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#for that thumbnail. if that's a thing that bugs you
alatariel-galadriel · 2 months
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99% of my brain function at any given moment is devoted to this song
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teknikolor-walters · 3 months
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Is this darn milgram au really the thing that's gonna convince me t learn how to draw digitally properly
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itiswormtimebaby · 10 months
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Fifth Date
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Bucky and Bug’s fifth date takes an unexpected turn (alternatively: Bucky isn’t sure he’s good at dating but knows he’s good at sex so he tries to play to his strengths).
Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Bug (+ Brother’s best friend Bucky, plus sized reader) CW: Thigh riding, risk of getting caught, dirty talk, hints of praise kink, past toxic relationships, mild angst, Bucky and Bug bond over their love of food (he’s not a feeder but he does keep you fed)
Bucky absentmindedly digs his thumbnail into the worn wood of the picnic table, working at a knot in its surface as he tries his best to gauge whether or not he’s upset you. At face value you seem fine, excited even, as you’d managed to snag a lavender oat milk ice-cream; that’s what held your attention now, well, the dripping cone and the excess amount of dogs being led around the food-truck-lined garden. But despite your oohing and ahhing over the creamy treat and the furry friends he couldn’t help the niggle of worry in his stomach. Fucking flowers. He forgot the fucking flowers. Every other date he’d shown up right on time, if not a little early, with fresh flowers. Today his shift at the garage had run long and he’d hardly had time to scrub his hands clean and comb his hair, let alone get flowers, before rushing to pick you up, barely on time and empty-fucking-handed. Given the time between this date and the last surely the others were already shriveled up, he was supposed to be showing you how good a boyfriend he would be and he couldn’t even- 
“-ucky? Buck?” 
He was wrangled from his thoughts by the soft call of his name and a sudden jolt of pain as his thumb caught on a sliver of wood. There was now a furrow in your brow, lips down turned as you observed him; damnit, if the flowers hadn’t messed things up this inattentiveness surely would. “Are you alright?”
Idly reaching for your fingers not wrapped around the ice cream cone he nodded his head, “Course I am. How’s that?” Instead of answering you held the treat out for him but he shook his head, “Nah, Bug, I’d rather taste it on your lips.” And despite the small burn of embarrassment it caused, you leaned across the table, indulging him as he licked into your mouth, sticky and sweet. Bucky was relieved that you seemed happier after the kiss, he was good at that, if nothing else he could keep you physically sated. There was a time he was confident in his abilities to be good at the other stuff as well, at least he thought he was, but his last serious partner made it clear that while he was a great fuck he was a shitty boyfriend, a “sorry ass loser” to be exact, it’s what he feared you would eventually see. 
“Alright Buckaroo, you are way too in your head right now, let’s go!” Bucky went to protest before realizing you weren’t calling for an early end to the date, instead you were tugging him towards the food trucks you hadn’t yet explored. “We are dividing and conquering, I’ll grab the samosas, you’ve got the vegan corn dog truck, and we’ll rally back by the loaded waffle fries. Got it?” You didn’t bother waiting for a response as you took off, forcing him to chase after you to press cash into your palm, waving off any protests as he pinned you with a stern stare; “It’s a date, Bug, I pay. Got it?” He echoed your words back to you, but unlike you he was waiting for a response, the arch of his brow leaving no room for protest; “Got it.” 
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You were pleased to see Bucky relax into the date, despite his earlier assurance that nothing was bothering him you knew better, as if you couldn’t read his moods after thirteen-some-odd-years, no, he wasn’t fooling you for a second. You were willing to wager it had something to do with work, judging by his hurried arrival and quick apologies when he picked you up, though there was always the smallest chance it had to do with club business. Despite your brother’s prominent role you tried to steer clear of that, though you would make an exception if talking about it would help Bucky. As it were he seemed considerably cheered up, happily sharing bites of the small feast you’d managed to amass, practically moaning at each new flavor that burst across his tongue (though he made sure to remind you that you were the best thing he ever tasted as he lapped powdered sugar off two of his fingers- conveniently the same two fingers that he had up your skirt on your last date). 
Beyond stuffed you wave away his offer for more, something warm bursting in your chest as he offhandedly remarks something about keeping his lady fed, choosing to ignore the latter part wherein he adds a no edibles disclaimer. Is that what you are, his lady? It certainly seems like it the more dates you go on, though no official titles have been given. In some way or another you’ve felt like his for a long time, it was almost scary to face the reality of what you two could be. 
Bucky could tell you were mulling something over, the tip of your tongue poking through your lips a dead give away, you’d had the same tell since childhood and he knew if he reached over and peeled apart your lips you’d be lightly biting down on the pink organ. He felt the same sharp doubt as earlier re-emerge at how quiet you’d gone, but no, you’d been having a good time he was sure of it, and he could recover from his earlier faux paus. Instead he distracted himself with the image of you, the denim of your shorts riding up between the thick meat of your thighs, nearly disappearing at the apex, the button on them now pressing tighter against the ample swell of your stomach than it had earlier, a happy sign that you’d eaten well, the soft material of your crop top inching dangerously up-up-up at each little shift you made. A man of his whims Bucky reached out, softly tracing the tip of his index finger up a spidering stretch mark, from the waistband of your shorts to wear it disappeared just beyond the hem of your top, he allowed his finger to venture just underneath it, searching, almost positive you didn’t have a bra on, desperate to find out. Desperate to trace that same mark with his tongue. Fuck you were beautiful. The soft hitch of your breath had him abruptly on his feet, gathering up trash with one hand while the other reached for you; “Let’s go for a walk, Bug.” 
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He led you to a secluded area, a seemingly forgotten bench at the end of an overgrown path, surrounded by trees and wild bushes.There was extra security in knowing that the live music had just kicked up at the other end of the park, drawing much of the crowd towards the small stage but still your heart fluttered nervously, somehow knowing Bucky’s intentions were less than pure; he wasn’t just looking for a quiet place to talk. 
Bucky sat first, guiding you to sit astride one of his thighs, back facing him. Whatever small ping of worry surfaced in your brain about being too heavy died before it could fully form, senses overrun by the rough feeling of his black denim jeans on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the cool kiss of his prosthetic hand finding purchase on the naked flesh of your waist. This is the part I’m good at, he thought, the part where I impress her, where I shine. He didn’t say anything, just began rocking his leg back and forth until your back arched, signaling he had found your sweet spot, focusing his attention on staying there. You were desperate not to make noise, biting down on your lip as Bucky’s thigh pressed the thick seam of your shorts up into you, the pressure on your clit causing pleasure to spark hot in your groin. Wrapping the hand not anchored to your waist around your throat he forced you to lean your head back against his shoulder, using the open access to run his tongue across the hyper sensitive skin, suckling, marking, claiming. It went on and on, the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s thigh as he continued his assault on your clit and throat, his own arousal at the situation apparent by the thick swell of his cock pressed into your back. 
Despite your best efforts to keep quiet Bucky could tell you were getting close, stopping just when you appeared to be on the precipice of pleasure; “Fuck, Bug, you want it?” 
Ignoring the question, or perhaps too focused on your pleasure to truly hear it, you pick up where Bucky left off, slowly gliding your denim covered cunt across his thigh. Rocking side to side to catch the seam just right. Close, so close, pleasure taught in your groin, ready to explode outward, ready to- 
Bucky let’s out a long drawn out fuck, worried for a second he’s going to bust in his jeans as your ass backs up into him, practically slamming into his cock as your previously controlled rocking motion loses rhythm and gives way to frantic humping. Bucky slips two of his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue in an effort to quiet you; “That’s it, Baby, use my thigh, fuck yourself on my thigh, good gi-” His praise is lost in the wake of your pleasure, thighs clamping impossibly tight against his own as frantic motion mellows to soft subconscious rocking. You suckle at the salty skin of his fingers, the intensity of your orgasm leaving you soft and pliable in his lap, sleepy even.
Bucky manages not to lose it in his pants, but just barely, nuzzling at the crown of your head he feels pride- yeah, he’s good at this, he can keep you around with this.
AN: For more Bucky and Bug visit THE WORM HOLE
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missmonsters2 · 8 months
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Mirror, Mirror | Five
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Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.
PART FOUR
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Summary: Deleting the video evidence of Wanda's embarrassing confession only goes slightly awry, and in the end, she can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed with herself. Perhaps she can get advice from someone who was once in her position.
Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.
*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*
Note: There's still an epilogue after this!! But after that, it's done </3
Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘
Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3
Count: ~4,6k
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Wanda jiggles her key through the door with a renewed rush. Her hands are shaky, and she should really just take her time. This wasn't making it go any faster.
Darcy had just dropped her off after they ate their McDonald's meal in the parking lot and was on her way back to get access to her laptop to help Wanda. 
Finally unlocking the door, Wanda took her shoes off haphazardly and took off towards your room. Your laptop sits innocently at your desk, unaware of all the havoc Wanda will reap upon it if it doesn't give her access to your email. 
She pulls out the chair and sits down before she opens it up. The first thing that greets her is the password page. Wanda pulls out the USB that Darcy gave her and plugs it in. All she can do now is wait since Darcy said she'd text Wanda once she made it home. 
The next 15 minutes feel like a bottomless pit of hell. Wanda checks her watch every couple of minutes, tapping her foot impatiently. 
"Come on, come on, come on," Wanda huffs quietly. She's extremely paranoid about what you might be doing. It's unlikely you'd be returning home tonight, and even if you were, it'd be a couple of hours from now.
Yet, the unhinged part of Wanda wants to pull out her phone and text you, "Hey, what's up? You're still busy sexing up Raye, right? Definitely not ideal, but you're not checking your emails or on your way home, right?
Wanda wishes she made Natasha go stakeout Raye's house to alert her when you were leaving the place. Before she can think more insane thoughts, her phone vibrates in her hand, and Wanda checks it with speed. It was from Darcy confirming she'd made it home and it'd be any minute now. 
Wanda looks up at your laptop screen, pushing her finger against the mousepad to ensure the screen doesn't time out. The USB must give Darcy some kind of access because, true to her word, something does start happening. 
Wanda watches the screen with mild interest as a separate window pops up. The background is black, but it's clearly some kind of coding as random words begin running. It takes a few minutes, but then asterisks fill your password box. It only takes 3 times before the right password is entered and Wanda's gained access.
"Yes!" She celebrates before she sends Darcy a quick text. 
Wanda pulls up your email and finds the latest one sent to you is a link to a Google Drive. There are many videos and some photos, but Wanda recognizes herself in one of the thumbnails and clicks on it.
"I don't see what's so great about Raye—"
Wanda immediately stops playing it, unable to bear the embarrassment of hearing herself. She quickly deletes the clip, also going to the trash bin to make sure it's permanently deleted. Wanda checks everything several times to ensure there are no other clips and any trace of her confession is gone. 
Mission completed. 
Relief floods her system, knowing that the clip has been deleted. 
Wanda closed everything she opened, making sure she changed the status of the email to unread. Once everything is as it was, Wanda closes your laptop and unplugs the USB.  
Stuffing the USB into her pocket, she's about to send another text to Darcy when Wanda hears the front door open, and you call out her name. You must've seen her shoes at the door, but Wanda still doesn't answer. She hears you walking back down the hallway toward your room and panics. 
Oh, god, she couldn't walk back out that door without bumping into you, and she couldn't jump out the window either with them living on the 10th floor. 
Oh, fuck, what does she do? Wanda's panicking as she shakes her hands in hysteria and looks around frantically. 
Shit, shit, shit, shit!
Wanda carefully makes her way to your closet, but it's filled wall to wall with your clothes, and the floor is filled with your shoes and other boxes. There was no room to hide in there.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
Wanda's walking around your room and has no idea where to hide. She looks at your bed and internally groans. Dropping to her knees, she scoots herself until she's fully underneath, flat on her stomach, but her head is kept off the floor. She quickly opens her phone and turns it from vibration mode to silence—Wanda refuses to be caught. She would rather die than even try and explain all of this.
