesn’t have a sensor (remember, the students ripped them out). The student says, “I assume you’ll put one back.”

[Image ID: A ‘public art piece’ in the ISEC lobby — a table covered in sensors spelling out ‘NO!,’ surrounded by Sharpie annotations decrying the program.]

They run out of time and the meeting breaks up. Following this, the students arrange the sensors into a “public art piece” in the lobby — a table covered in sensors spelling out “NO!,” surrounded by Sharpie annotations decrying the program.

Meanwhile, students are still furious. It’s not just that the sensors are invasive, nor that they are scientifically incoherent, nor that they cost more than a year’s salary — they also emit lots of RF noise that interferes with the students’ own research. The discussion spills onto Reddit:

https://www.reddit.com/r/NEU/comments/xx7d7p/northeastern_graduate_students_privacy_is_being/

Yesterday, the provost capitulated, circulating a memo saying they would pull “all the desk occupancy sensors from the building,” due to “concerns voiced by a population of graduate students.”

https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578101964960776192

The shitty technology adoption curve is relentless, but you can’t skip a step! Jumping straight to grad students (in a privacy lab) without first normalizing them by sticking them on the desks of poor kids in underfunded schools (perhaps after first laying off a computer science teacher to free up the budget!) was a huge tactical error.

A more tactically sound version of this is currently unfolding at CMU Computer Science, where grad students have found their offices bugged with sensors that detect movement and collect sound:

https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387909329710366721

The CMU administration has wisely blamed the presence of these devices on the need to discipline low-waged cleaning staff by checking whether they’re really vacuuming the offices.

https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387426812972646403

While it’s easier to put cleaners under digital surveillance than computer scientists, trying to do both at once is definitely a boss-level challenge. You might run into a scholar like David Gray Widder, who, observing that “this seems like algorithmic management of lowly paid employees to me,” unplugged the sensor in his office.

https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387909329710366721

This is the kind of full-stack Luddism this present moment needs. These researchers aren’t opposed to sensors — they’re challenging the social relations of sensors, who gets sensed and who does the sensing.

https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/

[Image ID: A flier inviting ISEC grad students to attend an unadvertised 'listening session' with the vice-provost. It is surmounted with a sensor that has been removed from beneath a desk and annotated in Sharpie to read: 'If found by David Luzzi suck it.']

#pluralistic

[fleuraliasave]

❤ Version 7.0 Fleuralia Save File ❤

Download link down below (please read entire post before installing)

This save file uses all EP’s, GP’s (not Journey to Batuu), SP’s and most of the kits (Country Kitchen, Blooming Rooms, Incheon Arrivals, Retro Fit, Industrial loft, Moonlight Chic, Little Campers, Pastel Pop, Everyday Clutter, Bathroom Clutter, Simtimates Collection, First Fits, Desert Luxe, Modern Luxe, Poolside Splash, Book Nook, Basement treasures, Greenhouse Haven, Pastel Pop and Bust the Dust).

What’s new in this update?:

Chestnut Ridge and Tomarang have been completely redone, added multiple new lots, updated other lots and provided make-overs for the households.

Added new households (when living in world; with jobs, friends, preferences etc).

Added rental lots in multiple other worlds outside of Tomarang (Brindleton Bay, Henford-on-Bagley, Britechester and more).

Spooky Fall Festival has been moved to Chestnut Ridge (bigger with haunted house ride). The old lot in Brindleton Bay has been changed into a cemetery.

Current Status of Worlds:

Finished worlds: Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, Newcrest, Magnolia Promenade, Windenburg, San Myshuno, Forgotten Hollow, Brindleton Bay, Del Sol Valley, StrangerVille, Glimmerbrook, Sulani, Britechester , Evergreen Harbor, Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley, Tartosa, Moonwood Mill, Copperdale, San Sequoia, Chestnut Ridge (NEW!) and Tomarang (NEW!).

Finished vacation worlds: Granite Falls and Selvadorada.

Finihed other lots: Hospital, Science Lab and the Police Station.

To be updated: the Magic Realm, will either be included in a future update or on the gallery (OriginID: fleuralia)

What do you get with this save?:

For my save file all lots are either completely new builds (almost all) or renovations, ofcourse created by me. Exceptions: I have added the official builds for the releases of the Paranormal SP by Dr Ashley and the Dream Home Decorator GP by Deligracy to this save, since I thought they deserved a spot. These two are therefore not my own creations, credits are given in the description to Dr Ashley and Deligracy. Mt. Komorebi, Henford-on-Bagley, Tartosa, Moonwood Mill, Copperdale, San Sequoia and Chestnut Ridge lots are largely created by GameChangers. Most lots have gotten smaller updates, others are completely new builds by me.

All the townies had make-overs plus I added new families to spice it up a bit. Some of the townies are made by other creators, who are given credits in the description of the household. All the townies in the different worlds have a story, some include sentiments and adjusted relationships to the story.

Added plenty of community lots to give your Sims something to do (YAY!). Almost every world has one restaurant, but it also includes festivals that represent the four seasons (park lots) and a fully functional shopping street in Magnolia Promenade (toy store, bridal store and more).

I have added rental lots so you can go on vacation in more worlds. For example in Sulani, Willow Creek and Windenburg.

Other details:

As mentioned at the beginning, this save uses almost all packs (except Journey to Batuu and some kits). This means that if you download it without owning or installing most of the packs a lot of objects will disappear from the save, but if you are not bothered by this you can still download and play in it.  

I disabled the autonomous fame gain and neigborhood action plan voting/environmental changes, you enable them again in the pack settings menu.

I would love to add some households in this save created by all of you! Add your household under the hashtag #fleuraliatownies in The Sims 4 Gallery, you can add a storyline and world in the description but thats not obligatory. If I respond on your creation it means that I have incorporated it in the save for the next update.

Sadly every game update comes with a lot of bugs. I suggest before reporting problems in the save to me, to check on forums if its related to a general bug/glitch or to mods (if you use them).

Questions and supportive feedback are always welcome, you can reach me here via a comment on this post, an ask or through a DM 😁

How to make it work in your game:

Download the save file from the link below.

Drag it in your saves folder under: PC/Documents/Electronic Arts/The Sims 4/saves.

Change the numbers if you already have a save with the same name.

It should now show up in your game as: Fleuralia Save Version 7.0.

DOWNLOAD (SFS) / Alternate (GD)

!!Don’t re-upload or claim as your own!!

Future updates will follow after each pack release (if it includes a world). The time the update will be uploaded after each release depends on how much I have to change and on my work schedule around that time.

Last but not least, enjoy and till next time! XX

Fleuralia

Feel free to support me ❤️: Ko-fi account

#fleuraliasave #save file #update #sims 4 save file #fleuraliatownies

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

WIP Intro x 2

The Case Files of Seo Yo-han has just turned into a six-book series. Is anyone surprised any more? (I am. I shouldn't be, but I am.)

Introducing both new instalments at once, because why not:

Title: There Stands a Spectre

Genre: Murder mystery

Setting: ??? Possibly 1910?

Summary: A man and woman disappear without trace. A student is accused of rape. A teenager ran off with his parents' money. All these cases happened in the same area within one week. Yo-han discovers this isn't the only link between them.

Status: Planning in progress

Fun facts:

The title is a quote from Lady Clara Vere de Vere by Alfred Lord Tennyson: "There stands a spectre in your hall:/The guilt of blood is at your door."

Despite what you might think, the case doesn't involve a literal ghost haunting its killers.

This book doesn't have a happy ending. Consider yourself warned.

The main inspiration is Whose Body? by Dorothy L. Sayer.

Title: The Tempest and the Night

Genre: Murder mystery

Setting: ?? Probably after Houses Full of Deceit, so 1920-ish.

Summary: A rainstorm reveals someone has been murdered and buried in someone else's grave. Different types of earth clinging to the body reveal it was buried somewhere else, then exhumed and reburied. Yo-han has to answer three questions: who killed them, where they were first buried, and why they were moved.

Status: Planning in progress

Fun facts:

The title is a quote from The New Locksley Hall by Francis Adams: "Enter then within your chambers in the rich and quiet light:/Never think of us who struggle in the tempest and the night."

The main inspiration is a terrible mystery novel I read last year. It had an interesting premise (body exhumed and reburied in someone else's grave) but the worst execution and the solution made no sense. I was annoyed into planning my own take on that premise. So here we are ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Taglist: Let me know if you want to be added!

Adding the general Case-Files taglist: @akindofmagictoo, @sam-glade, @sarahlizziewrites, @oh-no-another-idea, @cljordan-imperium, @mrbexwrites (Tell me on this post if you want to be added/removed!)

#WIP intro #writing #my writing #my WIPs #WIP: spectre #WIP: tempest #the case files of seo yo han

[golbrocklovely]

smile for me // sam golbach

A/N: i'm not sure why, but while i was writing this, i felt the need to leave everything lower case. i usually don't like writings that are like this but idk lol i kinda like it. this was a lot of fun to write, along with the one i wrote for colby. not the same story, but it’s similar in one way that you’ll see ;) hope you enjoy ! let me know what you think.

prompt: a stalker has made it its mission to leave you unsettled in your own home. everyone is looking out for you, your fans, your security team, and even the paparazzi. || famous!reader x paparazzi!sam

trigger warning: stalking, home invasion, cursing, creepy stalker, surprise ending, angst

