#why jira

[softwarereviewforall]

Review of JIRA Software by Atlassian

JIRA Software by Atlassian: A Comprehensive Review

Overall

Rating: 4.5

JIRA Software by Atlassian is a powerful tool for project management and issue tracking. Users have found it to be an invaluable asset for their organizations. The overall rating of 4.5 reflects its effectiveness and utility in various scenarios.

Ease of Use

Rating: 4.1

While JIRA is praised for its user-friendly interface and ease of use in setting up different help desks or ticket requests, some users have encountered difficulties, resulting in a rating of 4.1. However, its versatility and user-friendly aspects still make it a solid choice.

Customer Service

Rating: 4.1

Users highly appreciate JIRA's customer service, rating it at 4.1. The support received from Atlassian has been described as amazing, enhancing the overall user experience.

Features

Pros:

Efficient Task Management: JIRA is excellent for creating tasks and logging issues.

Customization: Users can set up different help desks tailored to specific departments.

Integration: It seamlessly integrates with other tools like BitBucket and Zendesk, saving time and streamlining workflows.

Cons:

Task Cloning Issues: Cloning tasks when they are marked as "Done" can be problematic.

Learning Curve: Some users find it challenging to use, leading to misunderstandings and mistakes.

Costly Licensing: The licensing structure, particularly related to plugins, can be costly.

Productivity Impact: In some cases, JIRA has been noted to slow down productivity, requiring permissions for document access.

Value for Money

Rating: Varies

The value for money with JIRA largely depends on the specific needs and budget of the organization. While some find it to be a cost-effective solution, others mention concerns related to licensing costs and limitations.

Likelihood to Recommend

Rating: Varies

The likelihood to recommend JIRA varies, with users providing ratings between 7 and 10 out of 10. It is often recommended for agile teams and project management, but the learning curve and user experience may influence recommendations.

Alternatives Considered

Trello: Some users switched from Trello to JIRA due to JIRA's wider user base and additional features.

Microsoft Project: The transformation to agile practices led to a switch from Microsoft Project to JIRA for some organizations.

Azure DevOps Services: Azure DevOps was replaced by JIRA due to cost considerations and user management issues.

Reasons for Choosing JIRA

Users have chosen JIRA for its flexibility, scalability, and extensive user base. The ability to manage multiple projects seamlessly and the availability of a strong community for support were key reasons for selection.

In summary, JIRA Software by Atlassian offers a powerful solution for project management and issue tracking, with its user-friendly interface, integration capabilities, and exceptional customer service. However, potential users should be aware of the learning curve and potential cost considerations when choosing JIRA for their organization's needs.

[mskinkyafro]

I ain’t trying to be mean, but idk why people are taking Victoria’s “revelation” at face value. 🥴 Like logistically that would not be possible, at least not her to know already. But also sorry to break any immersion, these shows have protection out the wazoo. Like yall pls BFFR.

[theodoravery]

the option to customise the lis' hair is fun in theory but in practice i think some players should have that option taken away because why are you giving taz textured hair and braids to jirayu and mattias

[jirachuuu]

I got my drivers license today and im so happy 💪🏼😤

[jirayus]

jira will spend all his money (the little that he has) on beer and cigarettes instead of rent, electric, heating, water, food, etc etc any day of the week but the second the consequences for his actions happens (he's cold, he's hungry, he's on the verge of getting evicted etc), he's like .. i really spent it all on this? a few bottles? a few cigarettes? then the guilt comes, then the regret comes, then the crying comes. and he's wondering why? why do i keep doing this? but he still never learns because you know damn well he'll do the same fucking thing next week. his addiction/addictive personality is something that truly destroys him .. and combined with his codependency, it's a disaster lol

[unashamedly-enthusiastic]

Let's whap a 'mature content' label on the public street art commissioned, designed, and celebrated for addressing the shame around breastfeeding

Let's be a mural with mama

[riizegasm]

Blossom || M. JH

❀ pairing: crown prince!myung jaehyun x princess!reader, implied fem!reader

❀ genre: royalty!au, arranged marriage!au, fluff, minor angst

❀ word count: ~4.6k

❀ warnings: very minor royalty-typical misogyny (not from jaehyun)

❀ summary: A loveless marriage isn't high on anyone's list of desires, especially yours. However, all it takes is a certain crown prince to show you that duty and desire don't always have to conflict. With a little nurturing, love, too, can blossom.