The door opens, and Wanda only gets a few of your slippers as you make your way back to your desk. She hears a soft clank on the desk, and Wanda can only assume it's the mug of tea you have every night. 
Wanda hears you sigh quietly as you seem to settle in for the night. This is not good. This is fucking terrible. 
Wanda can't tell how long she's been stuck under your bed. She's too worried about moving and accidentally making a noise. All she hears is the soft music playing and your mouse and keyboard clicking. 
Suddenly, her phone lights up with a notification. It's a text from you.
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Wanda bites her lip, trying to decide if she should answer. Ultimately, she decides she should because it's possible you might try to call her if she doesn't, and she definitely can't answer it if you do. Wanda would also feel bad about not answering you if you're worried. 
But, god fucking dammit, she's going to have to lie. Again. 
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Wanda hears a breathy chuckle from you and tries not to smile. 
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Fuck. 
Wanda doesn't know if she should say yes or no. If she says yes, will you wait until she gets home? Wanda can only dread how long she might be stuck under your bed.
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The chair you're sitting scrapes against the floor a little. A reply doesn't come for a few minutes, and Wanda wishes she could see what you were doing. 
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Wanda stares at the text, trying to see if she can decipher your tone from just the words alone. It's something you've told her countless times when she told you she'd be staying at Vision's place. Yet, somehow, this feels different. 
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You stop replying to her after that. It's both a relief that Wanda could stop digging herself into another hole and a torture she's left without much to do again. 
Wanda checks some of her other texts and replies to them, but her battery life is getting exceedingly low, and she doesn't want it to die on her accidentally if you do decide to text her again. 
The last time she opened the phone to check the time, an hour and a half had passed. There's almost a desperation to give herself up and come clean to relinquish herself from the sheer boredom, but Wanda holds strong since she reasons she'd already made it this far. 
"Hmm," Wanda hears you let out a deep hum. The mouse clicks a few times, and Wanda wishes she could see what you were staring at. 
Definitely not her confession video; that much comforts Wanda. 
God, she's bored. She's so bored that the fear has long left her body. 
It's a miracle when Wanda hears you get up and stretch, a few cricks released from your back. You leave the room, and Wanda hears the bathroom door shut. 
Wanda scrambles to get out from under the bed, nearly hitting her head 5 times. She quickly tiptoes out of your room, heading for the front door and opening it. Just as you're coming out of the bathroom, Wanda shuts the door as if she's just gotten in. 
"Wanda, is that you?" You call from the hallway.
"Yep! You're still up?" Wanda calls back, laughing nervously to herself about how stupid this all was, but relief she was clearly getting away with it. 
"Yeah, just thought I'd get a start on the editing stuff for Tony," you say as Wanda walks towards you. 
"Oh, cool," Wanda doesn't inquire further but says, "I thought you were staying at Raye's tonight?"
"Oh, uh," you seem surprised that Wanda asks. "I was having a hard time falling asleep on her bed. The mattress is too soft and gives me the worst cricks."
"Oh," Wanda nods, knowing that your mattress is memory foam but on the firmer side. 
"What about you?" You ask back. "Didn't go home with Darcy?"
"Uh, no," Wanda fumbles slightly. "Uh, it was good, but I, uh, was getting a slight stomachache from the McDonald's so I decided to go home."
You frown. "Do you want some tea? Maybe some Tums?"
"Maybe some ginger and honey tea?"
You nod. "Alright, I'll get some ready for you. Why don't you go take your makeup off and whatnot? We could watch some TV before we sleep."
"Oo," Wanda grins. "I think I saw some things come out on Disney+, let's see what they have!"
The rollercoaster of the night comes to a satisfying end for Wanda. 
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The next three weeks are odd for Wanda. During the first and second weeks, she was so busy with her clients and a whole PR mess that she barely had time to see you. 
She spends more time collaborating with her team about how they will dig one of their clients out of the mess they'd made or if they should just drop the client. She's barely been able to think about her feelings for you and what to do about it. 
By the time the third week arrives, everything at work finally slows down, and she has time to herself like a regular person again. Wanda reflects back on her position and the entire video-deleting debacle. 
With the fear and adrenaline long gone, Wanda can't actually tell if she's disappointed that you haven't discovered her feelings. Would things have just been easier if you had watched the video?
At the very least, it might be better in the sense Wanda wouldn't be stuck in the same place. 
Wanda's sitting on the couch, lazily trying to focus on her book but can't with her mind continuously drifting. You haven't been home as of late—Wanda only realized you've been out a lot for a week and a half now. 
Sighing, Wanda closes her book. She was getting bored again. You wouldn't be home until later, and she already spent an hour on the phone with Natasha earlier. 
Just as Wanda was about to text you to ask if there was any possibility you'd be home earlier, the front doorknob jiggled, signaling someone was putting in their key.
Wanda smiles, hoping she'll see you walk through the door, but smiles even wider when she sees who walks through it. 
Getting up from the couch, Wanda runs and jumps, latching onto the person. 
"Oof," the voice was gruff.
"Bucky!" Wanda yells excitedly as Bucky catches her, wrapping his arm around her to ensure she doesn't fall, even though her legs are around him. 
"Hi, nutball," Bucky says, but his mouth is muffled by Wanda's shoulder and some of her hair. 
Wanda slowly slides back down onto the floor, taking a good look at Bucky. Of all the people she adores besides you, Bucky is at the top of her list, along with Natasha, which is why they both have key fobs to the apartment. 
Bucky kind of reminds her of Pietro in certain ways, if Pietro would ever grow up and get a little serious. Bucky seems to know that and has cared for Wanda in Pietro's stead now that the guy has left for Europe since they turned 18. 
"When did you get back?" Wanda asks. "Why didn't you call? I would've arranged to pick you up from the airport."
"It's fine. Steve picked me up from the airport and we relaxed a little bit before he had to leave to the station to do some kind of sketch for a case," Bucky says as he takes off his shoes.
They wander back into the living room space and take a seat. Bucky had brought her some coffee and pastries that Wanda delighted over.
"So," Wanda says after a sip of her coffee. "How was California?"
"Hot," Bucky smiles. 
"You said you were going to train an upcoming actor in a movie, right?"
Bucky nods, sipping his own coffee. "Yeah, some new superhero movie. Pretty young; I think he just turned 18. Definitely now super ripped for an 18 year old," Bucky laughs.
"Does he need a PR agent?" Wanda grins. 
Bucky rolls his eyes with mirth. "Probably not since he has his manager handling everything, but I did pass your card along."
"You're good people."
Bucky snorts, and they spend another half hour catching up before he finally comes to the topic he's been waiting to discuss. "You know, Steve brought up something interesting."
"Oh, yeah?" Wanda raises her brow.
"Steve was bringing up how Bug seems to be seeing someone," Bucky says slowly. "And she looks a lot like you...like everyone else Bug has dated."
Wanda lets out a huge groan. "Steve should eat rocks and jump into the ocean."
Bucky laughs, leaning back onto the couch, and smiles. "So? What do you think?" 
"About what?"
Bucky gives her a side-eye, and she groans quietly this time.
"Fine," she grumbles. "It was strange to realize, but like, a good strange. I don't know. I want...I want her to look at me."
Wanda's blushing at the admittance to Bucky. It makes her feel shy, but also good that someone else close to her knows and will be on her side. 
"Have you confessed?"
"Not exactly."
"Ah, so you haven't done shit except probably rope people into your weird schemes that turn out poorly."
Wanda's jaw drops. "I have not—okay, well, I mean, I wouldn't say they turned out poorly." She would never tell Bucky about the videotaping incident. She was taking that to her grave. 
Bucky eyes Wanda, taking in the small expressions on her face and the muted longing in her eyes as she picks at her nails. "You're so much like me, sometimes I'm convinced that you're actually my little sister," Bucky grins, and Wanda mirrors him. "Don't tell Pietro that, though. He's gets so jealous."
Wanda just gives him an, 'obviously,' look.
"When I started realizing my feelings for Steve, I didn't say anything for a long, long time, and I've known I've liked Steve since we were boys making mudpies," Bucky leans his head back against the couch, the coffee resting between his hands on his stomach. "I kept thinking about what if Steve didn't feel the same? And then there was the whole Peggy situation, and I didn't want to break that up."
"You're better than me," Wanda sighs. "I would break them up in a heartbeat if I knew how she felt about me."
Bucky can't hold his laugh in for that but continues on. "I think a lot of those fears I had paralyzed me. I kept thinking I'd have more time and there was a right moment, or if I did certain things, Steve would feel the same. I just had to wait it out."
"So, what happened?"
Bucky gave her a wan smile. "Steve and Peggy, even though they'd be on and off, were getting more serious. One night, Steve told me he was thinking about proposing."
"What?" Wanda's jaw drops. She's never heard of this. "But obviously he didn't because you guys are together now."
"Yeah," Bucky laughs, "because I totally freaked out. I started saying he couldn't and then kissed him, and then started crying. It was a mess."
"Oh, god," Wanda rests her hand against her mouth. She could totally see herself doing that to you if you said the same thing. Now, she's starting to freak out if you're getting serious with Raye. 
"I think you know what I'm getting at," Bucky says, turning his head to look over at Wanda, and she feels vaguely uncomfortable. "You need to say something—now. There's no perfect timing. There's nothing extra you can do to magically know, and you're not gonna always have more time."
Wanda lets her head fall back against the couch, closing her eyes. They start to sting with tears, and she feels that same fear creep into her belly. Yet, Bucky's words resonate with her, and she suppresses that fear until it settles into a muted nervousness. 
"Fuck, I swear you and Steve planned this."
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Despite Wanda's talk with Bucky, she says absolutely nothing to you when you arrive home late in the evening. Wanda's eyes are glued to the TV, watching How I Met Your Mother absently. 
You seemed to have a long day yourself as you carefully sat next to her on the couch. 
The air feels weird, and there's a tension in your shoulders. It starts to make Wanda tense until you suddenly relax with a deep breath. You shuffle in your seat before scooting until you're pressed against Wanda's side, resting your head against her shoulder. 
The smell of clean laundry and leaves fills Wanda's nose, and she relaxes against you. 
"Wanna order in?" You say.
"Yeah," Wanda replies, pulling out her phone to see what she was in the mood for. The two of you quickly place an order and continue to sit in silence, watching the TV.
You seem deep in thought, but you grab Wanda's hand at some point, holding it with keen interest.
Wanda doesn't say anything. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears are warm as you stroke the back of her hand with your thumb. Her heart doesn't speed up, but it begins to thud noticeably harder in her chest. 
It continues like that until the food arrives, and it's also eaten in silence with the background noise of the TV. Yet, whenever Wanda looks up, she finds you staring at her, and you don't break eye contact. 
It's strange, and it's making Wanda feel somewhat nauseous. 
When the food is done and put away, the two of you settle back onto the couch, but Wanda doesn't think she can handle the silence anymore. 
"How was your day?"
You turn your head, staring at Wanda, and reply softly. "Okay...how was yours? Bucky told me he stopped by to see you."
Wanda tenses. "Yeah," she mumbles. "It was good seeing him again."
"It's nice that he's home," you nod. "I'm sure Steve is happy."
Steve doesn't deserve to be happy, Wanda pettily thinks. It was his fault that Wanda felt so nervous that she felt like she would puke. 
Wanda needs to say something.
She knows she needs to say something now like Bucky told her to. 
All those same fears and anxiety creep up, but frustration has also lingered in her since the day she realized her feelings for you. 
Wanda's tired, she realizes. She's also sick of saying nothing and watching you be with someone else. She's scared but would rather say something and be put out of her misery than continue saying nothing. 
Just as Wanda is about to say something else, you say something first. 
"I broke up with Raye."
Just like that, the wind is blown out of her sails, and Wanda's brain stalls. "What?"
"I," you clear your throat, "broke up with Raye."
"When?"
"A week and a half ago."