word count: 1805

~~~~~~~~

your face was everywhere: magazines, tv, movies, instagram, twitter, tiktok. you were being talked about daily. every move you made was followed by paparazzi. you couldn't even get a drink at starbucks without stopping for a mini meet and greet. everyone knew about you.

especially sam.

sam didn't love being a paparazzi. times were changing, and celebrities didn't really need to be photographed by random strangers to gain popularity anymore. hell, most times paparazzi would get tipped off by the celebs themselves by their posts on instagram or snapchat. and you in particular... you marked your every move. and sam followed it.

over the few years of your celebrity status, you had come to know the faces that would follow you around the most. sam was one of them. he was the nicest out of all the paparazzi. never yelled at you, never asked invasive questions. he would just ask for you to smile for him, and then he would be on his way.

you knew every day you were out, you would see him. and weirdly, it made you happy. it was a nice common occurrence you could count on in your ever-changing daily routine.

one morning when you woke up, something felt very off. the air around you was colder than usually, like someone left a window open. as you stepped out of bed, you felt something plastic underneath your foot. you looked down and found a polaroid. you picked it up, turned it over, gasping loudly at the image.

it was of you. sleeping. from last night.

you immediately called your security team and they checked out the house. that night cameras were installed all over your property, something you had been meaning to do for the longest time. your security team was on high alert for the next few days, and so were you. it was hard to go to sleep knowing someone could sneak into your house and photograph you. but at least with the cameras up and running, you felt a little bit safer.

a couple days later, you saw sam. he told you he heard the news about the break in and understood if you didn't want to be photographed. but you smiled for his picture nonetheless, and then decided to ask him a question.

"i know this might be weird, but do you know of any paparazzi that use polaroid cameras?"

sam squinted at you. "it wouldn't make sense to use that type of camera, especially for everyday use like us. but i can ask around. maybe see if any of the new guys are a bit on the weirder side of things and would do something like that."

you nodded, "thank you. that would mean so much to me."

you felt safe that night and went to sleep peacefully. but in the morning, you woke up to another polaroid of you sleeping. but not just one, multiple. and throughout your house. in your bathroom, in your kitchen, all the way leading up to the front door.

you checked the cameras, knowing this stalker would have to be on there.... but nothing showed up. not a single blip of a person appeared in the hours of footage. how is that even possible? it's not like a ghost was taking photos of you! your security team figured that someone hacked the cameras and deleted the footage. there wasn't much your team could do. they tried to make your cameras less hackable, in case there was another attempt at a break in.

you barely slept the next week. this time security was outside your bedroom the whole night. there was no way someone could break in and take a picture of you asleep.

things grew quiet for a couple months. the press and the general media felt bad for you and were disgusted by this apparent stalker. the police were involved too, making sure to drive by your neighborhood often. you felt safe, but only by a little.

even sam started checking in on you every so often. it was nice to know you had someone looking out for you that you weren't paying to, even if it was some random paparazzi.

but every time you let your guard down, that's when it would strike.

you weren't sure how it happened, but this time you woke up when it came in. you heard your bedroom door close. you were confused at first, thinking maybe it was someone on your security team peaking in to check on you. but a quiet click of the lock startled you fully awake. you tried to remain calm, knowing any sudden movements would give you away. you weren't sure what to do. you prayed that maybe this was just some weird nightmare, but you soon realized how real it was.

the stalker approached your bed, making sure to face you. you could feel its presence by your bedside, the light from outside growing dark from the looming figure. a hand gently brushed hair out of your face, and it took every nerve in your body not to scream.

"smile for me, baby." the stalker whispered, then suddenly there was a flash.

it took a picture of you.

you heard the whirling of the camera, the image sliding out and dropping to the floor. you wanted to turn your head away from the stalker, get some distance between the two of you, but before you could even think that, you felt the bed dip. it climbed on top of you, but never touched you. you could feel it's breath fan across your face as it got close to you. you held your breath, your heart banging out of your chest. you breathed out hard, and all was still.

suddenly hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing it close. you jolt your eyes open, finally looking at your stalker. the face was covered by a mask, but from the grip alone you could tell it was a man. you tried to scream out, but only a gurgled cough escaped. you gripped his wrists, trying to pry them off, but it did no good. your vision began to grow black, the edges blurring. you were going pass out if you didn't fight harder!

you glanced over at the glass of water that sat on your nightstand. hastily you reached over and grabbed it, smashing it into the back of the guy’s head. he groaned loudly, falling off you and onto the floor. you coughed, trying to breathe, and scrambled off your bed, racing to the door. he was already up before you could reach it to unlock it, so you ran into your bathroom, letting out a weak scream. you locked it tightly, tears pouring down your face.

he rushed up to the door, slamming his body weight into it multiple times. he jiggled the handle over and over. your body fell to the floor, your chest heaving with sobs.

"smile for me, y/n! SMILE FOR ME!" he screeched demonically.

you screamed out. "no!! leave me alone!"

he cackled, still banging on the door repeatedly. "keep screaming, y/n! they're all watching you! they want to hear you. scream louder! smile!"

you covered your ears and wailed, letting out the loudest scream you could. by the time you stopped your voice was sore, your face soaked with tears. the banging had stopped, but you could hear the rush of footsteps coming up to your room.

"y/n?! are you alright?! open the door!" you could hear it was your security team, but you couldn't move, your body locked into place.

they were able to break down your bedroom door, and finally get you out of your bathroom.

the next month or two was a blur. you moved out of that house, and planned to move out of the state for that matter. you issued a statement about the stalker, telling your fans you were going on hiatus until you felt safe again. you considered going into hiding, but only decided to do so when you found out the footage from that night got leaked online. you watched in horror as the events you experienced played out for all to see. you didn't even realize he had a camera on him when he was trying to kill you. maybe you were so blindly trying to survive you didn't pay attention to that.

the only positive was that the audio had been corrupted when it was posted. no one could actually hear you pleading for your life. the police searched for who posted it, but every lead got them nowhere closer to who could have done this.

you flew to vegas that night, hiding yourself in some random townhouse for a couple months. your security team was with you at all times. you didn't go online ever. you took time off, painted, wrote a lot, talked to your family back home. just... anything to keep yourself preoccupied.

you eventually decided that you wanted a change of scenery, that vegas had lost its charm. you figured about going out to new york for a while. the day before you were planning to move, you went for a drive with your bodyguard. you decided to stop at a 7/11 to get some food. you told your bodyguard to wait in the car, only running in to get a slurpee and some nachos. as you walked up and down the aisles, you heard a familiar voice behind you. "y/n?"

you turned around and gasped. you walked up, smiling, and gave him a sweet hug. "oh my god, sam! it is so nice to see you! what are you doing out here?"

"oh, i'm in town for a job. there's a big event happening at one of the major hotels on the strip. lots of celebs to capture," he joked, wiggling his camera from side to side. "what about you?"

"just... hiding out. i'm actually gonna leave town for a while. probably go out east, go see some family." you stated.

he nodded. "that sounds like a good plan. i'm so sorry... about everything."

"it's okay. i'm just trying to put it all behind me." you hummed.

"of course, of course. i won't ask for a picture. i know you need your privacy." sam confirmed.

"hey, you know what? you have always been the nicest paparazzi to me. and i know the tabloids are just dying to see a picture of me out and about. so, if you want..." you offered.

sam gaped. "are you sure? i don't want to make you feel-"

"no, you're totally fine. you were there for me when i needed you. i appreciate you. so... go ahead. just make sure to get my good side." you giggled, posing for a second.

"alright," sam laughed, lining up the shot. "smile for me."

#sam golbach #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach fanfiction #sam golbach fic #sam golbach story #sam golbach oneshot #sam golbach one shot #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween #sam golbach angst

[djuvlipen]

https://nordicmodelnow.org/2020/03/02/the-cost-of-western-europes-rampant-prostitution-the-genocide-of-romanian-women/?amp=1

Sorry for the triggering article. Not romani but ty for your bravery and support of women 💚

God, that was a good article, thank you for sharing, Anon. I recommend reading the whole thing but I want to highlight some specific parts:

For the last eight months or so, the entire country has been in turmoil and living a nightmare. I do not say ‘nightmare’ lightly. I wish it had just been a bad dream that we’d woken from. If only… But the reality is we can’t shake off the nightmarish situation that’s been stewing since about the time my country was accepted into the European Union and the borders were opened. While it was a fantastic opportunity for the development of the country, it was also the beginning of a horrifying new reality – rampant human trafficking. In an effort to provide for themselves and/or their families, people started to go abroad in search of work opportunities they couldn’t find at home. But it was also a huge opportunity for interlopers and human traffickers, because the opening of the borders made it easier for them to do what they had previously been doing with a lot more difficulty. Now their activity is widespread and unchecked. They have no qualms. They brazenly state that it’s a certified way of making a living. Given the legal status of prostitution in many EU countries, trafficking women and children has become in Romania a legitimate way of making a fortune for the ‘smarter’ people. They declare that dirty money is easier and faster to make with little to no effort on their part. That’s ‘smart’ to them. They announce this unapologetically, and with a superior smirk, on every medium, official and unofficial. For the ordinary, hardworking population, this is unbelievable, unbearable, terrifying.

This points at something I've been thinking about: the European Union is not our friend, it is explicitly anti-women. It doesn't simply tolerate the sex trade, it institutionalizes it to make profit out of it. It is antifeminist at its core and the first victims of it are women from impoverished Eastern European countries, with Romani (not simply Romanian) women being particularly vulnerable.

There are over 500 known trafficking rings in Romania, their areas of influence are well mapped and the leaders well known. They cover pretty much every inch of the country. Not a corner has been left unexploited by them. Prostitution is illegal in Romania, but it is flourishing anyway. As we all know, it produces enormous amounts of money for the ‘clans’ – as the interlopers call themselves with pride. But the biggest source of money is outside the country. In the beginning, they promised a job abroad in agriculture, in restaurants and as babysitters, and the women who fell prey found themselves in prostitution. When word got out and that tactic didn’t work anymore, they resorted to the ‘lover boy’ method. When that didn’t work so well, they started to steal children and young women from the street and even from their own homes. Thousands of other cases similar to Alexandra’s and Luiza’s have surfaced – including one where all six children – two boys and four girls – of a single mother were abducted by force, from their house. None of this – on this scale – would have been possible without the tacit agreement and practical protection of the authorities – police, the justice system, and politicians. The clans have grown so powerful that they even boast of having installed their own politicians, policemen, judges, and prosecutors. They continually escape justice. If some rogue policemen catch them and somehow manage to bring them to court, they use their money and influence to get off. The money that comes, as I said, not so much from the internal ‘market’, but from other European countries to which they traffic the children and women they get their hands on by any means. The most important destination are the countries where prostitution is legalized, like Germany and the Netherlands, but also the countries (including the UK) where laws against pimping and buying women in prostitution are not enforced. Romania has become the number one European source country of children and women in the brothels in Germany and Holland, and also Italy, Spain, Switzerland, Belgium, Greece and the UK. Even though the total population of Romania is only about 19 million, there are thousands[*] of Romanian women and children forced into street prostitution in Italy alone – and that’s not counting those in strip clubs, brothels and ‘escort’ prostitution. It’s estimated that there are similar numbers in Spain, the UK, Germany, and Holland – and that’s not considering those in the Arab world and on other continents. Romania has haemorrhaged more than a million children (girls and boys) and women into the prostitution trade in these countries. In countries where prostitution is legal, like Germany, only a small percentage of the women involved are locals. German women do not take up this kind of ‘work’ en masse. (Should we wonder why it’s so off-putting?). But the demand is huge – so they outsource to countries like mine.