❀ a/n: The writer’s block was so real for this fic!! Despite that, I do think it turned out pretty well. I hope you guys think so too. As always, likes, replies, and reblogs are encouraged. Happy reading!

masterlist

Dreams of your wedding day always consisted of one thing: love. Ever since you were little, you imagined being married to none other than the love of your life. It didn’t matter what dress you were wearing, be it the custom garments of your kingdom or the ornate ceremonial dresses of another, because you would be marrying someone you loved. The cake could be flavorless and bland, and the crown that you wore could be heavy or feather light. None of that mattered. Because you would be in love. 

You were not in love with Crown Prince Myung Jaehyun. And yet, you were set to wed him anyway. 

Your stomach churns as the traditional shell calls of your kingdom go off, their airy whistle signifying the entrance of your guests. As the gilded doors to the throne room open, your breath remains caught in your throat as you lay eyes on the procession of people that enter. First, an older man, dressed in bright gem tones that match the ones in his crown. Then there’s a woman, her yellow and green satin dress flapping behind her in the wind. And finally, a young man. 

You don’t know what you expected the Crown Prince to look like, only having heard stories about how charming and personable he is. But when he enters the room, you are stunned by his appearance. He is breathtaking. 

His charisma bleeds off him in waves, emphasized by the kind smile he wears. It pulls his rounded cheeks upwards, boyish dimples indenting the golden surface. His gaze betrays some of his confidence, however, pupils shaking as they take in the room around him. It is only when he finally arrives at the center of the room, standing proudly next to his parents, that his eyes land on you.  

As a child, some of the aids in the palace used to tell you fantasy stories about what it felt like to be in love. They spoke of fluttering tummies and reddening cheeks, of a smile you’re unable to fight off and a lighter feeling when you’re around them. Looking at Crown Prince Myung Jaehyun gives you one of those four sensations, but by the glimmer in his eye, you’re sure it won’t be long before you check all of them off the list. 

“Welcome to Vyrona,” your father greets. “It is a pleasure to see you again, King Jaeseong, Queen Jirae.”

King Jaeseong grins, bowing his head in greeting. “It’s an honor, Your Majesty. I am delighted to introduce you to my son, Myung Jaehyun, the Crown Prince of Nexdor.”

The man in question bows at the waist, his crown not moving from its perfect position atop his light brown curls. “It’s an honor, Your Majesty.”

When Jaehyun returns to his upright position, his eyes find yours once again, not even bothering to continue to address the man in power. You can’t help but cock an eyebrow at the bold gesture, confused on why the man would choose to focus all of his attention on you instead of the conversation around him. At your silent question, Jaehyun just shoots you a small smirk, still refusing to break eye contact. 

“Well,” your father says, clapping his hands together once. “I am truly excited for the merging of our kingdoms. My daughter, Princess Y/N, is just as excited about the marriage as we are. I hope she is to your satisfaction, Prince Jaehyun.”

“She is breathtaking, Your Majesty. I would be honored to have her as my bride.”

Jaehyun speaks with conviction, words tinged with a hint of awe. It’s as if he genuinely believes what he’s saying, as if he is truly honored to be married to a woman he doesn’t even know. You can’t say that you necessarily agree. 

“Then it is settled,” your father declares. “Y/N will move to Nexdor in one month’s time, and the two of you will be wed in three.”

“That sounds lovely, Your Majesty,” Jaehyun beams. “I am looking forward to having such a gem come join us in Nexdor. I promise I will be nothing short of an amazing husband to your daughter.”

Your father chuckles, “I can tell.”

.         .         .

Lush grasses and sprawling gardens are all you can see as you peer out from your balcony. Nexdor has always been known as the “Green Kingdom”, but you were never able to experience it for yourself until this very moment. It makes sense that Nexdorians always have a lovely tan complexion and full, rounded faces. The sun is strong and the soil is rich, leading to plentiful harvests that never seem to wane. 