"And you're just telling me now?"
Your brow scrunches, and you turn in your seat to fully face Wanda as you cross your legs on the couch. You're fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. "Yes...I needed to think."
"Think about what?"
You wet your lips. "If...if it was worth it potentially ruining our friendship for something more."
Wanda's heart drops like an amusement park ride. Her stomach feels the same way it does when an airplane is ascending. 
She had all these things she was going to say to you just a minute ago, and now her head was empty, and all she could think about was what you were trying to say.
"I think it is...if you feel the same, which I know you do unless something's changed in the last three weeks."
"How do you know?" Wanda frowns. Then again, she wasn't trying to be sly about it the last few months. Maybe you've finally caught on. 
Wait, Wanda pauses. Three weeks? That was when—
You pull out an SD card from your pocket. Wanda's around you enough to know what that is, and her stomach sinks. 
"You know," you give her a small smile. "I was trying to edit the video together for Tony the night after the party, but as I was going through the footage, a third of the photos or videos were corrupted."
Wanda thinks back to the USB she returned to Darcy. Dammit, Darcy! That lying, sneaking, betraying—
"I didn't think much of it, but I had to meet up with the videographer to get the original files. You'd never guess what was on there," you smile wryly. "Or maybe you do since you've somehow deleted it from my Google Drive...and corrupted the other files, so I'd have to get the originals. Very conflicting motives I was getting."
"I didn't mean to corrupt the other files," Wanda mumbles. "But you should probably get your laptop professionally cleaned..."
You give her a weird look but chuckle with a shake of your head. "You're super kooky, you know."
"I do know," Wanda rolls her eyes. "I think you know as well."
"I thought I might've seen you on my first date with Raye. That rock that hit that car wouldn't happen to be something you know about, do you?"
"Not at all," Wanda replies quickly. "But if I did, I'm sure the person would want to say she wasn't aiming for the car or your head."
"So, just Raye's head?"
"Once again, not a clue what the intention was as it wasn't me."
You laugh, and Wanda joins in until it fades, and you bite your bottom lip. "I don't know how any of this works, Wanda. I've never dated anyone I consider my best friend."
"I would hope not," Wanda raises her brow at you. "That means someone else was your best friend and you've committed the ultimate betrayal."
You roll your eyes with a mirth and a smile. 
"I haven't either," Wanda says softly, slowly turning fully toward you, grabbing your hand, and lacing your fingers together. "But I want to. And no matter what happens, we're gonna be okay. I don't think I'll ever love anyone the way I love you. I think I've loved you for a really, really long time."
"Me too," you mumble, squeezing Wanda's hand, feeling shy. "I don't think I ever really thought about it. I just love you. You're my best friend and I love you."
"Now I'm your girlfriend," Wanda grins, leaning closer and closing her eyes.
"Whoa, okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves now. What if we're not even sexually compatible?" 
Wanda pulls back and looks at your face, shocked. It's stony and serious until your lip twitches and Wanda smacks you.
"Ugh, you're such a brat!"
"No, that's you. I'm stinky."
"Stinky."
"Brat."
"Bug."
"Witch."
"Oh, we're bringing back middle school nicknames, are we?" Wanda narrows her eyes at you. You're about to say something else, but Wanda's had enough.
Didn't she think something earlier about being sick of saying nothing? What was she thinking? Saying nothing sounds ideal.
Wanda launches herself across the seat into you, hearing you grunt as she topples you over onto the couch and presses her lips against yours. 
It's not a dream this time, Wanda's very sure. 
This was much, much better than any dream could give her. It feels better. 
Your lips are soft, and you taste faintly like the cookie you split with her earlier. 
Oh god, oh god, oh god, Wanda's mind is racing. She's finally kissing you.
Oh my god, she was kissing you!
You were kissing her back!
Wanda kisses you, pressing her lips over yours over and over as your fingers trail over the outside of her thighs and stroke up to her back. You're bolder than her as your fingers dip under her shirt, pressing her against bare skin. 
It's thrilling; Wanda almost can't lie still on top of you. Goosebumps are forming, and it's forming everywhere. 
You break the kiss, lips caressing her jaw, and scatter light kisses as they trail down her throat. 
Your hand moves higher up Wanda's back and pauses. 
"No bra?" You raise an eyebrow at her. 
"I didn't leave the house today," Wanda mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. 
You hum. "No complaints here," you resume your caresses of her bare skin but pause again. "Wanna move to the bedroom?"
No, Wanda thinks. She doesn't want to detach herself from this position. She doesn't want your touch or your kisses to stop. 
You can tell that Wanda's debating the pros and cons, and you try to persuade her. "A bed will give us more room to do things...and I want to do a lot of things..." You nibble on her collarbone. 
Wanda lets out a soft moan, and her toes curl. 
"Okay, fine," Wanda acquiesces, getting up and pulling you along with her. "Move quickly, though. No dallying."
"Dallying? I would never," you smile as Wanda pulls you down the hall. "I'll mirror you perfectly."
"I think you always have," Wanda says softly, turning to look at you. "That's why it's taken us so long to get here. We're stupid."
You laugh. "Seems like one of us deviated from our mirror, mirror dance."
The two of you enter Wanda's bedroom, and she falls back onto it, pulling you on top of her. 
Your body heat spreads across hers, and Wanda thinks she's dizzy again. 
"Good," Wanda mumbles, cupping your face, her thumb stroking your cheek. "I'm tired of us being chickens."
You press a kiss to her, smiling against her lips. One arm wraps around Wanda while the other trails under the front of Wanda's shirt. 
"Speak for yourself," your fingers trail higher and higher. "Maybe I'm just stupid." You press another kiss, lingering a moment longer, and then pull away. "Chicken."
"Stupid," Wanda smiles, her lips grazing yours when she does. 
"Witch."
"Bug."
"Brat."
"Stinky."
"I love you."
"I love you more."
Wanda feels something so peaceful settle over her. The butterflies in her stomach flutter around from your touch, but she's so happy. She thinks she might cry if she thinks about it too much because this was all she ever wanted. 
Wanda focuses on the feel of your hands on her skin instead and how you're making her feel hot. She focuses on the feel of your lips against her skin, the sound of her breaths, and your soft moans. 
There's no way the two of you aren't sexually compatible, but Wanda's eager to find out exactly how compatible they are...over and over. 
As your lips trail lower and more clothes are removed, Wanda idly thinks that maybe Steve doesn't need to eat rocks and jump into the ocean. 
EPILOGUE
824 notes · View notes
brightmyth-fr · 9 months
Note
What are some of your favorite skins you've made?
I thought about the answer to this question for a very long time. I want to tell you a story about a skin that broke the site.
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(I think this has been fixed now, which is the only reason I'm posting about it.)
Up until around March of this year, skin names weren't sanitized. I wasn't aware of this and continued to be unaware of this until the day I asked for my Valentine's pearlcatcher skins (named <3 and </3 respectively) to be renamed. Special characters often break when you submit them through the queue, so you have to go and ask the mods in the skroblems thread to fix apostophes for you so they display properly. I went and asked them to fix my pearlcatcher skin's names for me, since they weren't displaying correctly either. This lead, by accident, to the most interesting way I've gotten the site to break in a while.
My friend noticed first when they got a subscribed notification to my skin shop thread. They realized there were two pages that were completely gone.
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Then they realized that the front page didn't look right either. My catalogue posts had completely vanished. Only to find... when you hovered over the thumbnail of the </3 skin's icon, my posts had hopped into the item description.
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We experimented a little more before realizing this thing was... very, very powerful! You could put the skin into a den tab description, and it would put every single dragon in that tab into the space of the description box. You could break your userpage for ANYBODY on site. Your entire dragon could get swallowed up if you put it into their bio. And because the skin deleted the edit button, you couldn't get it back out.
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Little did I know, the </ part of the skin name - when posted using [skin=skinid] or [item=skin: </3] - would act as an HTML tag anywhere it was posted, and completely mess up how the site displayed! I compiled everything I found and sent it into the bug forums and the contact team box for review. The thread got deleted almost immediately, confirming what I suspected: skin names aren't sanitized, and this could very easily be exploited with malicious intentions or SQL injects.
Luckily, they fixed it pretty quickly! I hope the way the site handles skin names has been updated now too. This sort of thing wouldn't have happened even if I had named the skin </3 or, god forbid, dropTable(); in the first place. I do think it was because I had the mods go in and edit the skin name that allowed the unclosed </ to display in the skin's item icon and then break the site.
So that's the story of one of my favorite skins I've made! <3 and </3 are now LOVE and LOVE(LESS) respectively. The designs themselves didn't sell too well, but for a glorious 16 hours, they contained all the power of little nuclear bombs detonating on various HTML-dependent sitepages.
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lesbopallascat · 11 months
Text
skizzisms list bc i felt like making a list (still adding on regularly so make sure to check og post if youre using this as a reference or something)
boat -> butt
okay? -> mmguh
flak -> static
DNR -> dinner roll
super dupe pooper scoop
get out of here you piece of JUNK!!!!!
[movie/song/tv show reference] whats that from 😏☺️
singing randomly
ooohuhuhu….ooo…
wuoh
nooch!
nooch. snoogins.
hup + bop (note that bop is mostly an impulseism but skizz has picked it up too)
you can bop if you so choose
saying single words/short sentences in a very abrupt way sometimes
jerk!
nicknames! eg: dipple dop, (tango) top, etc
mister doctor professor [name]
yeah babyy!
(high pitched voice effect) kevin bubbles malone refrigerator jimmy madeye dugan mug
messing with his poker chips while he talks
you’re amazing!
hungy dungy wungy chunky monkey
not an -ism but definitely a skizz thing: skompass (skizzleman compass) aka single blocks with torches on them that act like a breadcrumb trail
do/say x with my/your face
alriiight!
come on cletus
that’s what i’m talking about or that’s what i’m talking aboot
that’s for true
ah poopy :(
stop messing around (after messing around himself)
not really as common i think but sometimes he’ll put something in basic terms, and then say some variation of “but let me explain”/“what I mean by that is”/etc. (e.g. “Tango…you are such a perfectionist, but let me expand on this:…” in this stream)
there’s your thumbnail!
do you Need to take a Poopy. (phasmo)
(to the tune of “when the moon hits your eye…”) THAT’s moroiii (phasmo)
prreow. brrow (meowing. kind of.)
CRIT!!!!!!
makinabaaaabyyy
hi. how you doin'.
calling wardens "warden g"
you're amazing!
what's up!!
Ghoulie ghosty come out to play
(mimicking grian using the spirit box) are you heeyah
___ for a tick
you're not watching
im gonna leave that/leave it! (when he holds back on the opportunity to make a dirty joke)
___ is top shelf
combining two sentences into one longer sentence by just removing the pause for a period and continuing in the same cadence
Additions from notes:
random sounds while thinking (ex: lethr lethr lethr lethr)
What’s that gonna do?
great question newman!
in addition to “what’s that from”, Name it!
homie buddeh
“The Skizz”
HUYEAYUH/making faces along with that and other stream sfx
thats the first time in human history anyone has said that
in addition to you can bop if you so choose, singing the actual you can bop if you want to safety dance parody
mmmbye
(fns) you’re legit/are you legit?
(fns) come on knock on our doooor we’ll be waitin’ for youuu (in vc to bug the imposter) (part of the random singing point)
(fns) ope! crewmate again!
(fns) make-sure-to-eat-fruit (doing simon says)
DANGIIIIIT
what im gonnna dooo….
num-a-nums
well i Did/Am.
show me [item] salad!
the face he makes where his eyes go really wide and he tucks his chin in and stares
calling people he finds cool "cats"
referring to his face as his handsome mug
will sometimes not actually make his point yet before adding "you know what i mean?" as if there was a meaning to be had
claims he would never do something to someone that they did to him, despite the fact that he had or would do exactly that
lmk if i missed anything and i can add it Smile emoji
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midnight-moth · 6 months
Note
May I ask for Rain and Dew absolutely smothering Phantom because his anxiety is acting up really bad and the dp helps calm him down
I haven't just written something inside of tumblr without even opening a doc in a long time. Let's give it a go! 1100 ish words of Phantom having a meltdown, Rain and Dew being sweet. And maybe Dew having secret perv thoughts. Also everyone always puts cute or pretty gifs in their writing. Well I feel this one works.