This part is also very important. I only wish she had mentioned that Romani women make up a large % of trafficked women from Romania; one of the reasons I started making posts about it is because many people don't think race is relevant when talking about the sex trade in Eastern Europe, because they think all of Eastern Europe is white. The vast majority of articles and studies therefore erasing the large % of trafficked Romani women by painting the general sex-trafficked victim as a white woman, which is not the case as race is relevant here.

And all this because of the participation of our men in power, men who served the parents of the two still missing girls who want their children back with the sentence (pun intended), “I’m hitting a wall.” Yes. That’s what the attorney general said to them when asked why they aren’t looking for the girls: “I can’t look for them because there’s a wall stopping me.” People started rallying for the girls. It is awful to see the two mothers in tears and on their knees in front of the Police Department building, begging the authorities to find their children and bring them home. So what is that wall? Might it be the needs of ‘punters’ in Germany? In Italy? All over Europe and elsewhere? The US military base located only five miles away from the town of Caracal? The need of the overpaid and oversexed American ‘heroes’ to have sex in their spare time lest they might die from abstinence? The needs of the ‘heroes’ (read ‘paedophiles’) in the other US military base about 200 miles away near the sea port of Constanta who built a special pavilion INSIDE the base camp where they go and have sex and where they demand to be brought younger and younger girls (children), new ones each time? (In the case of Alexandra Macesanu and Luiza Melencu, even the FBI got involved and ‘recommended’ putting a lid on the whole affair, and over 90 US soldiers were packed and shipped home a few days after the disappearances broke into the news.) Might all that be the WALL?

And that is very interesting too. Even in peace time, the military is harming and raping girls and women. The US military, none the less. That's imperialism right there. The most powerful country in the world establishing military bases in impoverished countries and harming the girls and women living there. Covered up by the State. Just confirms what we all know: the military is a rotten institution and all soldiers are a threat to women, and the US military is the most powerful one.

#romania #sex trafficking #rape #germany #netherlands #us #anti prostitution #anti imperialism #anti military #ref #asks #anon

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Confederate monuments bear what the anthropological theorist Michael Taussig would call a public secret: something that is privately known but collectively denied. It does no good to simply reveal the secret — in this case, to tell people that most of the Confederate monuments were erected not at the end of the Civil War, to honor those who fought, but at the height of Jim Crow, to entrench a system of racial hierarchy. That’s already part of their appeal. Dr. Taussig has argued that public secrets don’t lose their power unless they are transformed in a manner that does justice to the scale of the secret. He compares the process to desecration. How can you expect people to stop believing in their gods without providing some other way of making sense of this world and our future?

Swords Into Plowshares might have been the first to propose melting, but other communities are working out their own creative visions for Lee’s afterlife. One of the biggest changes so far has been at Arlington House, the historic plantation mansion at the center of Arlington National Cemetery, which is the official national Robert E. Lee Memorial. In 2021, Arlington House reopened with displays not only about Lee’s family, who lived there after they inherited it from Lee’s father-in-law, but also about the lives of the families enslaved there. Even Lee’s burial site at Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Va. — where he served as president after the war — has changed. The university decided to focus on Lee the civilian rather than Lee the general, for example by moving a prominent portrait of him in uniform. And it constructed a wall to enclose the large sculpture of Lee that once claimed an insistent place in the university’s chapel.

Covering this story over the past few years, I’ve come to realize two things. First, when a monument disappears without a ceremony to mark why it is coming down, a community has no chance to recognize that it has itself changed. (Ideally the ceremony is public, but because of safety concerns, the melting I attended was not.) Second, if you are outraged that something’s happening to your community’s heroic statue of Lee, you’re not going to be any less outraged if the statue is moved to some hidden storeroom than if it’s thrown into a landfill. So if all changes, large or small, will be resisted, why not go for the ones with the most symbolic resonance?

That’s why the idea to melt Lee down, as violent as it might initially seem, struck me as so apt. Confederate monuments went up with rich, emotional ceremonies that created historical memory and solidified group identity. The way we remove them should be just as emotional, striking and memorable. Instead of quietly tucking statues away, we can use monuments one final time to bind ourselves together into new communities.

...

When the remaining legal barriers were cleared (including a last-minute lawsuit that sought to have the statue reassembled), Lee was finally ready to surrender to the furnace. The foundryman turned on the propane supply and laid Lee’s sword across the hole in the lid. He told the spectators that the metal had to get hot enough to release any moisture before he maneuvered it down through the hole into the crucible.

When he did, its blade stuck up out of the furnace for a moment, then melted down “like a stick of butter,” as Dr. Schmidt put it.

Lee’s face was the last piece to go into the crucible. Given how often the monument and its ideals were celebrated with flames — from Klansmen’s torches to the tiki torches of white nationalists in 2017 — it seemed fitting for flames to close over the monument.

...

Dr. Douglas, Swords Into Plowshares’ other co-founder, apologized that the ceremony could not be public. She thanked those in attendance, telling us we were witnessing it on behalf of Charlottesville’s residents, including those long gone who lived under slavery. Someday, she said, when we think of Civil War heroes, we will imagine not Lee but, instead, those who fought for their freedom against him.

The man in the protective visor dropped the red-hot piece of metal that once represented Lee on the ground. It fell to pieces, which he fed into the crucible. A line of cameras faced him, making new images of history as the old image finally disappeared in flames.

- Erin Thompson, "The Most Controversial Statue in America Surrenders to the Furnace." New York Times. October 24, 2023. Photo by Eze Amos.

#swords into plougshares #confederate monuments #robert e. lee #tear them down #historical monuments #american civil war #historical memory #united states history #united states politics

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

I really do, believe in you...

Wordcount: 2,860

Thor x POC Singer!Reader “Honey” x Bucky. Thor x POC Singer!Reader “Honey” x Bucky x Steve.

Summary:

Let’s see if you believe in me. The Avengers Holiday party. You are both a guest and part of the musical entertainment. Will you end up on the naughty or nice list?

Warnings:

Smut, Teasing, Dom Steve Rogers, Christmas Party, Office Sex, Polyamory, Steve Rogers is a Tease, Possessive Behavior, Not Sharon Carter Friendly, Domestic Avengers, Petty Reader, Dancing and Singing, Protective Bucky Barnes, Thor is just enjoying his mead

Notes:

Just a fun little snapshot for the holiday season! This one is very Steve heavy, but that's just where these characters took me. Have no fear though, the next full installment is VERY Thor-centric and Bucky will have his own installment to shine as well. Happy Reading Heathens! *I will have a set list of the songs used at the end. As well as links to the songs throughout the story. Please give these artists a listen!

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

You spot them as they enter the main ballroom. Your three strapping men, color coordinated and cutting intimidating frames in their suit choices. Thank the goddess you had a good hold on the mic as you waited for your cue to join Sy in singing White Christmas, or you might have literally swooned in front of this mass of party goers.

You start your verse as you watch them make their way over to the bar where the team, plus one Sharon Carter, have gathered. Thankfully tonight’s event is Jane Foster free, so it should be a good night with you, Sy and the Chanti’s house band entertaining Tony’s rich friends and employees before enjoying some much needed time with your men.

You can't help but feel festive in your short red dress, studded red fishnets and nude pumps. You’ve kept your makeup simple with a nude lip and a smokey eye. Your hair down and in its natural state. Sy made a comment when picking you up that you looked like Santa’s little Siren. Seems appropriate if you do say so yourself.

Per usual you notice Sharon being a bit too chummy with your Captain. The woman just can’t help herself. You know all about the “kiss” when they were trying to save your beloved Bucky. But according to Steve the reason it never went further was because there was no spark when their lips touched. And he tried giving her a chance, chalking the lack of spark up to the stress of the situation, but she was way too into his status and power. So he ended things before it made it any further than a couple dates and a subpar makeout session.

What is it with these prude ass women that hang around these strong ass people? Sharon, like Jane, thinks your quad is ridiculous and you don't need that many men. Especially when you added Steve in.

“He should be upholding traditional values as he’s America's golden boy. Not flaunting such an alternative lifestyle. Hell if he was gay it would be easier than this bullshit. Why on Earth would you want to willingly share a woman with two other men. Not to mention one of those men is a God and the other a murderer.”

Let's not forget what she also stated in that little rant of hers, when she was unaware you could hear her perfectly clear from your spot in the common room. “I just don’t understand what he sees in her. Who stays in a band with someone they used to be fuck buddies with? It’s just tacky and sad. A man that powerful should be with someone who is only devoted to him and can boost his image, not damage it. ” 

I’ll show her tacky. Lord knows I'm certainly not above being petty. I’ve been behaving for far too long. Time to put these Siren skills to use. What good are they to have if you can’t fuck with uppity bitches using them.

You wrap the song with Sy and address the room. “Once again I’m Honey, he’s Sy and they are the Chanticleers house band. I hope you’ve enjoyed your evening so far. We plan on keeping things fun, flirty and just a tad bit naughty. Might even make ya feel some things tonight. Requests are accepted but are subject to refusal. For this next one I’m going to need a certain Widow and White Wolf to report to the dance floor to really get this crowd moving and grooving.”

They exchange a look with each other, shrug and make their way over to the now cleared dance floor. A tango melody begins, which sounds remarkably like Billie Eilish's Bad Guy . As your sultry voice fills the space, your eyes feast upon the natural elegance of Bucky leading Nat across the floor. It’s turning you on, if you’re being honest with yourself. Two people you know very intimately, pressed close together, seducing the crowd with their bodies, is panty dampening. If you were wearing any that is.

As Bucky dips Nat for the last time, he tosses you a wink as he swings her out and they both take a bow.

“Now that the temperature has certainly risen, let's get those hips moving. We are a big band after all, let’s give ya a taste of what we do three nights a week at Chanti’s.” Sy starts tickling the ivory, leading the band in a 1920s cover of Levitating. You shimmy and sway your hips to the beat as people fill the dance floor once again. 

The whole team is cutting a rug, trying to get tips from Bucky and Steve on how to dance best with a partner to this upbeat rhythm. It truly is such a sweet sight to see. Even Sharon, trying to use this to her advantage isn’t phasing you. He entertains her for a few measures as she tries desperately to keep up with his footwork. He eventually pawns her off on an agent nearby and makes his way to the side of the stage.

Just before the music break he sneaks up and grabs your hand, spinning you into him as you finish the chorus. A ‘woo’ escaping you as you collide with his chest. He leads you in a simple swing as the band plays on, placing you back in front of the mic with a kiss to the jaw and a squeeze of the hips just in time for you to get back to serenading the crowd. 

Smooth asshole. I’ll be getting you back for that one, Sir.

“Should we keep this high energy up?” The crowd responds with ‘yes’ accompanied by hoots and hollers. “Requests are open if anyone has a suggestion.”