The pale color of the sky is dull in comparison to the rich ocean blue that you are used to in Vyrona, making you miss your sandy shores and the permanent sound of crashing waves. The wind doesn’t have a salty smell, but instead carries the mild scent of fresh flowers. Instead of crashing waves and gulls cawing, there are the faint squeals of livestock and the occasional bark of a dog. 

Nexdor seems to be teeming with life in the opposite way that you were used to in your kingdom. But you suppose the two simply exist as opposites, land and sea, sun and moon, meat and fish. You wonder if you and Jaehyun will exist as opposites as well, or if you can find some way to overcome your innate differences for the sake of the marriage. 

“Your highness?” A voice calls, punctuated by a firm rap of knuckles against the wooden doorframe. 

A glance over your shoulder reveals Jaehyun standing there, dressed much more casually than you had priorly seen him. It’s a good look on him, looser, relaxed garments and unkempt curls. He looks youthful and relaxed, undeniably attractive in the confident set of his shoulders and the soft smile he wears. It makes you wonder why rumors always raved about his personality rather than his looks. You guess he just must be that charming. 

“Come in,” you call from the balcony, not bothering to continue to look as the man approaches. 

In your periphery, you can make out the man leaning his forearms on the wooden railing of the balcony. He seems to be taking in the scenery, much like you are, eyes fluttering shut as a warm breeze begins to blow. 

“How are you settling in, Your Highness?”

You scoff. “We are set to be wed in a few months. I don’t think we quite need to refer to each other by title, don’t you agree?”

Jaehyun chuckles, ducking his head so it hangs between his shoulders. When he straightens up, he props his head in his hand, twisting his upper body to face you. You try your best not to stare at the slope of his nose or the plush of his lips, fighting the heat that is rising to your cheeks. 

“I guess you’re right. How are you settling in, Y/N?”

The flutter through your core has you taking a deep breath to steel your nerves. “It has been fine, I suppose. It has only been about an hour, so I can’t say that I have seen much. But it’s beautiful. Your kingdom is beautiful.”

Jaehyun’s smile widens, gaze never once leaving your own. “It surely is.”

There’s a moment of silence as you turn back to take in the scenery, letting the warmth of the sun caress your face. The Crown Prince simply continues to regard you, shameless in the way he scans your face. The undivided attention has anxiety bubbling in your abdomen. Never before had you been on the receiving end of such a stare, not during the numerous balls you had attended or during any royal appearances outside of the palace. 

“Is everything okay?” You ask softly, voice shaking with uncertainty. 

“Do you like flowers?”

The question takes you aback. “I suppose I do.”

“Which is your favorite?”

“I have always been quite fond of azaleas, specifically the bright pink ones. They tend to grow on bushes not too far from the shores of Vyrona.”

Jaehyun just smiles, nodding softly. “That suits you.”

When he finally turns to look out at the landscape, your shoulders sag in relief, no longer the sole object of the prince’s attention. You wonder if he is often like this, wide eyes sparkling as they take in every detail. Do his cheeks always dimple, or is it only when he smiles on certain occasions? Does his mouth always look so plush as it parts to form slow syllables?

“How are you feeling about the marriage?” His voice is softer as he speaks this time. “I mean how do you really feel, not the answer they make you rehearse in etiquette class.”

His request for candor makes you smile. “I don’t quite know, yet. You know, as a young girl, they tell you stories about the glamor of finding a husband and getting married. But I’m not quite sure what to expect anymore.”

“Are you saying I’m not glamorous enough for you, princess?”

You can’t help but giggle as the man places his cheeks in his palms, fluttering his eyelashes repeatedly. There’s something in the tilt of his head and the fanning of his eyelashes that truly is glamorous, but you fear the result of telling him so. Instead, you just roll your eyes playfully. 

“You know what I mean.”

Jaehyun smiles, finally dropping his pose in favor of leaning back against the railing. “I do. But in all fairness, we have only known each other for mere hours. If you give me the chance, I promise I will try to make this life glamorous for you.”