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"Where's Phantom?"
"I don't know, actually. Where is he?" Dew craned his neck from his seat on the edge of a folding chair, his eyes drifted away from the knot he was trying to pick out of his laces to Rain's face, creased with worry.
"I'm sure he's around? I mean, he can't have gone far." Words meant to self-soothe but they weren't doing a particularly good job. Rain's legs were already absentmindedly directing him toward the labyrinth of hallways.
"You wanna go look? I wanna go look." 
Rain gave Dew a small smile, a silent thank you for taking his worries and making them his own. For not making Rain ask him to go searching for Phantom, for not making him feel like he was concerned about nothing.
For not making Rain explain again that he was worried about the new summon; that despite appearances and reassurances, Rain saw the raw skin beside his thumbnails, the bruised circles carved beneath his eyes, the food he pushed around his plate but never into his mouth.
All of them were nervous, Papa was nervous. It was their first ritual together, at least with this iteration of the band. One without the steadying presence of Aether, the calming comportment of Sunny.
Dew abandoned the knot in his laces and followed Rain out of the greenroom, leaving the various satellite groups of crew and ghoul alike to continue eating, talking, vibrating with excitement about kicking off the tour. 
They weaved in and out of the hallway snaking to the rear of the building, still short one quintessence Ghoul and running out of hiding places.The clack of heeled boots finally revealed his location.
“Hey, what’re you doing back here?” Here being a darkened stairwell that led to the catwalks up above the stage.
Whether Phantom heard Dew’s voice or their approach, they weren’t sure. He didn’t react. He just kept up his pacing, 3 steps forward, 5 steps across, 3 steps back, 5 steps over, around and around and around. 
Dew, watching him move in the small space felt his own head spinning with vertigo eventually and tore his eyes away to look at Rain, who stood frozen, his arm halfway extended, as if he were about to stop Phantom in his tracks. 
“Hey bug, you’re gonna wear holes in your soles. Why don’t you slow down a little?” Phantom’s eyes flit up to Dew’s and then fell back on the toes of his shiny new boots. He did however finally stop moving. 
Neither Dew nor Rain were really sure what to do. Neither had really made progress in getting to know the ghoul. What they saw during practice, a charismatic ghoul who was little bit goofy, but also full of joy, had yet to reveal itself in alternate scenary. 
“Are you nervous? That’s okay. It’s normal. We all were, and we still are.” Rain took small steps toward him as he spoke, he half expected Phantom to arch his back and howl like a scared cat. 
Phantom wanted to answer them, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that if he opened his mouth, all of his insides would come spewing out. Not the contents of his stomach, his lungs, his heart, his spine. He felt like his silence was the only thing keeping his body glued together. Even then he felt the bonds weakening when he looked up at the concerned ghouls in front of him.
“You don’t have to speak. Just - if there’s anything we can do, can you nod?” 
Phantom considered whether he could do as Dew asked, whether communicating with him would cause everything to spiral out of control. Whether it would disturb the peace he’d made with that square meter of concrete in the back of the venue.
He nodded slowly, eyebrows quirking up in surprise that in fact, the ground beneath his feet had not shifted or crumbled. 
“Good. Okay, do you want water?” No.
“Food?” No.
“Do you want anyone other than us?” No
“Do you want to go outside?” No.
Guilt began to tear at the threads of reality Phantom had clung to since finding the quiet space. Rain and Dew watched him wring his hands in consternation, subconsciously mimicking him, Dew twisted his fingers together, feeling like they were failing him.
“Do you want a hug?” Rain’s voice made them both jump a little. 
Phantom nodded his head in affirmation and Rain felt the coil twisting in his chest loosen a little. 
Neither had really touched the ghoul, and once again they approached him as they would a feral cat, all but sticking their hands under his nose for him to sniff. Not that they were afraid he would bite or claw, they were afraid he would run.
Rain reached out first, wrapping his arms around Phantom’s tense shoulders, loose, and hopefully non-threatening. Still he felt the ghoul tense under his touch. 
Dew reached for his arm, a barely there pat to his bicep, and the ghoul visibly cringed.
“We’re sorry, you can change your mind. I don’t know - we can get Swiss, or Cirrus, or Papa.”
“No”, His voice came out as a croak, his throat dry and tight from his panic induced fugue. 
“What can we do?” 
“Just - you can touch me, but harder. I dunno why. When I feel - like this, those light touches make my skin crawl. I’m sorry - s’not your fault. I don’t - I don’t -”
“Ah.” Rain nodded. Dew was the same, whether he was upset, sad, anxious, he hated gentle, soft. He wanted heavy and solid. 
“It’s okay, I’ll be okay.” Phantom mumbled, feet angling to resume the pattern he’d been wearing into the floor.
Instead, Rain grasped him firmly by the wrists and led him to the wall, pulling the ghoul into his lap and into a most crushing hug, reinforced by Dew, wrapping his arms around the other half of his body. 
They both felt him sag and droop a little. 
“Better?”
Phantom gave them a barely-there nod, as best he could manage with the limited range of movement. Even as compressed as he was, he felt like his lungs were finally able to take in a satisfying amount of air.
“Don’t worry, we have lots of time. Hours in fact.”
Phantom nodded against Rain’s shoulder, beginning to doze off. The two tails snaking around his torso and the rumbling purrs of their owners nudged him over the edge.
“Is he asleep?” Dew whispered.
“Yeah. He’s drooling on me. Reminds me of someone.”
“Shut up. - Hey, if he likes this maybe he’ll like that other thing you do.”
“One step at a time.”
As Phantom’s mind swam between the conscious and unconscious world, he wondered what the other thing was. 
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Text
woag character design notes
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[i.d.: a drawn line up of the half life vr ai characters, from left to right, gordon, dr. coomer, tommy, bubby, gman, and benrey. /end i.d.]
yeah i skipped some guys , i dont draw some of them enough to have much unique designs and some of them are a png of a dog
trust me i am just surprised as the rest of yall that i am doing hlvrai art . design notes below (very long, mind your step)
gordon:
wow this guy dont got no head
i didnt want to give gordon a face because of how unexact the person is as the fandom engages with it. is it wayne rtvs? (well as presented to an audience, yes) is it gordon freeman? (well as seen from an in game perspective, yes) is it a whole new guy entirely? (well as
i cut the confusion and took it a whole new direction: guillotine
hlvrai being treated as a very broken game is fun to me as a design perspective, so if you (the audience) are not supposed to see his face, what happens when you see it anyways? missing texture time
there are eyes drawn over because i did not have confidence in my expressions at first and then it grew on me
i think if i were to draw (and i have drawn) an actual person under the mask i would still censor the eyes because that is where the vr headset sits!!
(i do not like putting an actual flesh to gordon though)
though i really like seeing how other people interpret gordon hlvrai it is not . my gordon ? we are talking about the same guy . but this is my gordo . i made this one . this guy my guy . maybe i should draw other gordon designs
i can draw the hev suit from memory and it is also the entire reason why i can render metal confidently
i liked how people changed the lambda to read ai :] i also have no clue if i wrote the lambda correctly
(i did, i just checked)
dr coomer:
as much as i draw/drew him i find it more fun to not stick to one set design :)
so a lot of my takes on dr coomer tend to jump from idea to idea, especially from what other people are doing, though they could be fitted to the left and right designs!
the left design is mainly based off what i saw in fandom spaces
we see rounder shapes, making for a more friendly and welcoming appearance
i think of this as straying from the more professional uniform of the actual scientist models
enter swimming shorts and bright yellow socks, for some reason
so now he kind of looks like a cool science teacher :)
it might be the lab coat
the right design is mainly based off thumbnails for hlvrai itself
these use a more angular appearance
i want to push how comically buff he is because of strength he shows at times, especially since his left design seems to completely down play it as a comically not buff man who is still very strong
the shadows on right design coomer get so much more harsh and exaggerated because i have comic books on the mind :)
he really does look like a dehydrated comic book character huh
tommy:
stick bug (he gets it from his dad) (this thought process is explained at gman section)
i pushed a lot of the saturation of colours in her design because i think tommy gets to be a little silly with it
fun art story of the day! when you color, try messing with hue! you might notice you can get away with a lot as long as your values are about right
i like pushing this with white because you can get away with a lot of things reading as “off white”
old faithful for me is cool shadows with a warm transition colour to keep things visually interesting
i keep making white objects the trans flag
happy pride
tommys design looks a little like a school boy, with the tucked in button up shirt+suspenders+shorts+jacket tied around the waist . and the primary colours . but like it is really fun to dress up so brightly
i actually was strongly inspired by medieval babies if that is a weird descriptor? i wanted him to both be a middle aged man but also a young adult
do not be like tommy, who has their finger on the trigger of the gun while not even looking at where it is pointing and good god he is squeezing the trigger . top ten firearm safety of all time
bubby:
the absurd part is that i think bubby is tall . he is just between tommy and gman who are exaggeratedly lanky .
i wanted to make bubby a pointy kinda guy, so he is the only one actually wearing the lab coat proper . and the only one actually wearing dress socks but not even wearing dress shoes
i wanted to give him a novelty tie but i was running low on ideas and running high on boreds so we dont get a tie
he does have crocs though!! in attack mode!!
i do think we all kind of saw his model and collectively decided it works for him because i have honestly not seen major divergences from his model?
gman:
stick bug
i wanted to stress the more spooky and unknowable nature of him and took it in the dark souls direction of “make bigger than player character”
maked too bigger
he cannot walk through any doorways but you will have to crane your neck to look up at him
in the opposite direction of tommy, i pulled a lot of the saturation in gmans design
it feels important to make them both not fully match the rest of the slightly less broken npcs because there was so much work to make them look cool so i have to respect that
actually a lot of gmans and tommys designs are made in opposite to one another
gman has a largely stationary face and very stiff line work
while tommy is pushed to expressive as possible
thats pretty fun, way to go me
benrey:
benrey also has two designs
and in both of these i keep getting too lazy to use a reference so  the vests are super plain (forgetting the badge and black mesa logo) . i think the helmet is supposed to be darker actually .
the design ethos of benrey was “built like a brick shithouse”
a friend of mine took this cooler and interpreted it as a shield/wall/barrier as a physical (and narrative) obstacle
again the first uses fandom designs
most notably the overcast shadow (seen in video thumbnails but i never noticed it or understood why so many people did it until someone pointed it out to me)
i think hlvrai is such a great medium because it acknowledges it is a game and is able to play into that to great effect! i think the shadow is fun to imagine as solid black as a small reminder of the impossibility of the space :]
benrey is a smug cat in the body of a human . to be honest . and this is the full range of emotion i have ever drawn him with
the second was mostly because as fun as taking creative liberties are, i just really wanted to see benrey as is: the half life security guard model in all its slight wonk :]
i actually do prefer this design . it is a little more uncanny because i choose the worst translations of the model . i like it because it is a little more uncanny !
that can be said for like . every single design in this line up huh .
402 notes · View notes
cityof2morrow · 8 months
Text
Bonne-Fortune Grocery Set
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Published: 9-26-2023 | Updated: 9-28-2023 SUMMARY “The Bonne-Fortune series is the latest hit from Freezer Time Industries, receiving top honors at both FridgeCon and the ShinyThings, Inc. Expo. Give your store some retro-futuristic flair and bring all the customers to the yard!” This is a set of 13 moderately priced objects for grocery stores and other retail spaces. Shelves are designed to help you maximize space in/around displays, including a shelf (endtable OMSP) which holds objects at an angle. The set is intended to be modular but not too complicated – some assembly required (see below). Fridges function like shelves – so they won’t keep spoilable food from going bad. They have space for sale items and additional shelving but need to be shifted upward once. Several maxis-themed recolors and an invisible recolor (in case you need it for the carousel display) are included. Additional recolors are available on this site under the #ts2recolors and #co2recolors tags.