From the middle of the dance floor you hear Sam shout “I2I. I’m trying to get my goof troop on.”

You can't help but crack up at his antics, trying to pull one over on you. “Fortunately for you Samuel, we are well versed in the magic that is Tevin Campbell. But since you think you're so funny why don’t you come show these people your best Max moves and maybe you just might find yourself a Roxanne.”

Sy’s fingers produce the familiar synth beat from the electric guitar in his large hands, before the band joins in and brings this funky jam of your childhood to life. You have fun with it, goofing around with your back up singers and really livening the place up. You truly do shine when you are on a stage.

“Steve, why are you over here? Come back out on the dance floor with us.” Sharon whines.

“I’m content here with my drink currently. I’m admiring the view too much.” His eyes haven't moved from your body the whole song. Not even to address Sharon.

“Don’t you want to continue to have fun?”

“I’m having plenty of fun, trust me.” He taps his head, a devious smile crossing his face, as filthy thoughts of you fill his mind.

Just as she is about to open her mouth in response, the song ends and the dance floor bursts out in applause.

“Hot damn was that fun!” You shout out, catching your breath. “I think we all deserve a cool down after that.”

The crowd agrees with head nods and murmurs of yes. “Sy would you be so kind as to set up a chair for Steven to come join us on stage?”

You wink at him as you curl your fingers in a come hither motion to get him moving. He places his drink down and like a sailor following a Sirens song into the sea, travels across the parting dance floor, keeping eye contact with you, until he sits in the chair provided for him in the middle of the stage.

You reach over and pluck the Santa hat covering the extra mic stand. You turn toward the soldier sitting proudly in the chair behind and to the right of you. You take two steps and bend over, placing the festive red hat on his head with a kiss to his bearded cheek.

“Now that we have our Santa, I have a few things I’d like to ask for.” The band starts to play Santa Baby to the crowds whoops and applause. 

You give the room your full attention at first. Pouty lips, swaying hips, coquettish smiles as your fingers play with the mic stand. Steve’s eyes are glued to your backside the entire time, pants growing uncomfortable.

You grab the mic and begin to move about the stage as you sing about all the fellas you haven't kissed, with a wink to Thor and Bucky for good measure. Hips moving to the beat as you parade around the stage, dutifully ignoring your Captain. That is until you place yourself on his thighs asking him to come and trim your Christmas tree. 

You words and attention are only for him. The sexual tension you two have been playing with all night is beginning to leak out. The want in your voice as you ask one final time for him to ‘Hurry, tonight.”, is his breaking point. Especially as you slip off his lap and immediately address the crowd.

“Let’s give a round of applause to our wonderful Santa everybody.” The inebriated crowd hoops and hollers, as Steve, having discreetly adjusted himself, stands and takes a bow. As he passes you by, he places a hand low on your hip, giving it a squeeze. All while laying a kiss behind your ear with a low growl and a whispered command of “My office in 5.”

A shiver runs down your spin as he makes his way off stage. Eyes tracking him as he stops to talk to Thor and Bucky. Both men turn to you up on stage, Thor raises his glass with a wink and smug smile, while Bucky mouths ‘Naughty girl.”

“Looks like it’s time for this Songstress to call it a night.” Someone boos in the crowd. “Have no fear, the night is far from over. The house band is more than capable of keeping the party going. You’ll forget about little ole me in no time. For now I bid you adieu. May your night continue on with laughter and joy.”

You give a bow as Sy walks up to the mic. You give his bicep a squeeze and whisper “Knock em dead.” before exiting the stage.

You’re spread out on Steve’s desk, dress hiked up around your waist and the crotch of your fishnets ripped open, back arched as the golden Adonis between your thighs wrenches another orgasm from you with his tongue.

“Just had to tease me, doll.” He plunges two fingers, knuckles deep into your dripping folds. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the little game you were playing with Sharon.”

He crooks his fingers just so, playing with your sweet spongy spot, making you whimper out. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I know you couldn’t. My naughty naughty girl.” He removes his fingers, leaving you feeling empty. You start to whine until you notice him unbuckling his slacks and pulling out his thick cock.

Your mouth begins to water as you lean forward, licking your lips, wanting a taste. He grabs your throat, pulling your head up. “Uh, uh dollface. As much as I want those pouty lips wrapped around my cock I need to be inside you more. Gotta remind you I’m not going anywhere as my cum slowly leaks out of you the rest of the night.”

As you open your mouth to respond with some kind of sassy retort, he grips your thighs and pulls forward, impaling you to the hilt on his length. You both moan out simultaneously as you adjust to his girth for a moment. A moment is all he grants you.

With an intensity comparable to a feral Bucky, Steve sets a back breaking pace. His strokes are hard and deep, hitting all your sweet spots, turning your muscles to mush in his capable strong hands. He’s so lost in imprinting himself to your body that he doesn't hear the door to his office opening. 

With half lidded eyes you watch as Sharon’s face emerges from the opening, jaw going slack with shock at the act of passion happening in front of her. As Steve grinds his pelvis into your clit after a particularly deep thrust, you lock eyes with the unsolicited blonde voyeur, letting every ounce of pleasure your feeling spring forth from your throat.

He growls out, nipping your neck, still unaware of your visitor. “Fuck babygirl. Squeezing my dick so tight. I can feel you’re close. C’mon. Cum for me. Give your Captain everything so I can fill you up.”

You smirk at Sharon before gripping Steve’s hair and guiding his lips to yours. You ignore the pest still at the door and proceed to grind back against your Captain as you bite his lower lip. It does as you intended and he slams into you harder, desperate to have you coming all over his dick.

You stay lost in each other, as Sharon retreats, quietly shutting the door back. Paying no attention to her surroundings, she runs straight into Bucky.

“Find what you were looking for Sharon?” He asks. “I was trying to find you and let you know that I would get Steve as he would most likely be indisposed. But I guess I was too late. See something you weren't supposed to?”

She swallows and just nods her head.

“Serves you right.” He grits out. “I hope for your sake you’ve finally learned your lesson that Honey isn't going anywhere.” A cruel smile crosses his face. “Knowing you though, I doubt that it has. I’m going to enjoy watching her take you down as you continue to step out of line. Let’s see how long you last this time.”

“He’ll get sick of her soon enough and I’ll be here to give him what he truly needs. A powerful man needs a woman fully devoted to him and only him.” She spits out.

“Keep deluding yourself, agent. You just witnessed how devoted they are to each other.” He shakes his head. “Get the fuck out of here. You’re not worth the hell Honey would give me for ruining her time with her Captain to deal with you.”

She glares at him before walking off down the hall at a brisk pace.

Uncaring of being stealthy, Bucky opens the office door and enters. He is there but a minute, listening to you come undone, before Steve is losing himself inside of you as you cling to him like a koala. His dick instantly hardens wanting to come out and play.

“Is there something I can help you with Buck?” Steve pants out, unwilling to pull himself for your warmth.

“I was just popping in to let you know Tony is asking for you. It’s time for speeches or whatever.” He replies.

You run your fingers through Steve’s hair as his head lays on your chest. “You run into Sharon in the hall or was she long gone by the time you made it here?”

Steve pushes himself up. “Why would he run into Sharon?”

“Ah, so she didn’t go unnoticed afterall." Bucky chuckles. "I caught her trying to sneak back to the party. Literally ran right into me after she shut the door.”

“What’s going on?” Steve queries. 

“Sharon came looking for you and found you ravaging me instead. I’m surprised you didn't hear the door open with your Super Soldier hearing.” You answer.

He starts to laugh. “Good. I hope she enjoyed the show.”

You slap him on the back. “Scoundrel. What am I going to do with you? How would the world respond, knowing that their golden boy can be such a pervy asshole?”

“As long as I’m your pervy asshole, I don’t care.” He kisses your collarbone.

“Alright Stevie.” Bucky speaks up. “Get yourself cleaned up before Tony comes looking for you himself. Sooner we get this done with, the sooner I can get my dick wet.” He winks at you.

“Selfish Beast.” You tease him as Steve pulls out, He scoops any of his spend that’s leaked out onto his fingers and pushes them back inside you making you moan out.

“I’m gonna enjoy knowing I'm slowly leaking out of you the rest of the night.” He makes you lick his fingers clean. “Let’s see how long it takes before more is added shall we.”

“You go on ahead.” Buck calmly states. “I’m contributing my claim now. Hope you don't mind me using your office.”

“Just don't do anything stupid while I’m gone.” Steve responds as he opens the door and heads out into the hall.

“How can I, when you’re taking all the stupid with you?” Bucky shouts back, before locking the door behind him and making his way over to your still spread thighs.

“You are not nearly ruined enough for me to allow you out of here.” He circles your throat with his flesh hand. “Let me rectify that.”

#poc reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #thor x reader #thor smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #avengers au #avengers smut

[askthestans]

Dear Stanford Pines.

Remember your brother Stanley was running for office as a candidate for mayor? If you were selected as candidate instead, what do you think about what could have happened?

Stanford: I have always despised politics and politicians. They all need truth teeth permanently installed in their mouths, if you ask me. But if I hadn't been so busy trying to fix the rift problem last summer, I would have run for office, as well. Gravity Falls has been a good town to me, and after the chaos my work has brought upon it, it would have been an honor to make up for my mistakes as its most humble servant.

I would have focused on protecting both the people and the supernatural from each other, and the outside world. I would have given greater funding to the schools and library. I would remove every symbol of Bill Cipher around the town.

And most importantly, I’d have had statues erected of both Fiddleford and my brother as town and world heroes, right in the center of main street. Of course, it wouldn’t have said anything about what they did specifically - hence the ‘Never Mind All That’ act - but history should never forget them.

Stanley: I'm still a little upset that my criminal record got me canned as mayor. Yeesh, as if tons of other politicians have never done any crime! Hell, most of 'em still do it while they're in office! So what if I've got mob ties? So what if I've smuggled pugs and spent some nights in the big house? What matters is that my heart is big, and it's always in the right place. Also, an eagle kissed me. Can any other politician say that? No. Didn't think so.

Stanford: Actually, now that I think of it... you probably would have made a great mayor, Stan.

Stanley: What, you really think so?

Stanford: Of course! Remember when we got stuck on that Caribbean island after the Stan-O’-War II had run into rocks?

Stanley: Oh man, the one with that freak who hunted humans, right?

Stanford: Yes. We wouldn’t have survived without you!

Stanley: *His cheeks flush a little pink.* Oh, well... what can I say? All I did was convince the other people gettin’ hunted with us that turnin’ on each other was crap, and we should focus our efforts on the jerk in the mansion that put us there in the first place. I mean, why direct your anger at other people who had nothin’ to do with why you’re stuck somewhere bad? Why not direct it at the schmuck who actually needs his clock cleaned?

Stanford: By the end of the night, you were in that hunter’s chair in his expensive estate, smoking his pipe by his fireplace-

Stanley: Most expensive tobacco I ever had the pleasure of puffin’.

Stanford: And afterwards, you convinced the others to help everyone fix each other’s boats and share supplies so that we could all get off that cursed island.

Stanley: Heh, that was nothin’! ‘Sides, I did his belongings a favor. Man wasn’t classy enough to live in a place that nice with stuff that fancy. I was just sad we had to leave it. I love the Stan-O’-War, don’t get me wrong. But a mansion on a Caribbean island? Sure was cozy.

Stanford: That was ingenious, charismatic, righteous leadership, Stan. See what I mean? A perfect mayor.

Stanley: Aw, well... honestly, the only way I’d ever run for anything ever again is if you were my running mate. Forget bein’ a mayor! Just think if we were president and vice president? I’d do the talkin’, and you’d do the thinkin’. We’d be unstoppable! And we’d legalize mostly everything! Pines and Pines 2024.

Stanford: And give NASA a way bigger budget!

Stanley: And redecorate the White House with sad clown paintings!

Stanford: And don’t forget, we’d-

Stanley: Hah! I know exactly what you’re gonna say, Ford. Hold on, wait.

*They both give each other a knowing look. It’s one of those rare, nearly twin telepathy moments.*

Stanley and Stanford: Declare ourselves the official Kings of New Jersey!

*They both erupt into laughter.*