You return his smile, trying not to stare too hard at the way the sun highlights his Cupid’s bow. “I’d expect nothing less.”

.          .          .

Wedding preparations are more strenuous than you could have ever imagined. Dress fittings and pastry tastings prove to be tiresome, while ballroom dance lessons leave your feet sore and aching. You spend hours per day learning about Nexdorian customs and ceremonial practices, all with the expectation of having them memorized in less than two months. 

As exhausting as it is, having Jaehyun by your side makes everything a little easier. 

You grow accustomed to the way he whispers jokes under his breath when the history teacher drones on and on about traditional wedding practices. He busts silly dance moves and makes funny faces during ballroom class, stopping at nothing to simply make you laugh. Everything he does in your presence proves to be for the sake of making you comfortable. 

You hate to admit that it works like a charm, making you smile even when you’re feeling extra homesick. Just thinking about his soft jokes and melodious laugh is enough to bring heat to your cheeks. It’s odd to acknowledge that Jaehyun is simply perfect, and he’s about to be yours. He works hard to prove himself to you everyday, as if his devotion to making you comfortable can be substituted for the lack of love. 

Maybe you can mistake it as such.

When Jaehyun knocks on your door with a picnic basket and a blanket in hand, it’s easy to mistake it as love. When he leads you out to a meadow dotted with purple and yellow flowers with a hand on your waist, it’s easy to mistake it as love. When he tucks a vibrant purple blossom behind your ear, it’s easy to mistake it as love. 

Even now, as soft winds ruffle Jaehyun’s curls as he tilts his head back, facing the sun, you wonder if this could be love. He looks extremely serene with his eyes closed and dimpled cheeks, a soft smile permanently gracing his face. You don’t think you’ve seen him frown once since you have moved into the palace, the man always wide eyed and positive down to his core. 

“You know,” Jaehyun starts, eyes still closed. “You do a lot of staring at me.”

Instantly, you avert your eyes, fighting the heat rising to your cheeks. “Consider it payback for how much you stare at me.”

Jaehyun opens his eyes, shooting you a small smirk. “Well, can you blame me? You’re gorgeous.”

“And you’re quite the flatterer.”

“I hardly think it’s a crime to compliment my fiancé.”

For some reason, the word makes you cringe, harshly gripping the picnic blanket underneath your fingers. It’s hardly the first time you’ve heard him refer to you as such, but it always leaves a stale taste in your mouth. 

“Does it not bother you?” You question. “The fact that we are set to be wed and we have only known each other for mere months?”

Jaehyun sighs. “I think the strength of a connection cannot be determined by the time spent together, don’t you?”

The implication has your heart pounding in your chest. “Are you saying that we have a strong connection?”

For a moment, there is mere silence, only interrupted by the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. Jaehyun seems calm as he begins to lean forward, only stopping mere inches from your face. The close proximity has your breath stuttering in your chest, still not used to Jaehyun’s confidence in displays of affection. 

“I feel it,” Jaehyun murmurs softly, eyes momentarily flicking down to your lips. They return to your eyes just as quickly. “Don’t you?”

A flutter runs through your core as Jaehyun’s tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. 

“I-I do,” you whisper, breath stuck in your throat. 

With a bright smile, Jaehyun pulls away, forcing you to come back to your senses. 

“Good,” he beams. “Now let’s eat.”

It’s almost as if the man can sense his effect on you, constantly meeting you with fleeting touches and secretive grins in the coming days. After the picnic, he makes a point to surprise you with a random wildflower each day, always tucking it behind your ear as if leaving a garnish on an exquisite dish. His fingers will lightly trace your jaw as they retreat, leaving a path of flames in his wake. 

His touch emboldens you, allowing you to reciprocate his affections bit by bit. As the days pass, you begin to lean into the hands that guide you by the waist. You joke alongside him, feeling free to put on your silliest face and tell your cringiest jokes. 