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DETAILS Requires All Eps/SPs. §100-500 | Buy > Surfaces > Shelves Buy > Deco > Sculptures Buy > Lighting > Standing/Floor Lamps Everything is repo’d to one of the following objects: Carousel Display End, and Fridge 001– these items are REQUIRED for textures, etc. to display correctly in-game. The Bonne-Fortune Carousel Lite uses whatever recolors you have for the EverGlow Plutonium Rod (Nighlife EP), including THESE. **Since the invisible recolor was made first, the game may reference it when regenerating thumbnails. This doesn’t impact the look/use of objects in-game at all. ITEMS
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3 Fridges Bonne-Fortune Refrigerator 001 (1328 poly), Bonne-Fortune Refrigerator 002 (1323 poly), Bonne-Fortune Refrigerator 003 (~1400 poly)
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Modular Shelving & Deco Bonne-Fortune Shelf 001 (572 poly), Bonne-Fortune Shelf 002 (534 poly), Bonne-Fortune Shelf 003 (572 poly), Bonne-Fortune Carousel Lite (pictured with a default neon recolor; 1048 poly), Bonne-Fortune Carousel End Shelf (572 poly), Bonne-Fortune Carousel Center Shelf (580 poly), Bonne-Fortune Area Signs 001-002 (576 poly)
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Carousel Display Bonne-Fortune Carousel Display End (1940 poly), Bonne-Fortune Carousel Display Center (383 poly), Bonne-Fortune Carousel Lite (pictured again with one of my Nightlife Neon Recolors applied)(1048 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) from SFS | from MEGA *A known game bug may disable some OFB shelf slots. Not all players experience this bug in the same way, but if you do – there is a long-standing fix for it. If you cannot access more than 2 slots on shelves, download ONE of these fixes: MORE_Custom-objects-placeable-on-shelves (Numenor, 2006) MORE_Custom-objects-placeable-on-shelves+LOCKEDTILES (Numenor, 2006) Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023) SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED
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1) Place a refrigerator (remember to shift upwards once) or Carousel End/Center pieces (the carousel parts are deco; place end/center parts on the same tile). Use “move objects on/off” and/or “snap to grid true/false” cheats to add the second End piece to the carousel.
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2) Use the same cheats to place shelves but make sure to add your sale items to them first. Adding items first makes things easier because if you try to put objects above a shelf with empty slots, the game may think you’re trying to put it on that shelf (including other shelves).
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3) For the Carousel End Shelf (use it with the curvy part of the Carousel End), place an item on the shelf,  and shift it in place until the item looks like it is sitting on the carousel.
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4) Take advantage of the invisible recolors OR use the OMSP Controller (select SilentLucidity OMSPs) to make this shelf invisible/visible as needed. Do NOT use the invisible recolor if you’d rather use the OMSP controller.
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5) You may need the Tile Blocker to keep sims from walking through parts of the display (i.e. the carousel). It is included with the meshes and in the collection file. Just be sure that you place it between/behind whatever shelving you add to the carousel – don’t accidently block those shelves.
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6) The Carousel Lite is OPTIONAL deco – place it on the same tile as the Carousel End/Center pieces. It is repo’d to the EverGlow Plutonium Rod (neon light) from the Nightlife EP. As you can see in the pics above, the default recolors emit colored light. Custom recolors will emit a soft glow, but no bold colored light.
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7) Area Signs 001-002 are optional deco as well – place and shift them as needed.
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CREDITS Thanks: ChocolateCitySim and the Kit Kat Crew. Sources: 33 Degree Endtable OMSP (SilentLucidity, 2009), AL Woods (EA/Maxis; HugeLunatic, 2013), Any Color You like (CuriousB, 2010), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Great Groceries Display (Balkopat, 2020), IKEA Lack Woods (EA/Maxis; Michelle, 2016), Kitchen Basic (BuggyBooz 2008), Kitchen Basic Extras (BuggyBooz, 2010), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), Uranium Rod Neon Floor Lamp (PineappleForest, 2022), Wire & Soldier Metals (AlfredAskew, 2013).
159 notes · View notes
Text
Dear John | Unsayable Things
Masters of the Air Fanfiction
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I banged this out in an hour or two, past midnight, deep in my feels, half chatting with my baby @stylespresleyhearted who put in the initial request for this series and who is now owed a few choice lines herein. If you wanna stew in the pain of Friday’s episode- this is the angst fest for you. With a tiny bit of hope at the end. Tiny. But it’s there.
Summary: months after one drunken letter of horny (and gentlemanly) admiration was sent off by one John Egan to Miss Lana Tierney of Hollywood fame, a written rapport has formed between them, based on a refreshing freedom to be perfectly frank and even trivial in their letters -a tone set by his inarguably appaling initial correspondence. But until today, he’s never dared make use of the number she gave him to dial when he needs to say unspeakable things.
Warnings: angsty as hell? morose and possibly suicidal thought processes? it’s Egan after THAT phone call so, I imagine you can envision that it’s not exactly a stable mentality portrayed here-in.
Masterlist
Date: October 1943
The hotel lobby is as chilled as an ice box with those front doors constantly revolving, letting in gusts of autumn air that’s suddenly turned harsher than he recalled when he stepped out into the daylight this morning. His ride back to East Anglia won’t be here for another two hours and no amount of charm or haggling can get him the petrol to make the journey on his own. It’s a carpool sort of life now, every man, woman and child in Britain knows that but every minute he stays in the great metropolis feels like a betrayal to those boys who just got-
-he will get back in time.
He vowed it, he arranged it, now all there’s left to do is wait until it can be enacted. John was never good at waiting but now all the activities and pastimes he’d once relied upon to fill a slow hour seem intolerable. Imbibe any more booz and he’ll be unfit to fly, seeing the sites could get him more sights than he’d like, polite conversation makes him want to scream in the face of the next passer by that he’s lost something precious today -don’t they know? -and it would be just his luck today of all days to get answered by someone who did know, some parent with a dead child, pulverized to bits while he fucked his demons out.
So John keeps his mouth shut in a stern line and stares venomously ahead at the charming little Renoir hung in the lounge. No one has troubled him yet and by the spooked face of the desk clerk who offered him a menu, he dares to think he won’t be in future.
He is sick to death of it all, of the death itself and the brave faces and the lack of bravery he suddenly feels now and the necessity of it all. He hardly recognizes the hollowed out sinner he’s become with a head full of too many griefs to even formulate a prayer.
He was close to catatonic, eyeball deep in his self abhorrence, when he realized he was spinning round the little lacquered card she had enclosed three letters ago.
“If you ever need to say those unsayables, here’s a private line. Don’t call it if you don’t want me to answer, only you, my mama and my hair stylist have it. Xoxo, Jeanie.” 💋
The unsayable would be to call one of the most successful, desirable and busy women in the world only to admit John Egan has run outta words. But with the mounting desire to do something stupidly productive, and without the kind fist of a friend to dissuade him -he knew walking in front of busses wouldn’t get him any closer to Thorpe Abbots- a starlet’s withering rejection just might do the trick. Just might hurt enough to slice through the fog. His fingers were sweating as he spun the rotary, thumbnail tracing the underside of her extension.
God knows it would be unlikely to get through even the first connection, much less get overseas, much less find her at her home. What time of day was it back there anyway? And this entire conversation would get bugged to hell, he’d have to be careful and this was a terrible idea to start with and-
“Hello you,” the airiest voice he’s ever heard warbles over the static, teasing and warm, “I’ll admit it, that lilac did nothing for my color last night. You win, I’ve got the front page of the Whisper to confirm, please, don’t rub it in.”
John stares out of his little alcove in the lounge with watery eyes, mouthing a silent -what the fuck- to himself before recalling the obvious: only her mother, her hairstylist and him. With this line, Jeanie -or should he call her Lana on the phone?- didn’t expect a stranger. This was an anticipated call and he about hangs up in mortification at not being what she expected.
But then, the hollow idea of one and a half hours of waiting for the ride catches up and John recalls that he had in fact phoned in order to be humiliated and he was a rare sort of chump to take so poorly to a plan gone off to so dazzling a start.
“Can’t imagine a shade that wouldn’t suit you.” he finds himself saying smoothly, the flirtation on autopilot.
He can hear an audible gasp on the other end of the line and a breathy sputter and what might be sheets rustling, or perhaps it’s a dress or paper or-
“JOHNNY?” she all but squeals and he winces at the blare of the receiver in his ear, the flinching crinkle of his blue eyes not without some pleased merriment at her unabashed excitement. “This you? Finally you used it, you silly old thing! Oh gosh, oh gosh say something again, your voice is divine! Oh, I can’t believe I’m finally talking to you. I thought you were my mother! Oh say something! You’re there, aren’t you? Johnny?”
She sounds so pleased he finds his eyes smarting and suddenly this feels like the worst idea in the world. He needed her to be harsh, to fit with every other disillusionment that’s rained down on him this past month, instead he’s met with -care. His stomach roils and not even the mean suspicion that she’s putting on an act can make it calm. “Well, I’m finally somewhere I don’t have to share a line with the whole group.”
“Where’s that, Johnny?” She sounds as eager as if he’s got a lot of options.
“London.”
“Oh!” There’s a waiver to her voice, he’s not sure why, but either way she sounds unsure if she should be merry or sober. “Business or pleasure?” she inquires levelly and it’s got all the sultry teasing he’s read into her scrawled writing hundreds of times, John finds himself flushing despite the morose sentiment that comes up right behind it.
“That, well, uh, that uh“ he picks at the sleek paint on the phone base and questions whether he’s going to use precious time on the phone with the hottest dame on planet earth to throw a pity party, “-I think the intention was a rehabilitation for the nerves. Ironically the guy who suggested it is now toast.”
“Oh John.” she sounds wounded and he bites his lip in savage pleasure at hearing what he wishes he could feel. “Was it -was it someone close?”
“A couple hundred, more like.” he sulks, his jaw ticking so hard he might break a molar if he keeps on. “But yeah. Yeah today was-“ he tries to think of the censors and that makes him laugh at the thought of all their previous filthy correspondence making it through but some slip of the tongue about a dead friend could land them in the hot spot, his following laugh is snotty and he could gag at himself for it.
“Johnny, darling man, are you-“ she shifts course and he holds his breath, depending on her for something, he doesn’t even what, “-does this happen to have something to do with our duet’s harshest critic?”
He smiles at her cleverness, she’s not a complete airhead then. And she recalls Buck. Of course she does, she hasn’t stopped sending him kisses via Egan’s letters even though she didn’t recall meeting either, not even when John had sent back photographs of the both of them to jog it. The flow of correspondence hadn't stalled despite this strike out and neither had the morale boosting glamor shots of certain of her assets which John kept locked in the false bottom of his footlocker and one small one folded in in the hollowed heel of his boot.
_“keeping it handy for the emergency tug off?” Gale had scorned him but Egan liked having her with him._
“Yeah, Shirley Temple- he’s been uh, he’s been traded, ya see.” Egan manages the metaphor once more and winces at the truth it hides.
He hears Je-Lana?-Jeanie?- suck in a breath on the other end. “Gosh. John. Any sign of, of-“ she begins to stammer, “of chut-“
-chutes, she’s going to say. John coughs loudly into the reviver and her voice trails off in recognition of his warning. “This was a mistake.” he decides, “I just -you can see why- I just thought I’d like to hear a-a-a voice, a-“
“A friend!” she replies eagerly, “I’m here, I’m here don’t go, not yet, not unless you have to, Major. Are you waiting? You’ll be wanting to get back, no? Or will you be staying on? In London?”
“I’m not staying.”