Stanley: Also, I’d make Congress duke it out in boxing matches on the House and Senate floors. And broadcast it on live TV! Teddy would be so proud!

Stanford: Do you think they’d let me get my official portrait painted with me flipping my two middle fingers?

#gravity falls #askthestans #stanley pines #stanford pines #yo actually I'd vote for the Stans #I think Stan would be president and Ford vice president #Pines and Pines 2024 #stan is the most dangerous game

[mpreg-nouveau]

Turn of the century omegaverse thoughts

Cause I'm a huge fucking history nerd and I was thinking about, what would omegaverse look like at different points in history/how would it effect history, and given the motif of this blog I thought I'd share some from 1900s-1910s.

Note, this is not me romanticising these concepts, just thinking about potential plotlines or ideas that COULD result from omegaverse being part of this point in the human time line, both good, bad, and just weird:

–omega sufferage movement along side women's sufferage

–the overlap between women’s rights movement and the issues of A/B/O hierarchies creating a lot of fuss and questions during the time, especially with news print and communication getting more and more wide spread.

–ex, it being considered ok for an alpha female to dress in men's clothing and do work as the primary breadwinner when her husband or wife is an omega, but what happens when she is with an alpha male who is socially EXPECTED to be the primary bread winner at the time? Is the woman supposed to quit her job and become a house wife upon marriage? She certainly doesn't think so and neither does her husband.

–i feel like the American hierarchy at the time is alpha male>alpha female=beta male>beta female=omega male=omega female.

–omegas using labor unions to fight for equal treatment and pay in new industrial settings.

--factories are hesitant to hire them because fearing their workers will go on heat regularly and slow down production. People having to hide that they are omegas to get work as a result. This was the time period where you could get fired for a work place injury after all.

–people coming to the States for the first time with different cultural expectations for the a/b/o dynamics and getting some culture shock from American life, whether american standards are stricter, less strict, or entirely flipped from their home perspectives.

–along with with the Gibson girl there's also the Gibson boy representing the dainty stereotype of omegas. 

–the new middle class and upper middle class suddenly being targeted by mass production industrial giants advertising new, useless creature comforts to build extravagant and gorgeous nests and dens

–patent medicines that are utterly worthless but advertise to act as heat suppressants, rut control, and to make your scent more appealing to others

–in order to pander to ideals of modernization and “civility” american upper crusts comparing their a/b/o status to various dog breeds instead of wolves. There's essentially a horoscope of sorts they've come up with to align themselves with specific dog breeds and the stereotypes there off.

– ex: “my father was an alpha bulldog type, and my mother a beta beagle designation, and because I was born on the 3rd Sunday in August as an omega, I am a jack Russell terrier designation.

–people keep harassing Arthur Conan Doyle for Watson and Sherlock’s canonic designation. This is what causes the poor man to lose it and start believing in fairies. 

–omega heat cars on trains for single individuals to hang out in and avoid perverts. Its meant as a kind gesture but instead just ends up playing into puritan culture surrounding omega bodies. 

–as electricity is being installed in more and more homes there's an irrational worry that the electrical circuits in the walls will mess with the cycles of heat and rut among some. 

–its completely unfounded but causes people to resist the switch anyways

–meanwhile there IS evidence that gas based light fixtures DO have negative effects on the body but everyone grew up with them “and I turned out ok so it must be fine”

–advent of widespread vaccines and better standards of sanitation means that entire litters of pups are surviving childhood now

–families that worried to name pups after they were born, as back in their home land it was rare for more than one per litter to survive, suddenly are having miracle litters. Every single pup is ending up getting spoiled by these families who expected the worst.

–new ridiculous electric inventions come out catering to beautification and a/b/o fertility care. One is a body massage device that supposedly increases the chances of having a healthy and fruitful pregnancy….it's essentially a hand held belly rub machine. 

– most of the US was still rural and isolated from the cities at this time. Few had ventured 20 miles from their home town. Rural parents worrying about their omega children marrying people from the city…because of a genuine yet misguided fear of their kids getting so overwhelmed by all the new scents  in the city that they will immediately have a seizure and die. 

–during the turn of the century it was already fairly common for kids to wear gender neutral, play safe clothing like gowns all the way up to 8 years old, so gender neutral clothing being common until a kid presents for the first time.

–classes getting divided into alphas, omegas, and betas in some puritanical schools in order to “protect the children” as the new US mandatory  public school system is getting hammered out

–packs becoming a looser term for more wide social circles rather than relatives or clans due to migration of people both into the nation and throughout. 

–Ex: woman forming packs based on sharing supplies in a new city with each other, or packs surrounding shared interest in activities like sewing or books

–the Boston Red Sox declare themselves a pack one day.

–I feel like a lot of politicians pretend to be alphas for status

–teddy Roosevelt secretly being an omega but nobody realizes this cause he's constantly covered in wood ash and various funk from his game hunting and overtly manly activities. Everyone just assumes he's an alpha between that and his personality.

(Edit: clarification on the last one, this is a joke about how the guy had horrible asthma and other chronic health issues especially while young, which for most people at the time would mean a very short life span, but no one knew because the dude compensated with so much exercise and other extreme health stuff you could do at the time you could not tell. Dude even took a bullet to the chest midway through a speech and then finished said speech. Dude basically made himself a stereotype of an "alpha male")

#omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #turn of the century #alternate history #historical fantasy #a/b/o

[lheslie]

Friendship

Yeonwoo has a very strict schedule which makes him unable to go out and make friends.

He also needs to go to prestigious schools in order to get 'better' education.

Even though Yeonwoo has a gentle and kind personality and is very kind to his classmates and the people around him. He never really thought of them as friends.

The term 'friend' can only be applied to someone you trust or If they went through relatable that you had gone through or if they've done something that you would be forever thankful for. Someone who's there through your ups and down in your life.

But in his life, he never really felt any of those, while talking and interacting with different people. They're only either interested in his intelligence, looks, status and power.

It makes him feel empty. most of the times he just wants it to be over.

One day a student transferred.

Him and the transfer student never really talked. He was busy studying and the transfer student barely interacted with anyone.

One day results of the exams came out and to Yeonwoo's shock someone had bested him in every subject obtaining the first spot.

Yeonwoo's father. Hearing this enraged him yelling at Yeonwoo.

Making Yeonwoo feel a huge hole inside his heart.

Yeonwoo was always at the Top making his father's mind at ease knowing his son is at the top.

Now he just wanted to install a camera inside Yeonwoo's bedroom again to monitor him.

And so he did. Forcing Yeonwoo go back through his old life.

Attending school was harder for him as his spirits went lower. But if anyone noticed it he'd get punished again.

Unfortunately one day at one Subject Yeonwoo and the new transfer student were paired up.

Sitting at a table sitting infront of him was the person who had made his life miserable again.

But he is forced into pairing up with them. The person infront of him didn't even look like they were trying to do the work that was given.

"I'm Y/N" Nice to meet you they introduce as Yeonwoo introduced himself.

This went on for sometime. And everytime Yeonwoo looks at Y/N he has this feeling that he wants to do something wrong.

He worked hard to have so little freedom that was taken away from him. Because of you.

Everytime the results came out you were at the top.

And everytime you sat infront of Yeonwoo you'd notice his eyes being dark and empty.

'He doesn't like me does he? It's not like I care anyways' You thought to yourself continuing to do your part of the work.

One day walking around to relax yourself.

You've stumbled upon Yeonwoo walking home.

'Its him.' You watched and started following him.

He went inside a house and you presumed that it was his.

You had nothing to do so you were about to walk home then you heard someone yelling.

You listened and you could hear "Why aren't you top again?"

Your eyes widen at the realization as to why Yeonwoo might not like you.

You stayed there listening all night.

Until the yelling stopped.

Tomorrow morning during classes it was time for that Subject where you and Yeonwoo would be paired.

You did what you do as usual. And would look at Yeonwoo. You sighed and started to feel bad.

You also had strict 'relatives.'

Your parents had died. And you were taken in by relatives. Who'd basically slap your adoption to your face that you should study to make good money so one day you may repay their kindess of feeding and clothing you.

You hated knowing that someone is suffering the same thing and is suffering twice because of you.

"I'm sorry." You spoke. And Yeonwoo replied "E-excuse me??" He said getting snapped to reality.

After saying that it was time for break and you walked away.

The next time results came out and Yeonwoo was back on top again.

Which caused shock to Yeonwoo. And when the results came out the project you both were working on had ended.

Yeonwoo's mind was suddenly blank. He wanted to know what had happen and you suddenly came out at 5th.

He tried looking for you but unfortunately you were already gone.

The next day. He saw you again at the library laying your head down. And he smiled and kindly approached you.

He sat down and asked why your grades had went down.

"You know why. And I'm sorry. You don't deserve that."

Yeonwoo understand what you meant by that.

"So you know." He said as he was silent. "I also have strict relatives.

"They're clearly weren't happy if my grades were low."

"Then why would you-"

"I don't care anymore. They're not going to stop anyway and it's my life."

You sighed. And walked out.

You always hung out at the library. And Yeonwoo would make some opportunity to go and see you.

Never in his life had he been thankful for someone. Nor someone who had known his condition.

And you. You just pitied him.

"I'll teach you how to live a balanced life." You said as you looked at him.

"Excuse me??" He said.

"You're probably shocked on how I get to do various things while being top"

"I am. Would you care to explain how?" he nicely asked.

"Sure"

A friendship had bloomed between the both of you.

You were both smart and hardworking.

You both had chains holding you down. And you both just wanted to breathe.

And you finally can. But seeing someone suffocate because of you also made you remembered how hard it is.

You even started to visit his house. Befriending his father. Manipulating him into thinking you're a good influence in his eyes.

You were a good influence. In a non toxic way.

This had cause Yeonwoo's father trusting you and letting Yeonwoo do study sessions with you.

His grades went up, and he got to smell and taste freedom.

He started opening up to you even more and his liking with Kyokushin Karate which made you smile.

He started to train and you never seen his eyes lit up like that.

So you trained with him.

And since his grades are up high. His father had removed the camera inside his room.

His chains was still there. But the amount of freedom you gave him was enough.

He had finally found someone being worthy to be called his friend.

Then the Taehoon incident happened freeing him truly.

"Who knew beating you up like that was the key to your freedom?"

"If I knew that was the Key I would've done it a long time ago."

"I can finally practice Kyokushin Karate freely. Maybe if I also fought with you like what Taehoon did. You'd be able to break free from your relatives?"

"Nah, I'm just tryna make sure I'd get my parents insurance."

#how to fight #htf #viral hit #how to fight x reader #viral hit x reader #how to fight yeonwoo #htf yeonwoo #viral hit yeonwoo

[catladywriter]

Inotan Fanfic: Drinking Party

Synopsis: Tanjirou, Inosuke and Zenitsu decide to have a drinking party with the drinks Tengen had brewed himself and gifted Tanjirou for his 18th birthday. Tanjirou, who had seen the dark side of alcohol, volunteered to stay sober and watch over his friends. But a mix-up happened and Tanjirou ended up drinking the wrong drink. As he got progressively drunk, Inosuke and Zenitsu have to deal with his drunken antics. Will they survive the night?

Pairing: Inotan (Inosuke x Tanjirou)

Setting: Canon AU, 3 years after the main story ends

Wordcount: ~4700 words

Status: One-shot Complete. 5th story in the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom.

While this story can be enjoyed on its own, readers who have read the previous installments in the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom may appreciate certain references and throwbacks as well as the character development throughout the series. If you can spare the time, I do recommend reading the earlier stories in consecutive order before diving into this one.

To recap, our main characters reside together in the Kamado family household, and they operate an eatery in the neighboring town known as the Wisteria Garden. In this installment, Inosuke and Tanjirou are 18 years old, Zenitsu is 19, and Nezuko is 17.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tanjirou had just turned eighteen a few days ago, when he received a surprising and extravagant gift from Tengen: a wooden crate overflowing with gleaming bottles of grape wine and grape juice, all brewed with care from Tengen’s very own vineyard. Tengen and his wives had arrived at their doorstep with the crate in tow, and with a wide grin, he exclaimed, “Happy birthday, Tanjirou! These are my special brews, the finest in all the land. I only share them with my most flamboyant friends. You should throw a drinking party with your buddies and celebrate like a true man!”

Zenitsu was ecstatic about Tengen’s idea. He had never had a drinking party before, but he’d heard about the magic of alcohol - how it could make one really relaxed, and as someone high strung, he really needed it. He sneered at his friends and called them country bumpkins when they didn’t share his excitement.  Inosuke said he was more interested in food than drinks, but when Zenitsu waxed lyrical about how drinking was such a mature and cool thing to do for adults, and how you could do things you never did, he was sold. The ideal chance arose when Nezuko was going to spend the night away babysitting the neighbours’ kids and wouldn't be back until the next day. They would have the whole house to themselves. They could unleash their inner beasts and drink to their hearts’ content.

Tanjirou, however, was less enthusiastic about drinking. He had witnessed the dark side of alcohol. He remembered how Senjurou’s father, the former Flame Hashira, had degenerated from a proud and noble warrior into a bitter and broken man who mistreated his sons and neglected his duties. He had recovered only after a long and painful struggle.

Tanjirou knew that drinking moderately to celebrate happy occasions was fine for most people, but he wasn’t willing to take that risk. Tengen had warned that the alcohol content in his wine was quite high. What if he lost control or hurt someone he cared about? He preferred to avoid that possibility. Besides, someone needed to stay sober, in case things got out of hand. He hoped to spare Nezuko from finding the house in chaos or worse, and he was the best person for the job. If Zenitsu or Inosuke got out of hand, he could always calm them down with his trusty headbutt.

“What? You’re not going to drink? That’s lame!” Inosuke protested, pouting at Tanjirou’s decision when Tanjirou said he would stick to grape juice.

“Yea! You’re such a wet blanket! Tengen would think you’re being ungrateful,” Zenitsu chimed in.

But when Tanjirou reminded Zenitsu that Nezuko might be upset if she saw him drunk and making a scene, Zenitsu quickly changed his mind and sided with Tanjirou. “You’re right! I don’t want to disappoint Nezuko-chan! I’m counting on you to keep my image intact! Heh.”

Inosuke was outnumbered and left alone to grumble.

*

Nezuko had prepared rice crackers for their drinking party, leaving them to cook over a low fire. 

“They’ll be crispy and fragrant by the time you’re ready,” she said with a smile. “Enjoy yourselves, but don’t go overboard, okay?” 

After she left, Tanjirou went to get the rice crackers, with Inosuke following him like a hungry puppy. Zenitsu stayed behind to fetch the drinks. He opened the crate and pulled out a glass bottle with a cork. He frowned. The liquid inside shimmered like pale liquid gold, catching the light of the lamps. But there was nothing to indicate what its contents were, except a label that had Tengen’s grinning face and his name written in flamboyant calligraphy. 

He took out a few more bottles. They all looked the same, with similar shades of pale yellow, except for one detail: half of them had Tengen wearing his fancy bejeweled headband with his hair braided; the other half had Tengen with his hair let down, a black bejeweled eye patch across his left eye.

“What kind of stupid labels are these? How am I supposed to tell them apart?” Zenitsu muttered to himself, turning the bottles this way and that to find any words that may indicate their contents. He guessed the different portraits were supposed to tell the difference between the grape juice and the wine, but he had no clue which was which. 

Besides, Tengen had mentioned that he was planning to mass produce these for sale. Zenitsu shuddered as he thought of seeing an entire shelf of Tengen’s stupidly handsome mug smiling down at him at their neighbourhood store. Well, if this was his idea of clever packaging, Zenitsu would give him an earful of what he thought the next time he saw him.

Zenitsu unscrewed the corks off two of the bottles with different labels, and took a tentative sniff. They had different scents: one had a sweet and fruity scent, while the other had a sharp and tangy scent. Without any prior experience with wine or juice, Zenitsu was at a loss. He had heard of and read about juice and wine when he lived in the city, but he had never actually seen or tasted them before. Not that he admitted that to his friends. He had pretended to be an expert on these exotic drinks and teased them for being ignorant country bumpkins. So he would look really stupid if he confessed that he couldn’t tell them apart after all. Inosuke would never let him hear the end of it.

As he tried to figure out which bottle was which, he heard a commotion outside. It sounded like Tanjirou was trying to stop Inosuke from hogging all the rice crackers.

“Oh no! They’re going to eat all the rice crackers! I don’t have time for this!” Zenitsu exclaimed as he grabbed the two bottles and dashed out. Tanjirou could get drunk for all he cared, but no way was he going to miss out on Nezuko-chan’s delicious rice crackers. Besides, it wasn’t such a big deal if Tanjirou did drink some wine, right? If there was a mistake, they would probably notice it midway and switch.

*

The party started on a cheerful note. They sat cross-legged on the tatami floor, with their rice crackers and drinks in front of them. Zenitsu gave Tanjirou a bottle that had Tengen’s portrait with an eyepatch and loose hair, thinking that it was grape juice instead of wine. He reasoned that Tengen would match his flamboyant Hashira look from his demon slaying days with the alcoholic drink, and leave the “retired” portrait for the non-alcoholic one. He kept this deduction to himself, though, and told Tanjirou with a confident smile, “Trust me, I know these things.” He then poured two glasses from the other bottle for himself and Inosuke. They were pleasantly surprised by the drink, which was crisp and refreshing, and went perfectly with Nezuko’s delicious rice crackers.

As they savoured their supper, Inosuke tried his best to convince Tanjirou to take a sip of his drink. But Tanjirou, true to his principles, politely declined, offering his own drink around instead. Zenitsu and Inosuke both took a sip, and made comically exaggerated faces after sampling it.

"Bleh! This is weird! I don't know how to explain it, but it makes my mouth feel dry and rough!" Zenitsu complained. He stuck out his tongue and grimaced.

"My throat feels like it's on fire!" Inosuke gasped after swallowing a huge gulp, his usual bravado momentarily subdued by the unexpected taste.

Tanjirou raised an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by their reactions. “Really? I find it has a refreshing and complex smell. It has a nice spicy flavour too, I quite enjoy it,” he remarked, taking another sip to reinforce his point.

“Ditch that awful stuff and drink with us! We’re still sober, see? Alcohol’s got nothing on us!” Inosuke urged.

Nevertheless, Tanjirou refused. Knowing that Tanjirou had strong principles and could be stubborn when he wanted to be, Zenitsu and Inosuke shrugged it off and continued their cheerful imbibing.

As the night went on and more cups were emptied, the drinking seemed to be taking a peculiar toll on Tanjirou. His cheeks flushed a crimson red. To add to the amusement, Tanjirou became unusually talkative, frequently interrupting Zenitsu and Inosuke mid-sentence with wild anecdotes and boisterous laughter. While Tanjirou had always been chatty, he was also an attentive listener, making sure not to interrupt someone else’s story. However, that night, he seemed to be too caught up in his own tales.

Inosuke didn’t seem bothered at all. If anything, he regarded this as a contest and all he kept wanting to do was to talk over Tanjirou and one-up him with crazier stories. But Zenitsu knew something was off. He was not familiar with the smells and taste of alcohol, but he had witnessed how drunkards behaved in the buzzing city of Shinjuku where he used to live. Boisterous men stumbling out of the izakayas in the alley ways, hanging all over each other, slurring, laughing, clothes in disarray. Tanjirou wasn’t nearly there yet, but judging by his odd mannerisms and the way he had started to slur his words, Zenitsu knew, with a pang of guilt, that he had given Tanjirou alcohol by mistake.

As if proving Zenitsu’s fears, Tanjirou began clumsily removing his haori, almost getting an arm stuck in the process.

“It’s so hot tonight!” Tanjirou grumbled despite the cool night breeze that had just come in through the open window.

He managed to undo the top few buttons of his shirt after a huge struggle, but he fumbled and stopped halfway. He looked down at his chest, as though he was suddenly confused by how buttons work.

“I’ve always said shirts are dumb,” Inosuke declared, delighted to see Tanjirou join the shirtless club. “You’re so weird tonight though. You can’t even find your button. Here, let me help you.” He leaned over, but Zenitsu quickly interrupted.

He shoved Inosuke aside and asked, “Hey Tanjirou, let’s swap drinks? I want yours.”

He reached over to snatch Tanjirou’s bottle, but Tanjirou grabbed it and hugged it protectively to his chest.

“I offered it earlier and you didn’t want it, so it’s all~ mine~ now~ hic!” He said in a sing-song voice, then proceeded to take a gulp directly from the bottle.

"Oh no, this is terrible. This is a disaster." Zenitsu groaned inwardly. However, there was nothing he could do about it now. The bottle was near empty anyway, and he supposed he would try to offer Tanjirou grape juice instead if he asked for more drinks. He prayed the alcohol had dulled Tanjirou’s sense of smell so he wouldn’t tell the difference.

“This is all Tengen’s fault, his stupid and misleading labelling!” he muttered under his breath.

But then again, if Tanjirou wanted to stay drunk, then so be it, Zenitsu thought. It’s not like he had done anything harmful or dangerous aside from acting weird. He had just been more talkative, laughing at everything, and spouting silly nonsense, which was kind of endearing. If he continued just behaving like that, it wasn’t the end of the world. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? All right, maybe Tanjirou would break into a song and Inosuke would follow, which might hurt his ear drums a bit, but he’d worry about that when it happened. 

He decided to sit back and try to make the best of their party, although it wasn’t the cloud nine experience he was hoping for. Tanjirou was drunk, and Inosuke acted as if he was too, despite not drinking. He was ironically the only sober man in the party, but he still enjoyed the night with good food and good company. He had to admit that Tengen’s grape juice was delicious, regardless of his dislike for the wine.

The night dragged on, and Zenitsu soon changed his mind about “good company”. Inosuke and Tanjirou’s stories made no sense, and their voices were loud and annoying. He wondered how Inosuke could keep up with Tanjirou’s drunken ramblings, and how they seemed to have a perfect rapport. They would have looked like two people in a regular conversation if not for the fact that their stories were absurd. He felt a flicker of awe and envy. He knew they were a couple, but he still marvelled at their ability to stay on the same wavelength.

He was about to tune out their conversation, when Tanjirou suddenly interrupted Inosuke’s tale of his butterfly-eating escapades.

“Oh, let me tell you about the time Takeo ate a bee by mistake!” Tanjirou blurted out, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Enough with the insect eating stories! They're gross!” Zenitsu complained, plugging his ears with his fingers. But Tanjirou ignored him and continued his story, oblivious to Zenitsu’s protests.

“You know,” Tanjirou said, his voice turning nostalgic. He stared at the half-eaten rice cracker in his hand, as if it reminded him of something. “Takeo really loved rice crackers. The ones that Mother made.”

He paused to swallow, and Zenitsu noticed that his voice was shaky. “He would have been so happy to join us today, to taste Nezuko’s rice crackers, and see that they’re just as good as Mother’s. But he won’t get to… because I’m such a useless big brother…”

A sob escaped Tanjirou’s lips, and tears streamed down his face.

Zenitsu and Inosuke exchanged alarmed looks,  their amusement instantly replaced by concern and horror at Tanjirou's distress.

“Tanjirou, you’re not a useless big brother! You’ve done so much to save Nezuko-chan!” Zenitsu exclaimed, reaching out to comfort his friend with a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“But I lost Takeo, Hanako, Rokuta, Shigeru… Mother…” Tanjirou whimpered, his voice breaking with sorrow.

Inosuke quickly wrapped his arms around Tanjirou, hugging him tightly and stroking his hair.

“Don’t cry! You have us! We’re your family, and we’ll be together forever!”

Tanjirou suddenly climbed on top of Inosuke’s lap and straddled him. In a sweet voice, he whispered into his ear, “You always make me feel secure~ You’re really the best, Inosuke~” He wrapped his arms around Inosuke’s neck and kissed him passionately on the lips.