“Of course.” she whispers, “I’m so terribly, terribly sorry.”
His grip on the receiver has turned white. “No,” he decides, “I’m the one who’s sorry. Bringing this up, never even talked to you before and I go and make it this the call. Pretty girl like you doesn’t need this.”
“I told you to call.” she reminds him gently, “And Johnny, I’m ever so happy to hear your voice, I’ve imagined it a million times rereading your letters and looking at your photographs. I can concede that my imagination failed.”
“You reread them?” he is amused.
“Yes. Don’t you reread mine?”
“Mhmm you bet.”
“Gosh your voice gives me shivers.” she whispers into the phone and he feels an odd rising of the hair on the back of his neck. “Are you having to beat the London women off with a baseball bat?”
“I just let ‘em swarm.” he admits and she makes a noise of intrigue, “I was with a widow last night.” He blurts. “Polish. We watched the bombs from my hotel room.”
“How relaxing.” Without missing a beat Jeanie’s soft tease comes through, “Did the one balance the other for the nerves?”
“I’m dehydrated and hungover.”
“And grieving.” she adds.
That’s an unsayable. “I just needed to talk to someone.” he decides.
“Did she not speak English?”
He’s gone this far, he might as well be honest. “She didn’t know Buck.”
“Mm.” She makes a mournful noise of assent.
“I-I’m tryin’ not to do something stupid Jeanie,” he hates how his voice shakes but to her, it sounds more like rage than fear, “and I thought if I could hear your voice I’d -id get some peace. And wait for my ride without bustin’ up the Carleton.”
“Yes, I forbid you to bust up the Carleton without me, Major.” she warns and his pulse leaps at the simple direction, it’s a joke of course but it lodges heavy and wanted in his chest. “Promise me, Johnny, one day we’ll cause a great scandal there, you and I?”
“Miss Tierney,” he bites at his lip, “it’s a kindness for me not to make promises. To girls -to anybody.” She’s got to know that, she’s just being nice. “Especially not to special little ladies with nice long futures ahead of them.”
“It’s Turner, actually, Miss Turner if you’re going to be so formal.” She corrects, not a single part of her name Hollywood hasn’t meddled with. “But you must know, it’s far too late for that John. I miss you like mad.”
“We haven’t even met.” he reasons.
“What, and you don’t miss me?”
He curses under his breath fondly and shrugs. “I adore you.”
There’s a beat of silence in which he thinks he may have blown it by being so gushing but in fact, Jeanie finds herself milking her throat to dislodge the lump of painful glee settling there.
“Then you do whatever you have to, Bucky Egan,” she commands him, imperious but fervent, “you punch and get punched and drink as much as you need and bed as many girls as it takes and go after Buck-“
“-hold up, how’d you kn-“
“-but you come home. It’s much too late to tell me not to get my hopes up. You’re all I dream about anymore. There’s got to be some future for us, there’s got to be, Johnny, I’m not asking you to promise I’m asking you to try. Do what you’re good at.”
The pause is long and heavy and Bucky thinks he hears her sniffling on the other end. Unmoored by the unprecedented honesty he’s receiving and the juxtaposition of being someone’s risky bet for happiness when just this morning he’d come to resign himself to letting go what could only ever be a passing night's comfort- “Hell of a business.” he finds himself repeating.
“But you’re the best at it.” she retorts, “So stay the best.”
Everything certain, everything he thought was a given got blown to hell with Gale’s plane today. “Used to tell him if everybody else went down it’d be just him and me. I believed that.” He mumbles into the phone, turning to tuck his neck into the device like it’s the soft crook of her neck, “Now to be the best- that’s just me, and charred Europe under me and no one else in sight. That’s what you’re asking? ‘Cause that’s how this ends.”
The sun is shining bright and brutal in California, a cheery morning to mock her cocktail hangover and now she thinks it’s to hurt him as well, everything is so far removed an ocean away. Such bleakness is hard to even fathom for her, but the man she’s come to know, to love even, on paper is hoarsely spilling his guts to her over the phone and she’s not sure what one says to such a prediction. Her agent hovers in the doorway, the angry swats of her hand not sufficient to deter him from fretting with the press conference approaching. “So what, this is a suicide note?” she winces as soon as she says it but honesty has always been their currency.
“No.” he replies at long last and her shoulders sag. “I thought- i just wanted to hear your voice once before I go up again, Jeanie.”
“And I’m glad you called.” she swears, “And now I’ll have a voice to go with all the wicked things you do in my dreams.”
“Oh fu- Jeanie that’s unfair.” He balks and she grins at the little victory.
“Alls fair in love and war, Major.” She reminds, “Now tell me, do you want to tell me about him? Buck-“
“No, fuck no!” he hisses, angry at himself, “I wanted to talk to you to forget. I wanted to hear your voice.” He repeats it like an idiot.
“Then tell me,” she soothes, unphased by his outburst, “what would you like to hear in my voice, Major? The latest score? Perhaps the front page of the Times? They brought it in with my toast. Or some dirty line from one of your letters? I’ve got them here under one of Salinger’s books. They’re safe from the fiancé there, he’s a complete ignoramus with a phobia for learning.”
Bucky chuckles at her unabashed derision for her hotel scion intended and grins at the idea of her sleeping so near to his scrawled professions of lo- obsession at the very least.
Love is another unsayable.
“Just -tell me about your day, sweetheart?“ he begs, hoarse with the need to teleport elsewhere for the remaining forty minutes of his wait.
“If you’re sure.” she sounds only mildly skeptical, “It’s been very loungey, rather frilly.”
“Perfect.” he sighs, closing his eyes.
“Well, it’s actually morning here so I haven’t been up to much,” she begins and he feels guilty for just dialing away, damn the timezones, “I’ve not even dressed.”
“What color are you wearing?” he begs before he even realizes it.
“White.”
Hey sucks his teeth and nods approvingly. “White what?”
“A silk top and- no! Go away Herbert, for the last time!” Some interruption seems to occur on her end as a man’s voice comes through in snatches and Jeanie’s raised one drifts through the hand she’s cupped over the receiver, “Herbert, for the love of God, I am talking to one of the men protecting our country, the reporters can wait!”
Jeanie’s snappy loyalty soothes some raw edge he’s felt since watching *her* leave this morning without more than a kiss. “Reporters, huh?” he sympathizes, fully ready to give her an out.
“You’d think they’d have enough to report, there’s a war on.” she seethes and he has to smile again, “Anway, where were we? Oh, my pajama shorts.”
“White.”
“Yes Johnny, white.”
“Send me a picture?”
“Awfully demanding for a man who hasn’t even promised me he’ll try to live and see them in person.”
John puffs out a laugh at being snared so easily. “Alright, I’ll try.”
“Promise?” Her voice sounds so small.
“I promise.” He’s dazed by the shift, how did he end up being the one begged by Miss Hollywood herself? Perhaps he’s still drunker than he thought.
“It’s all any of us can do, Johnny,” she says, “but we’ve gotta try. You got your pinky up?”
“What?”
“For your oath- pinky swear.”
“You're not even here.” he laughs.
“I’ve got mine crooked, come on Major, meet me halfway.”
And so John Egan finds himself sporting a watery, helpless grin as he lifts his finger into thin air and crooks it around her imaginary little digit. Her sigh sounds as if she can feel it a ocean away. Perhaps he’s gone fully looney in the way he thinks he can, too.
He doubts she’ll appreciate his choices in the next few weeks, maybe even doubt his intention to keep his oath, but what matters is he’s going to try. Even if it’s an angry, furious, blind sort of determination, it keeps him firmly out of the London bus lane until Hobbs and his transport arrive and then it’s goodbye Jean Turner, hello again Thorpe Abbots.
Taglist: (I’m sorry for tagging y’all twice in a single day, oops)
@stylespresleyhearted
@ab4eva
@earth-to-lottie
@suraemoon
@blurredcolour
@steph-speaks
@crazymadpassionatelove
@rubyfruitjungle
@taestrwbrry
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sporesgalaxy · 3 months
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what's uppppp I have some backstory writing for Pierre I've been fiddling with for aaagesss & I mostly like where it's at now. so I show you :)
short life history intro + Devil Fruit aquisition origin + little blurb from on the way to the Grand Line. enjoyyyy
warnings: animal death, bfrb (nail chewing)
•••
Tiny Pierra lets ants crawl all over her. She watches them tear apart a dying grasshopper in the garden, piece by piece.
Pierra looks with wonder in her eyes at a rotting fish covered with maggots. At a dead baby bird that fell from its nest too soon. At a bag full of bloody ducks her father shot.
Pierra gets too upset sometimes, and too frightened frequently. Pierra hides as often as possible.
When Pierra starts getting big, she wishes she was still small. She used to like squeezing into tight spaces; inside a box, under a small desk, under a bed. She doesn't fit anymore. Sometimes she feels like she's stopped fitting anywhere at all.
Pierra sneaks into places she is not supposed to be when she's alone, just to look around. Just to hear the silence.
Pierra takes food she is not supposed to eat, just to get away with it. Just to test how far she can go without being noticed. Just to be unnoticed on purpose.
When Pierra is 16, she goes to the market with her mother. While her mother speaks to someone, Pierra breaks off a tiny piece of the most interesting fruit at the stand. No one notices her do it this time. Pierra chews and swallows the piece of fruit, and it tastes bad, but Pierra is pleased to have learned what it tastes like without permission.
Later that evening, alone in her room, Pierra thinks she is dreaming, or maybe losing her mind. She wonders half-heartedly if the fruit was poisonous and she's dying. Then, she does what she always does when she thinks she is losing her mind: distracts herself and waits for it to pass.
It passes, eventually, but this won't be the last time. She learns that it's not madness, but the curse of a Devil. She learns she can't swim anymore. She prays for forgiveness. She tells nobody.
When Pierra gets too upset and admits it her mother a year later, she is begged never to transform again. To hide it forever, for her own safety. Human traffickers could be anywhere, her mother says, and Devil Fruit users fetch a high price. Pierra promises to keep hiding. Pierra wonders if it will be easier now, having someone who understands.
Pierra's mother goes back to acting like nothing ever happened. It doesn't get much easier.
----
Pierra Piper is currently one of many passengers on a large Navy escort vessel, which is in the process of entering the Grand Line through the Calm Belt. Pierra is trying very hard not to look at the water or think about Sea Kings. Her nose is buried resolutely in a short book.
The book isn't exactly comforting, though; it's about a man who transforms into a bug and finds himself useless and helpless and burdensome to his family, unable to continue working at his job or caring for himself. Pierra knew the book was about this, and chose to read it anyway. She reminds herself of that as she bravely turns the page rather than closing it.
It still feels surreal that Pierra is making a once-in-a-lifetime journey into the dangerous waters of the Grand Line for something as droll as her lab assistant job.
Pierra digs her nail into the book's spine restlessly.
She wonders if somehow, the Marines who interviewed her had known. Had been able to tell, just by looking at her, that she's been cursed by a Devil Fruit. Maybe there's some dead giveaway that she just doesn't know about.
More realistically, Pierra had been chosen for transfer despite her inexperience simply because she's big. She isn't especially athletic, but maybe being 7 and a half feet tall was deterrent enough for some pirates. Or maybe it was about being sturdy and able to reach things in a large laboratory.
Pierra chews her thumbnail and makes a great effort not to think about the sorts of biological research experiments she's read about the World Government allegedly subjecting prisoners to, or just how many prisoners the Marines have access to on the Grand Line. Those reports might not even be true. Pierra's thumb begins to bleed.
She wishes she had turned this job down. She wishes her mother hadn't been so encouraging despite the danger. She wishes her dad hadn't sounded so happy for her. She wishes the job didn't pay so much. She wishes it didn't promise a free return trip in 6 months. She hopes she'll meet a rich Zoologist while she's on the Grand Line.