Inosuke froze, too stunned to react to Tanjirou’s sudden open show of affection. Tanjirou only showered him with affection when they were alone. He had explained that it was inappropriate and inconsiderate to display affection in front of other people. Even if Inosuke sometimes broke that rule, Tanjirou refrained from kissing him in any shared space inside their house. And certainly not in front of Zenitsu, who had gone all slack-jawed and googly-eyed from watching his best friend’s bizarre behaviour.

A surge of heat and passion made him lose his mind. He only knew that Tanjirou was kissing him like there was no tomorrow, claiming his mouth with his tongue, biting his lips, and trailing down to his ear and neck. Tanjirou’s tongue felt like a flame that burned Inosuke’s skin wherever it touched. His breath was hot, and it had the same taste and smell as the drink that had made him cough before, but now, it was intoxicating and addictive. In fact, it felt amazing, here.

Inosuke felt a rush of sensation from their touch. His body was on fire and his heart was racing. He couldn’t think clearly, only feel. He rolled them over, pinning Tanjirou under him, and kissed him with a fierce passion. He pressed his lips to Tanjirou’s again and again, his hands roaming with a hungry and reckless need, undoing the rest of Tanjirou’s shirt.

Something hit his head hard, making him wince. It was a zabuton. Inosuke shrugged it off, and kept kissing Tanjirou. Another zabuton hit him, followed by Tanjirou’s haori, and then the wooden cup that he had been drinking from. That one stung. He stopped kissing Tanjirou, threw the haori off and glared at the source of the projectiles.

“Idiot Monitsu! What’s your problem?! That really hurts!” Inosuke shouted at Zenitsu, who was holding a plate ready to throw it at him.

“Good!” Zenitsu shouted back. “I’m trying to stop you, you dumb horny boar! Don’t you get it? He’s drunk! I messed up and gave him the wine by mistake!”

“So what?!” Inosuke snapped, baring his teeth in anger.

“So he’s not in his right mind right now, he doesn’t know what he’s doing!”

“Of course he does!” Inosuke argued. “He’s upset and kissing makes him happy!”

“No way!” Zenitsu shook his head. He crawled over to Tanjirou, who was lying on the floor, eyes dazed and muttering incoherently. “Look at him! He’s been acting weird since we started drinking! Trust me, I’m serious. It’s the alcohol messing with him. I can hear his breathing and heartbeat, they’re not normal, this is not the time to be kissing!” Zenitsu said anxiously.

Inosuke felt torn between his frustration and concern for Tanjirou. He knew he had to stop, though. If Tanjirou was genuinely unwell, he couldn't risk making him worse. Even without Zenitsu's warning, Inosuke could sense that Tanjirou's heartbeat and breathing were too fast for comfort.

“Inosuke…!” Tanjirou struggled to sit up, nuzzling against him, his voice high and breathless.

“He’s right,” Inosuke said softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and stroking his back with the other hand. “You need to get well first. Then I’ll kiss you as much as you want, okay?”

Tanjirou lowered his head and muttered under his breath. Turning to face Zenitsu, his eyes widened with recognition, as if he had just noticed him in the room for the first time. Without warning, he lunged at Zenitsu, causing both of them to tumble to the floor.

“Zenitsu~ you’re such a great guy, do you know that?” He planted a kiss on Zenitsu’s cheek.

Two sets of frantic screams echoed around the living room.

“Eeyarrrgh!!! I swore to Nezuko-chan I’d only let her kiss me!!!” Zenitsu wailed in panic.

“Idiot Gompachirou!!! Why did you kiss him?!!” Inosuke growled, yanking Tanjirou off Zenitsu.

Then, he grabbed Zenitsu by the collar, shaking him furiously. "You did this on purpose! You gave him the wrong drink and got him drunk so he'd kiss you!"

“Are you drunk too?! Why would I do that!!” Zenitsu sputtered with indignation as he tried to pry Inosuke’s fingers off his collar.

"Hey," Tanjirou interjected weakly, looking dazed and confused. "Are you fighting? Please don't. I love you both, don't want to see you hurt."

He got to his knees and tried to hug them both, but he stumbled and fell onto Zenitsu. Shrugging off the mishap, he simply hugged him tighter.

“I’m going to die and I didn’t even leave any last words for Nezuko-chan,” Zenitsu whimpered, feeling trapped under Tanjirou's limp body, while Inosuke maintained his fierce grip on his collar, glaring daggers at him.

“You mustn’t hit him, Inosuke. Zenitsu’s our best friend and brother, remember?” Tanjirou slurred, his eyes half-closed as he hugged Zenitsu’s waist.

Inosuke took a deep breath and released his grip on Zenitsu’s collar. He knew Zenitsu was telling the truth. Tanjirou was acting under the influence of alcohol. It was pointless to blame Zenitsu for his actions.

“That’s enough, you’re going to bed,” he said firmly, tugging Tanjirou by the arms to pull him off Zenitsu.

“Why do you keep pushing me away, Zenitsu? Do you not like me?” Tanjirou asked, his voice hurt and confused. He wriggled free from Inosuke’s grip and reached out to grab Zenitsu’s haori.

Inosuke grabbed Tanjirou around the waist and tried to pull him backwards. The sudden movement seemed to have triggered Tanjirou’s stomach. Without warning, he gave a lurch and spewed a stream of vomit all over Zenitsu.

Zenitsu stared down at his soaked clothes, too shocked to speak for a moment. The acrid smell of vomit assaulted his nose and made his eyes water.

Then he let out a shriek. “I hate you!!! Tanjiroooou!!!”

*

Zenitsu felt calmer after taking a bath and scrubbing his clothes clean. He had let go of his anger, and now he only felt worried about Tanjirou. He walked into the bedroom, where he saw Tanjirou sleeping soundly in his futon with a wet towel on his forehead. The redness on Tanjirou’s face had faded a bit, showing that the alcohol was wearing off. He looked peaceful and innocent, like nothing had happened.

Inosuke was sitting next to Tanjirou, holding his wrist in his hand. He had a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he was checking his heartbeat.

“He’s getting better now,” Inosuke said, noticing Zenitsu in the room.

“Yeah, he threw up most of the alcohol, so he should be fine now,” Zenitsu reassured him. “But if you’re still worried, we can keep an eye on him. I just finished bathing, so I’m wide awake and can take the first watch if you’d like.”

Inosuke agreed with a nod. “Wake me up if something goes wrong. I’m too wired to really sleep anyway.”

“Sure,” Zenitsu said, sitting down next to Tanjirou’s futon. He leaned back against the wall. The lantern light made the room cosy and warm. Everything was quiet for a long while, and the rhythmic sound of Tanjirou’s steady breathing was soothing to hear. Eventually, satisfied that Tanjirou was well, he drifted off to the sound of Tanjirou’s even breaths and Inosuke’s snores.

*

Tanjirou groaned as he sat up. His head throbbed as if someone had hammered a nail into his skull. His body felt like lead, weighing him down. He squinted his eyes open and winced at the bright sunlight that flooded the window. He scanned the bedroom and found it empty of Inosuke or Zenitsu. He racked his brain for what happened last night, but his memory was fuzzy. All he could remember was sitting on the floor with his friends, talking and laughing. Then nothing.

He wanted to go back to sleep, but his mouth was parched and he felt a sudden urge to go. With a sigh, he dragged himself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. After relieving himself and splashing some water on his face, he felt slightly more refreshed and alive. He headed for the kitchen, following his nose to the source of a charred smell.

He spotted Inosuke and Zenitsu by the stove, clad in aprons and wielding spatulas.

“Tanjirou! How are you?” Inosuke hurried over to him and gave him his hand to help him sit at the table.

“I’m okay, I think. But uh… something’s burning,” Tanjirou remarked.

“Oh, that’s just the rice. It’s still edible though.” Zenitsu said sheepishly.

He set a steaming cup of hot green tea before Tanjirou. “Here, drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”

“Hangover?” Tanjirou echoed in confusion. He sipped the tea and felt it ease his throat and relax his nerves.

“Yeah, you drank a lot of wine last night.” Zenitsu admitted.

“I did? But I thought I had grape juice?” Tanjirou asked in disbelief.

“Sorry, there was a mistake and you got the wine instead.” Zenitsu apologised.

“Oh no! What have I done? Did I hurt anyone? Was I violent?” Tanjirou fretted.

“Erm, quite the opposite.” Zenitsu sniggered. Looking back, the whole ordeal seemed quite funny to him now that he was out of harm’s way.

Zenitsu cleared his throat and began to explain. He awkwardly skimmed over Tanjirou’s grief over his family, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to embellish the more humorous aspects of the previous night. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he described in painstaking detail how Tanjirou had seduced and made out with Inosuke right in the middle of the living room, in front of Zenitsu’s shocked eyes. He took delight in the way Tanjirou’s expression morphed from confusion to extreme mortification.

Tanjirou felt his face heat up with embarrassment and shame. He looked at Inosuke with wide eyes, hoping to see any reaction to indicate that this wasn’t true, the look they sometimes shared when Zenitsu was being his usual dramatic self, exaggerating and distorting the facts, making mountains out of molehills.

But Inosuke just quirked an eyebrow at him, making Tanjirou feel even more flustered.

“I’m so sorry, Inosuke. I don’t remember anything. I don’t know what came over me. But I know that’s no excuse, and I promise I won’t do it again. Please forgive me,” Tanjirou apologised profusely.

“I’ll forgive you, but only if you do it again. While sober.” Inosuke said with a smirk.

“Wha…?” Tanjirou gasped.

“Seriously?” Zenitsu rolled his eyes. “Quit flirting in front of me already. I’m the real victim here! You not only scarred my eyes, but went on to kiss me. You’d better take responsibility for it,” he said in a mock-angry tone.

Suppressing his laughter, Zenitsu observed with amusement as Tanjirou’s face contorted with horror and disgust. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and his cheeks turned even more crimson than it already was. 

“I’m so sorry, Zenitsu!” Tanjirou sobbed. “I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll do anything you ask me to!” He said in a desperate voice.

"You won't!" Inosuke snapped. "Don't listen to that idiot. You only kissed him on the cheek."

"Only? Weren't you the one who got mad about that and tried to kill me?" Zenitsu retorted.

"Don't exaggerate! I only grabbed your collar and shook you a bit!"

"A bit?! I thought my teeth would fall out!"

Tanjirou was horrified that his drunken antics had caused his best friends to fight. He wished a hole would open up in the ground and swallow him up.

"I'm so, so sorry, Zenitsu, Inosuke! I used to kiss my siblings on the cheek when they were little. It was just meant to be affection and nothing else. Please forgive me," Tanjirou pleaded.

"Well, just don't get drunk again," Inosuke huffed.

"Haha, that's all right," Zenitsu chuckled. "I was just teasing you. I'm more upset about you throwing up on me, really."

"Oh no, I did that too? I'm so terribly sorry." Tanjirou groaned, feeling like the worst person in the world. 

They started on their breakfast of slightly burnt rice and miso soup. Tanjirou apologised over and over again between mouthfuls of rice until Inosuke threatened to stuff his mouth with rice balls. He ate quietly after that, but he still looked miserable.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You only got drunk, and no one got hurt. Besides, I won’t tell Nezuko-chan.” Zenitsu grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thanks.” Tanjirou said, grateful that Zenitsu understood his worries. He was relieved that Nezuko was away and didn’t witness his embarrassing drunken behaviour. However, his confusion over his antics was still unresolved.

“You know,” he ventured. ”When Senjurou’s father was addicted to sake, he would yell at Senjurou when he got drunk. So… I thought everyone got violent and abusive when they drink. And, not that I think such behaviour is any better, but why did I behave differently?” Tanjirou asked.

Zenitsu pondered for a moment before responding. “Well, as the saying goes, a drunk mind will speak the heart. Senjurou’s father drank because he was angry, so drinking made him get angrier. But as for you, you’re full of affection for everyone, so that translates into, uh… affectionate behaviour for you. Your drunk self is an extension of your true self, even if what you do when you’re drunk isn’t what you would do when sober.”

“Oh,” Tanjirou said, still unsure about the revelation. He steeled his resolve to stay away from alcohol. On the bright side, as Zenitsu had said, at least no one got hurt.

Suddenly, he felt Inosuke’s arm around his shoulder.

“You really wanted to kiss me that much, huh?” Inosuke teased, his voice low and playful.

“Eh?” Tanjirou turned to look at him, slightly flustered. He saw Inosuke’s face close to his, his emerald green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I promised you that when you stop being drunk, I’d kiss you as much as you wanted. And you’re fine now, so…” Inosuke said, trailing off.

Before Tanjirou could say anything, Inosuke leaned in and pressed his lips against his.

An irate Zenitsu took his bowl out of the dining room, not wanting to witness any further display of affection between the stupid couple.

Next Story in the series: Pretty Privilege (Link TBA)

「 ✦ Please support your creators by reblogging ✦ 」