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outro-jo · 1 year
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when you watch the next episode without svt
pairing: svt x reader
type: reaction
warnings: none really, grumpy boys, emotionally manipulative jeonghan 🙄
request: not really but my friend gave me the idea
a/n: please read info before requesting 🩵
masterlist | info
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scoups- he had been looking forward to this for days. it got him through long practices and times when the boys were bugging him. when he needed to go to a happy place he would just think about being cuddled up to you and finally finding out what happens to your beloved protagonist. the second the spoiler left your lips his heart sank and his lips poked out in a pout. “wait, you watched it without me?” he of course sat through it with you but he pouted the entire time.
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jeonghan- he knew you did but that wasn’t gonna stop him from making you feel terrible about it. “babe! are you serious! i was looking forward to finding out what happens with you! i’ve been waiting all week.” it was absolutely a lie. as soon as he saw the little red bar across the episode thumbnail, he knew exactly what you had done and immediately watched the episode.  he wasn’t about to let you know that now, not when you were making his favorite dinner and then sat down to cuddle him while watching the episode. you kept giving little kisses of apology… until he spoiled the episode himself. “oops?”
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joshua- he honestly doesn’t care. our unbothered king only really waits because you care about it so much but he knows with his schedule and how impatient you are that he may not always get to watch episodes with you. he’ll tease you a little about your impatience but at the end of the day he just loves spending time with you so he watches it with you anyways.
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jun- he’s not mad… just disappointed. one of his favorite things about watching shows with you is seeing your reactions because you’re so expressive. sometimes you immerse yourself so much in shows that you’ll take things personally and he finds it adorable. now he doesn’t get to see your reaction to probably one of the best moments in the season. it’s nothing that some cuddles can’t fix though. 
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hoshi- our tiger is OFFENDED. you spent the entire season reminding him not to watch episodes without you, you’d send texts and scold him, only to not even listen yourself. it doesn’t matter how many times you apologize, he still sits on the sofa with his arms crossed and his lips in a pout. he’ll talk about it even days later and it took a LOT of convincing to start a new show together again.
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wonwoo- he honestly thinks it’s funny. it’s amusing to him that you’re so impatient that you can’t wait and he’s still just excited to see what happens even if you already know. he loves the way you can hardly contain yourself with the big plot twist and loves the way you glance over at him to see how he’s going to react. 
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woozi- annoyed. he knew it would be a while before you could see the big finale of your show with his work schedule but you promised him. he also knows how upset you’d be if he did the same to you and honestly he just wants the same kind of respect. 
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dk- ooohhh he’s pretty irritated but our sunshine isn’t one to be too confrontational so he keeps it to himself. he gives you a warm smile and tells you it’s ok but man, is he side eyeing you HARD while he’s watching. 
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mingyu- mingyu is PISSED. he can’t believe you’d watch it without him after you two had invested so much in the season. you knew how much this show meant to him and how much he loves watching it with you and you just couldn’t help yourself. but with some aegyo apologies and lots of kisses, he’ll learn to forgive you. 
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the8- to be honest, you and minghao have VERY different tastes in shows so when you finally found one you could agree on it was nothing short of a miracle. when the final episode came out he told you it might be a few days before he could come watch it with you and you were disappointed but you understood. minghao wasn’t so upset that you watched it without him, it was more that you didn’t say anything when you did and pretended like you hadn’t seen it. it kinda felt like you were lying to him and he HATES lying. once the two of you talked it out though you were all good.
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seungkwan- he made a BIIIGGG deal about it. he was ranting and raving for a good thirty minutes and you just let him. it was your fault after all but once he got it out of his system, he sat down and watched it with you. he also side eyed you for a while but once it got to the good stuff he was so shocked you two feel right back into your usual dynamics. you still had to make it up to him somehow though.
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vernon- another unbothered king. he was watching this show mostly for you and knew you probably couldn’t wait anyways so he almost expected it. he chuckled a little and asked if it was good but you refused to spoil anything for him. he agreed that it was good but he’s so lowkey, he never really gives you any sort of crazy reaction. your reliable vernon. 
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dino- another one who was disappointed but he’s so in love with you it doesn’t really matter what you do. you can do no wrong in his eyes. while he was a little sad, he still sat down with you and enjoyed the show. he also enjoyed the kisses to make up for your mistake. 
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lalicaaaaa · 3 months
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More content creator reader headcanons
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because yall liked the last one here are more headcanons with content creator reader weh
in Isaac's new cooking video reader almost throws up because of the "pigs in a blanket"
in schlatts Wii extravaganza reader smashed a tv by throwing it across the room
Whenever softwilly or yumi comes out with a new album or song you make the edit for it for editor! Reader
You are mostly seen as the group’s manager but to be fr Isaac takes care of everything business wise
When the group went to Japan and into the hentia store you stood outside with a separate camera for your own little vlog and softwilly’s thumbnail is just you standing outside of the building with a thumbs up
You are Larry are like cocain and crack, different things but also some what the same. Once while softwilly was vlogging a shop outing you and Larry kept putting random stuff in the basket like kids and always giggling about it
You once broke one a schlatt’s cameras by kicking it while playing just dance and one of his office windows
Speaking of just dance you slay how you like that by black pink in just dance like you do all the moves and eat up while other people keep Messing up.
If your a kpop fan big T definitely has stolen some of your photo cards and keeps them in the back of his phone, you : “have you seen my chuu photo card?” Bug T : covering the back of his phone “no?”
Might break out into song like in A Last to Leave VC you start singing and dancing to Shut Down by black pink being all aggressive with the moves and you hit yourself in the head yumi started crying from laughing so hard
You force schlatt to buy you a 3DS so that you can play Tomodachi Life on stream and make him fall in love with Princess Peach
Your TikTok’s are so silly bro it just be the most random stuff like “take a dollar or play Valorant” “Gimme the dollar”
You hate Valorant, you don’t even know why you just have beef with the game
Your side eyes are so mean that you can say it all with one quick side eye to anyone and chills run down their spines.
Your dog is almost as messy as you are, he is a boxer and pitbull mix so people are naturally extra cautious around him but he's a sweetheart!
When going indoor skydiving with the group and schlatt, a reader took her dog and he was able to skydive with them everyone was just taking pictures of him and now he has a photo on the wall of the place.
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#36 — 07/30/2022 8:04 AM
The thread commentary where I go insane over Issue 12 of the Looney Tunes comics
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(Adding the read more tag here because this post is hefty. All the text proceeding this is my live commentary from back then)
Oh this was fast. Also probably doesn’t count since Bugs is kissing him saying “Mama”
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Running into Bugs’ arms for safety as usual, I see
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In the roaring twenties, Bugs was still considered entertaining. But for stand up comedy. Which sorta makes sense since he does say funny remarks.
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Just Daffy ref— I love how the line art gives the illusion of eyelashes
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This song Bugs is singing is from the movie “The Cotton club” — so this story thing could be a parody? Maybe? Also here’s the song if y’wanna hear it. Really nice sounding.
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Ok bruh if you didn’t distract Daffy with a kiss, he would’ve had more time before he’d get caught
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Anyways, take two. Daffy goes back disguised as a more believable identity. Bugs still kinda playing along with a teasing “Who? Little ol me?”
Also that last panel… Bugs kinda does have that condition in a meta sense as do most franchise characters
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This guy’s funny
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Bugs pulled a BiA
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Present day thoughts: Aside from the comic cover being a hilarious thumbnail that incidentally smokes out the Baffy shippers (me), I found this story to be pretty standard for a Bugs and Daffy involved plot. See, if Bugs doesn't contribute much to the story and gets disproportionate applause for doing the bare minimum, I tend to be less engaged with the story. Like, unless he actually earned the applause, then I'll bite. His popularity plays a decent role in this one, so yeah, I'm not attached beyond the kiss. Also our server made that kiss panel a sticker and called it "oedipus complex, bugs?" and I feel like that deserves to be mentioned at least once.
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passivenovember · 11 months
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Disaster hits on the thirteenth day.
Really, if Billy cared to get technical, disaster hits five minutes before the fourteenth day. Verging on a long weekend. 
It’s all detail.
He’s shitfaced to celebrate the full stop of an insane work week, he’s exhausted but floating in that perfect little space of cross-fade where he’s just happy to be barefoot watching Animal Planet in his living room, and Steve’s shitfaced because Billy is, and they’re still freshly moved into their brand new apartment when Steve drops a bomb.
“Robin,” Steve hiccups, sprawled like a newborn deer on the couch with M&M dust stuck to his lip, “Robin’s gonna set me up,” He says.
Billy itches for a cigarette but he promised Steve he’d stop smoking them. They’re adults now, in this brand-new apartment, and adults have to think about things like gum disease and lung cancer. They’re not as young as they used to be so he chews on his thumbnail instead. His brain pokes at Steve’s words with a stick and wonders if they’ll wiggle their consonants at him, raising one foot to reveal webbed membra. 
“Hmm,” Billy says in the meantime. 
“I told her not to,” Steve says distantly. He flips his feet over his head, heels hitting so hard that their bong rattles on the coffee table. “I tried to get her to stop but. She wouldn’t listen.”
Billy rights the bong with an uninterested hand. “‘Course not.”
“She’s evil.”
“She’s a lesbian,” Billy tries, shrugging his shoulders at Steve, like, what’re you gonna do, right? W.L.W.
But Billy’s arm wrestled Buckley enough times. Seen her chop and carry firewood on one shoulder just as often as she cries over rom coms, so he’s not so fucking stupid that he’d really believe lesbianism is the root of all evil, but Steve giggles anyway.
And that’s worth it.
Billy smiles to himself, smug as a bug in a rug for getting Steve to laugh like that.
“She is a lesbian,” Steve says, scooting along the couch until his head plops like wet dough into Billy’s lap. “She’s dating Heather.”
“Heather,” Billy says, tasting her name on his tongue. Hairspray and lemon drop shots. College years.
“Heather Feather,” Steve says, laughing to himself, “It’s so weird.”
“How’s it weird?”
“Just, like. They orbited each other in high school. Like we did, y’know?”
Billy doesn’t know. But his heart stops and kickstarts all in the same second. Runs wild with the possibility that Steve means what Billy hopes he does.
Heather and Robin. Robin and Heather.
Steve and Billy could be like that, someday. 
Steve pokes at his chest. “You know what I mean, Bills?”
Billy says, “Yeah,” so smart that Steve nods and chews on his lower lip until it gets swollen like a summer strawberry. 
Billy’s heart thumps, jumping its own battery.
He loves this boy.
Fuck, has he loved this boy for years--
Billy fiddles with two silky strands of Steve’s hair. Tries to braid two pieces of hair together and fails miserably. Steve almost purrs, rolling his head against Billy’s thigh until his crown grazes Billy’s very interested dick.
And Billy’s used to sporting a half-chub around Steve. It’s not so bad, anymore. It was a lot harder to deal with before he learned about tucking his cockhead into the waistband of his jeans but now, on the couch in his lazy sweats, smoking pot in their brand new very adult apartment when Steve could’ve easily moved into a place of his own now that they’re out of college--
“Heather gets what she wants,” Steve says. In awe.
Billy thinks about turtles without a shell, shriveled and dying, to make his dick calm down.
“Yeah,” Billy mumbles, “She’s the princess.” 
“Thought I was the princess?” Steve wiggles on the couch until Billy can feel his warm, schnapps-y breath against his belly. His eyes are big and wet and if Billy didn’t know any better he’d think Steve was a second from bursting into tears and that.
Does nothing to help Billy’s situation.
“Hey,” Billy says, keeping Steve down, “You’re my princes. THE princess, right? The Queen.”
“The King,” Steve says, smug.
“That Brat,” Billy tells him. He tugs on Steve’s hair and the sound he makes goes right to Billy’s dick. 
And.
Suddenly they’re two seconds from Billy stabbing up through Steve’s skull, throbbing and wet--
“Sorry,” Steve says, smacking a hand over his mouth, “When I’m drunk I get--”
“--It’s alright--”
“--Shit, sorry,” Steve tries to sit up, cheeks red, but Billy holds him down with a gentle, firm hand. 