Author's Notes: Tanjirou would totally be the kind of drunk who kisses and hugs all his friends because he loves them so much! I had a lot of fun writing drunk Tanjirou and his interactions with Inosuke. Inosuke, being easily influenced, goes along with his drunk behaviour without even questioning it. They really are soul mates on the same wavelength, aren't they? And poor Zenitsu is the butt-monkey again. But well, giving someone alcohol when they didn’t want it is deplorable ok! I did some research on the types of drunks, and I thought Inosuke and Zenitsu were rather predictable. Inosuke would be the angry drunk who challenges everyone to fights. Zenitsu would get increasingly depressed as he drinks. It made me wonder what pure-hearted cinnamon roll Tanjirou would be like. And I decided that he’d dwell on some of his tragic past, but at the same time he’d also try to shower affection on the good friends in his company. Also, I’ve finally regained the ability to write one-shots! Yay! This is surprisingly my shortest work so far *looks at word count*, but ironically, one that I spent the most amount of time researching. I tried to get the appearance, scents and taste of the drinks right (it’s white wine and grape juice both made with green grapes. I hope that was clear 🥺) , but if anything sounds off, I blame it on Tengen messing up the brewing process lol. Obviously, I also spent a lot of time working on the scene where Tanjirou tried to jump Inosuke ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) . I hope the transition from harmless funny drunk behaviour to this evokes a “well that escalated quickly” feeling. Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my fic, it’d really make my day if you could drop a like, reblog, and/or comment to let me know! This story is also published on AO3 where you can comment anonymously! Although I mostly write for myself, your encouragement keeps me motivated to post and share my work.

#inotan #inosuke x tanjirou #inosuke hashibira #tanjirou kamado #inotan fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fandom #kny fanfic #kny fluff #kimetsu tanjiro #demon slayer fic #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kimetsu inosuke #catlady writes #kny #kamado tanjiro #hashibira inosuke #zenitsu #drunk kisses

[lazaruspiss]

Historic Gotham: Part Three

Tricorner Armory: The Tricorner Armory was built and used by the Hamilton family for generations as a supply depot for their armaments business. The heir to the family fortune - Catherine Kane (née Hamilton) - inherited the business, which boomed under her guidance. Her husband, Jacob Kane, also used the armory for a time to store equipment while Kane Tower was being renovated. The armory was emptied out when Catherine Kane became police commissioner. Some of the gangs tried to hijack the transport trucks, but the Kanes had hired a very competent security team. Since then, the building has been used by many of Gotham's criminals to conduct illegal deals away from prying eyes.

One of the first deals I ever stopped was at the armory. According to GCPD records, it was about two million dollars' worth of weapons. Not bad for a day's work! - T. D.

GCPD Central: This is the central precinct of the Gotham City Police Department. It houses the detective division -- where Renee Montoya works -- central patrol and allows pre-trial holding for the Gotham City Courthouse. The Bat-Signal used to sit on the rooftop of the building but it was taken down when Catherine Kane became the new police commissioner. Many of the vents and windows I used to sneak in through have been blocked or shut closed, which makes accessing the building much more difficult. Unfortunately, since Jim Gordon's death, corruption seems to have risen in the ranks. One of the main reasons for this was the creation of the Major Crimes Unit, an armored task force dedicated to stopping vigilantes and criminals alike. Officers in this division often abuse their power and are known to take bribes. It's safe to say that cooperation between vigilantes and the GCPD is now officially at an end.

James Gordon Memorial: Originally, this was the Gotham City Police Memorial, where the Wall of Honor and the eternal flame were installed in the 1970s. The plaza was expanded two years ago to add a memorial for commissioner James Gordon, after his death in the line of duty, and the memorial was renamed accordingly. Engraved on the front of the statue is a quote from Jim, reading: "Gotham has called, and we have answered. And we will never abandon her." Even though it's been two years since he passed, the people haven't abandoned Jim either. They still bring flowers to the memorial regularly. Gotham City will be forever in your debt, my friend, and we'll do our best to keep her safe.

You may be gone, dad, but I know you're still watching over me and the city you loved so much. I miss you. - B. G.

Powers Club: Named after the Powers Brothers banking family, the Powers Club occupies the mansion and former residence of the late Gloria Powers. The Powers estate was built in 1864 and has seen many renovations, like the addition of an aviary. Following Gloria's death in 1973, the house was left abandoned for many years, until the stock market boom of the 1980s. The mansion was then transformed into a private-members club that strictly caters to Gotham's elite and is protected by a private security firm. I've attended a few soirees myself, but they always left me feeling nauseated. Perhaps the overabundant taxidermy just got to me. I haven't returned to the Powers Club for a few years now, but I suspect many backroom deals are still being made within the walls of the manor.

Martha Wayne Foundation: The Martha Wayne Foundation was created by my mother a few years before her death. She built that branch of the Wayne Foundation to focus on matters that were important to her: charity programs, education and research grants, the arts, historic preservation, and community development. The company moved to the high-rise office tower it's now located in at the beginning of the 2000s when it outgrew its previous office space. Through the Martha Wayne Foundation, we've been responsible for the restoration of numerous historical sites around Gotham, financed an arts gallery and sponsored at-risk youths to go to university, among many other things.

Managing the Wayne Foundation, and all its branches, has been a lot of work. I don't know how Bruce was always on top of everything, but I'll do my best to continue the work he and his mother started. - D. G.

#gotham knights #Locations (GK) #Historic Gotham (GK)

[simlicious]

Status update

All your messages of support mean so much to me, thank you! I definitely feel better, I cleaned out my dash a bit and am a bit more relaxed. I see more clearly now that I still have an important role to play and a place in this community! 🥰

I am still not quite ready to go back into creating Sims stuff though, as Anno 1800 has sucked me in a bit at the moment. That game is a serious commitment time-wise, and I am also making my own mods and tweaking the mods of others to create the perfect experience for me personally. In case you are interested to learn more about my Anno experience, you can read more under the cut!

I play a multiplayer map with my boyfriend, or let's say I show him what I have built and he dabbles for a couple of hours too every now and then 😆 I enjoy the optimization/logic aspect of the game. At the moment, I really like games that pick my brain/give me a challenge in that regard, and I think that is also why I like modding. It requires abstract/logical thinking and creativity at the same time. Anno 1800 is a city builder/production strategy game and is mainly about fostering a happy population in a flourishing city. There are different population tiers, such as farmes, workers, artisans, etc. that have different needs that you need to fulfill in order to get to the next one, and they also want luxury goods that improve their happiness. You have to produce these goods and build farms, factories, and public buildings to provide the population with these items. You start out with a small settlement and end up with a huge metropolis. I am about 100 hours into the save and have never advanced this far in Anno 1800 before. Things get more complex the further you go, and you have to establish settlements in different regions and create trading routes to ship goods around to make sure all production lines run flawlessly and your population receives the goods they need.

I also enjoy beauty-building (to some degree at least) and try to make my cities look interesting instead of just boringly uniform. Because I play with a lot of mods, this is easier to accomplish than in a vanilla game, where beauty building and maintaining a good economy at the same time is more challenging. I play Anno 1800 to relax and have fun, not to try to reach record numbers of inhabitants (which is impressive in its own right, but I'm more the casual play type).

Here are a few screenshots of my City Bergblick (Mountain View). These are best viewed at full scale because you can't really see details on the small tumblr dashboard-sized pics.

My farmers are having a festival because they feel so happy!

The artisan village

Amusement park that I built near my skyscrapers and scholar's houses.

View from the harbor. This is the hugest island in the game! In case you are wondering, the reason why do not make (tuning) mods for Sims 3 is that I lack the gameplay experience/knowledge of intricate game mechanics. Only while playing do you notice things that you wish were different, and you get an idea of how they could be. I am a bit out of the loop with Sims 3 gameplay, I'm a bit ashamed to say it has been years since I properly played the game, aside from set building, styling my Sim models, and testing CC. In most games I play, I spend more time modding them/installing/tweaking other people's mods/making my own than actually playing. I am truly a tinkerer at heart! I hope I can bring myself to start learning Python one day (and C# would also be good to know as a modder), as I mainly tweak XML files for now, but many games require proper coding knowledge in order to mod them. I tried a few times to learn but I have a hard time understanding some concepts. I feel like it's just a different mode of thinking and to get into that mode and see how everything fits together is the hardest part. I kinda hope I can get my brain ready for it by doing more logical thinking/tinkering with mods! Other games that I am interested in/would love to be able to do more with mod-wise are Subnautica and The Long Dark. Subnautica is probably my all-time favorite game. It is beautiful, and makes you want to explore and find out about that alien planet, but also creates that feeling of terror of the unknown. It touches on emotions in a way that I never experienced in another game. That said, the Sims games are still the best option for expressing creativity! I am also keeping an eye out for Life by You, the modding possibilities seem very enticing. I'm not sure about the graphical style, but I bet they will polish the game a lot before the final release. Also, Custom Content makes such a huge difference, so I'm not too worried about that at this point.

#mods and gaming #this and that #Anno 1800 #personal #nonsims kinda

[miloscat]

[Review] Virtual Boy Wario Land (VB)

Wario Land 1.5... in 3D!!!

I wrote about Wario Land 1 being a one-off, but when I started this next instalment I saw I was wrong. This one gets overlooked because of its niche release on the unsuccessful Virtual Boy and unnumbered status in the series (the title is clunky, but its original title—Wario Cruise—was even more unfitting), but it is in fact an interesting companion game to the original, and an important step in the progression of Wario and his series developing their character, maybe more so than WL1 even.

In VBWL, Wario completes his transformation from goofy-faced villain to treasure-hunting tough-guy anti-cool anti-hero. The timer and life counter are still here, but play control is much smoother, the exploration is more satisfying with destructible terrain and better-hidden secrets, and the powerup system has been tweaked with a new super-hat that combines the functions of all three: fire breath, flight, and butt-slamming. A new run button lets you zip around on land and underwater, so you barely miss the shoulder charge and its now momentum-carrying charge jump when you're small or have fire breath.

It's not just the mechanics that have seen changes. As this same team did with Metroid 2, they've experimented with the game structure... to mixed results. The stage count is only 10 (plus 4 bosses), but each one has branching paths and backtracking, as well as the 3D-enabled foreground/background switching. There's no world map, just a lift between levels, as you start the game dumped into an underground cavern and are making your way back to the surface. You can revisit stages but only in real space by taking the lift down to the immediate previous stage and traversing back from the exit (this is where the timer really doesn't make sense). The setup gives you a driving force—to escape the subterrane—but when you start going through jungles, haunted houses, factories, etc. then it strains credulity.

With only a two-hour runtime, the game expects you to replay it all the way through to better your time and find more treasures, to change your ending (again, like Metroid). Not in one sitting though, or the Virtual Boy's eye-searing cheap red screens could do you some real damage. There's even a harder New Game Plus which apparently adds more spikes and makes the enemies more aggressive. I thought it was hard enough already and cheesed a lot with rewinds and savestates; Wario can still bully enemies and interact with them when you learn where they are and aren't protected, then pick them up and chuck them, but it's all too easy to take damage and lose your powerful-feeling abilities (which are needed for finding secrets).

I did emulate, not having access to the rare VB hardware. Unfortunately homebrew emulation on 3DS has very poor performance, and doesn't support the system's stereoscopic capabilities. Mednafen supports anaglyph 3D with various coloured glasses, if available, but I opted for a straight 2D rendering with a classy white-on-black look rather than the harsh native red-on-black. Interactions between the foreground and background are disappointingly scarce, but at certain times—stage 13 in particular—the busyness of the overlapping layers made gameplay very hard to parse. Otherwise it's perfectly playable, and a quite accessible option for experiencing this—dare I say—hidden gem.

#wario #wario land #virtual boy wario land #review #nintendo r&d1 #vb