“It’s alright, Steve,” Billy says. He’s pitching a tent and if Steve sits up right now-- “We’ve been roommates since we were eighteen years old.”
“We’re only twenty-two--”
“Yeah, and I’ve had a front-row seat to four New Years Eves, three big breakups, that semester you were worried about telling your parents you were switching from business to early childhood ed--”
“--My God--”
“I’m just sayin’ your star quality wore off pretty quick.” And turned into a bone-aching, heart-stopping, knee-trembling Disney Prince Level of Heartthrob pheromone that Steve spews like a rogue sprinkler. 
Billy’s kind of obsessed with it. With Steve.
Billy sinks lower on the cushion, thighs spreading so Steve’s gotta shuffle away. “What’s Robin setting you up for? Summer camp instructor at the Y, or something?”
“That’d be so cool, actually.”
Billy smirks, “Working with kids?”
“Yeah, teaching them about the recorded history of macaroni art, catching fireflies, going to the pool--”
“You’re insane.”
Steve blinks, eyes big and hurt. “Why, because I love kids?”
“Well. Yeah?” Billy deadpans, tugging on Steve’s earlobe. “It’s okay to love kids a normal amount but when you spend nine months out of the year teaching the brats to read while they cover the walls in Sharpie so you lose your deposit--”
Steve giggles and Billy tries not to preen like a fucking exotic bird. 
“--Why the fuck would you sign up to spend your two and a half months of PTO with more kids?”
“I’m not spending my summer vacation as a YMCA camp counselor, Billy.”
“Nice,” Billy says, “Because if you were I was gonna say that dusting off that same tired art circle lesson plan for the next unassuming group of brats is probably the first sign of insanity--”
Steve smacks Billy’s stomach, settling in with his bare feet propped on the arm of the couch. “You’re the Wicked Bitch of the Midwest.” He determines. Like he likes it.
Loves it.
“How’d you know what my lesson plans look like?” Steve peers up at him, smile soft and eyes warm like the center of a chocolate cupcake fresh from the oven.
Billy grins back, running his fingers through Steve’s hair until all the softness in his eyes melts away, “If it’s not a classroom of 14 strangers what’s left for Robin to set you up with?”
“A date,” Steve says.
And.
Billy must turn to dust on the spot. His face probably cracks like the surface of a mirror, his fingers ground to the bone so he can feel the rattling timbre of Steve’s heartbeat as he waits to see what’s going to happen.
“Say something,” Steve insists. Like he knows what that news means to Billy, and. He’s hoping it isn’t true.
Billy breathes deeply through his nose, but it feels like his airways have closed like summer roads, little red signs cluing construction. 
Steve sits up, Billy’s fingers slipping from his hair. He smooths it back into place. It’s wild. It pops up again like a spring-loaded toy. Like a jack in the box. 
Billy says, “Who’s the lucky guy,” flat and fragile because his windpipe is being crushed under the weight of unshed emotion.
Steve doesn’t hear it. His face hardens. “I dunno who he is,” Steve says, “That’s the point of a setup--”
“--you didn’t say it was a blind date, how am I supposed to know--”
“--it doesn’t fucking matter, alright?” Steve swings his feet to the floor, elbows to knees so Billy can’t see his face, only the angry red vein that thumbs blood through his neck to his brain. “I thought. I thought I would tell you--”
“And what?” Billy demands.
Steve turns, eyes like a summer storm. Muddy and swamped. He’s breathing like he just ran a race. Lost the gold. “I thought i would tell you about the date, and. I thought you were gonna say something.” 
Billy sits, frozen and terrified, “Steve--”
Steve gets up. He grabs his keys from the bowl on the coffee table, tugs his shoes on by the front door, and slams out of the house.
--
Billy doesn’t know why he couldn’t say it.
Anything. 
So he drinks. He drinks and watches the door and tries to figure out what he’ll say when, someday, it opens and Steve is there cloaked in sunlight.
--
Really, it’s Robin’s fault so he calls Heather, clutching a bottle of whiskey by the neck to keep himself in his place against the wall by the telephone.
Robin answers. “Hello?” She says. And she’s high. Billy knows she’s high because they went to college together.
“Put Feather on,” He demands because if he has to listen to Robin’s voice he’ll stick his head in the oven and end it all.
“Are you drunk?”
“Are you a bitch?”
“God, you’re such an asshole--” Robin starts, but someone yanks the phone away. 
“Billy baby,” Heather says, and Billy tries to not immediately burst into tears at the sound of her voice, scratchy from smoking too much.
He fails. 
In the background, someone’s grumbling under their breath. Someone else is shushing them. 
Steve is at Heather and Robins because. Of course he is, and. Billy doesn’t want to intrude but they’re his lesbians too, alright? They’re all friends. Best friends. Billy has just as much a right to run to their safety as Steve does, and--
“Billy, what’s wrong?” Heather asks. For once in her life she sounds worried. Tired.
Billy wants to tell her everything. 
He’s in love.
Steve wants Billy to be in love with him, and Billy is in love with him but he couldn’t say it and now--
“Do you want me to come over?”
Billy thumps his forehead against the wall. “Feather May, ‘M drunk.”
Heather pulls away from the receiver to whisper something at Steve and Robin. Distantly, he imagines all tree of them crowding around the telephone, anxious to hear what he’s going to say like this is the 1940s and Billy’s the President of The World, making a speech that will really change things, and not.
This. Whatever he is right now.
Pathetic. Smarmy little sack of shit--
“You’re not a sack of shit, Bills,” Heather says, shushing him. “You’re just scared, that’s all--”
“Makes me a sack ah shit, Heath.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Someone’s mumbling again. It sounds like Steve. 
Steve, when he’s at the breakfast table reading the paper to himself quietly. Steve, his head tilted close to a museum plaque at that shitty little pioneer museum in the valley, reading to Billy because Billy was too stubborn to do it himself. Steve, whispering into the receiver in the middle of the night, every night, when he was studying abroad during their last semester of junior year--
“Is,” Billy tries, as the room trips over itself. “Is Steve there?” 
He is. Heather doesn’t have to tell him. Steve is everywhere, written in the sky and on diner tops and scrawled like graffiti over stop signs.
“Yeah,” Heather says. Solemn.
And Billy’s never heard his witch bitch sound solemn before so he starts sniffling again, worried that this means Steve’s never gonna come home because Billy’s afraid. 
“Can he hear me?”
“Yeah,” Heather says, and. 
Billy pushes away from the wall. Wants to stand on his own two feet for this. “I don’t want you to go on a blind date, Steve. Or a set up, or. Whatever. Because I want to watch T.V. with you. And we just signed our brand new lease, like, yesterday and we haven’t even unpacked yet and I thought I could make pancakes. We could fight over who gets the biggest room, or we could move into the biggest room together, like--”
“--Billy--”
“Not in twin beds. Not like those couples from the 1960s but like. Lovers. We could make it our home, and you could read the paper to me out loud on Sunday’s, and I could brush your hair because your hair is so soft, Steve. I want a pillow and a sweater and a blanket made of your hair, I want--”
“--Billy, stop--”
“I want to live inside you. Forever. In this house, inside of you, beside you, on top of you, I want. You. I love you.” Billy says, from the floor. 
He sat down.
Somewhere in the middle of that he sat down, and the floor is nice. Steve should be here with him.
"I can move out,” He says. Like. Problem solved, and. The line goes silent, everyone holding their breath, so Billy takes another swig from the bottle and clarifies, heart breaking, “I don’t want Steve to go away.”
No one says anything. 
Billy tries not to cry, again. 
Fails.
“I don’t want him to never come home,” Billy says, wrapping himself in the phone cord, somehow. “If he won’t come home because I’m here, I’ll go. I’ll go pack a bag right now, but. I’ll make sure it’s perfect for him. I’ll make sure it’s home. I’ll make some bread and put the coffee on and I’ll clean the kitchen before I disappear, I’ll--”
“I love you,” Steve says.
Steve.
Stevestevesteve--
There’s snot running down Billy’s nose. It’s disgusting. 
“I’m not leaving,” Steve says, sounding. Way more sober than Billy’s ever been in his entire life. Like he’s studied Billy, he’s mapped the path, he knows what he wants--
“I’m never leaving you,” Steve tells him, voice soft like feather down. “No matter what.”
Billy lifts his whiskey bottle to find that it’s empty. “Steve, I’m drunk.”
On the other end of the line, Steve hums. Billy knows he’s chewing on his thumb nail, deep in thought like he gets when it’s late and Billy’s a burning forest needing something cool to hang onto.
Billy leans against the wall. 
When he was a kid he used to imagine what he could’ve done differently. How many times he could’ve done differently, and.
It starts with his mom. 
He tried. She never listened, but Steve does. Billy wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and says, “Can you come home, now,”
And Steve says, “I’ve already got my shoes on.”
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dystopianam · 4 months
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About the "Fake/Beta thumbnails syndrome" ...
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For those who don't know of what I'm talking about, when you open the Capps and Montys for the first time, the thumbnails of Tybalt and Mercutio looks like this, with these funny faces instead of their real faces which are these:
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But after a few seconds the thumbnails refresh themselves and change with the real ones (if this doesn't happen you have to make them change appearance in the mirror).
Now, the "funny" thumbnails They are the beta faces of Tybalt and Mercutio. But why are they so strange?
For Tybalt the solution is very simple. Tybalt Beta was not Juliette's brother, but as in the original story he was the COUSIN, son of Goneril and Albany, and for this reason "Tybalt Beta" nicknamed by us "Fakebalt" has this strange face. He has the genetics of Goneril and Albany. But WHY then, Tybalt Beta had red hair even if his father wasn't Caliban? How you can see, Goneril have brown hair and Albany blonde hair.
That's simple. Goneril real, genetic, hair colour Is red (recessive genes from a grandmother or great grandmother) but Maxis changed her hair without changing her genetic code.
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BUT having then become Juliette's BROTHER, Maxis probably thought well of making him look more like his new parents: Cordelia and Caliban. The actual Tybalt looks much more like his new mother, but he has maintained certain physical details of Goneril such as cheekbones and lips (even if they are not annoying and make sense, he also resembles his grandfather Consort so, I have always appreciated this grandfather-grandchild resemblance).
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But although having to recreate Tybalt's appearance was a must with the change of parents, and the fact that he doesn't look too much like the new parents is also justified by the fact that Cordelia and Caliban have corrupted faces... I don't understand WHY Mercutio was changed.
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As we already know, Maxis is used to deleting Sims and letting other Sims overwrite the data of other Sims and therefore having to recreate many Sims. ALL the premade of Veronaville have been recreated, but Tybalt and Mercutio... they are special. They are not new sims, they do not (apparently) seem to have overwritten the data of other sims, but it seems that at most they have overwritten the data of themselves (miraculously?) or that Maxis has simply changed only their facial structure (even if I find it strange that their data remained intact given that all the others were destroyed with the change of neighborhood ID)
Or at least, they are not the only sims to have this different thumbnails perk. Romeo and Puck have this thing too. Except I've never seen the old thumbnails of Puck.
I don't know what happened, maybe at a certain point by changing the ID of the neighborhood they ended up with the corrupted face and Maxis had to recreate it?
Many sims have been recreated from scratch, but why have they been...fixed? Maybe it's possible that Maxis already knew about the corrupted faces and that they knew how to fix it but they never wanted to do it with the deceased sims because "they can't be resurrected" anyway? (or at least, you couldn't until the first expansion came out)
What do you think happened to these sims with the thumbnails bug? Maybe they have an old character file with a corrupt face that has been updated (with the face fix)?
While I can understand why Tybalt was changed (Tybalt was supposed to look like his new parents) but Puck, Mercutio and Romeo? The old Mercutio and Romeo (beta) have the genetics of Claudio and Olivia, while the new ones do not. Why change their appearance if Claudio and Olivia don't have any problems? They're not even corrupt!
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