It begins to feel like a relationship, one that goes beyond the simple pressures of royal duty. Smiles begin to turn purposeful instead of secretive. Knowing glances are exchanged as you both seek each other out in a crowded room. Pulses go from racing at the first glimpse of each other to mellowing out when the other finally makes an appearance. 

In a month’s time, you will be married to Crown Prince Myung Jaehyun. And for the first time in a long time, you start to believe that maybe love will make an appearance at your wedding after all. 

.         .         .

The days when Jaehyun leaves you by your lonesome prove to be the hardest. You understand, of course. He is the Crown Prince with a plethora of obligations to his Kingdom, unable to solely sit back and prepare for the wedding like you do. Ruling comes first, always, even before being a fiancé. 

It’s a particularly gloomy day when an aid informs you that Jaehyun will be in political meetings all day to address a recent conflict at the northern border. With soft rain pelting the windows, you have no other option than to explore the palace. 

Polished wood squeaks under the weight of your slippers as you roam the seemingly endless halls. Every room that you pass seems to serve a different purpose, some being bedrooms while others are studies. You even find yourself in a room lined with portraits of past rulers and their families, each one telling a little bit of the history of Nexdor. Adjacent to the portrait of King Jaeseong and his family lies an empty space, just waiting for the portrait of Jaehyun and his family to fill it. You cringe at the thought of your face permanently plastered here for any wandering eye to see. 

Further down the hall from the portrait room seems to be a series of meeting rooms, each one with a different set up. As you venture down the hall, a half opened door piques your interest. But just as you move to push the door open, a frustrated groan stops you in your tracks. 

“I promise you, Father. I’m not losing focus.” There’s a frustrated edge to Jaehyun’s voice that you have never experienced before. “I know what I need to do to rule my country.”

“Clearly, you don’t!” King Jaeseong booms. “Instead of attending to your duties at Crown Prince, you are too worried about caring for the princess. You cannot let petty feelings get in the way of you ruling this kingdom to the best of your ability.”

“Feelings?” Jaehyun scoffs. “This marriage is purely political, you know that just as well as I do. I don’t even care for her. She is simply set to be my wife for our kingdom’s gain, and that is it.”

Despite King Jaeseong’s reply, the words seem to echo throughout the empty hallway, setting off a ringing in your ears. 

You release a shaky sigh, feeling your heart plummet to the pit of your core. The corners of your eyes begin to sting with the force of incoming tears, forcing you to blink rapidly to keep them at bay. It’s impossible to tune into the rest of the conversation, your mind having shut down after hearing Jaehyun’s comment. With no other choice, you flee back down the hallway, seeking nothing more than the solace of your room. 

What feels like hours pass as you simply stare up at your ceiling, letting your emotions ebb and flow like waves against the shore. As devastated as you are, you can’t help but be upset with yourself more than anything. Jaehyun was right, after all. The marriage is simply political. There is no place for feelings in ruling a kingdom, the fairy tales you were told as a kid being nothing more than just that, tales. 

Yet another part of you aches at the thought of Jaehyun viewing you as a political move. All the jokes and smiles were nothing more than what would be displayed at a public hearing. The fleeting touches and the brushes of fingers against bare skin existed simply to placate a political tide. What has begun to feel like more has been reduced to a political pawn game. 

Your chances at being in love had been squashed. 

So, you began to reciprocate. Gone were the giggles when Jaehyun cracked a joke in history class. Attempts at getting sidetracked during ballroom dance lessons were met with a blank stare. Picnic requests were denied and touches dodged. After all, there are no feelings involved in politics. 

It seems like the change takes a while for Jaehyun to register, meeting your blank stares with concerned gazes and questioning looks. His fingers halt in midair when you flinch away from his touch, clearly still hoping to grasp onto you. Dimpled smiles turn into exaggerated pouts when you deny him time and time again. You would find his reactions cute, if not for the reason this is all happening. 

It’s all political, you remind yourself. 

It isn’t until a few days before the wedding that Jaehyun seems to have had enough. He corners you after a particularly grueling ballroom practice, grabbing you by the hand. His grip is tight enough that you aren’t able to pull away, helplessly following along as he drags you through the palace corridors. 

The two of you end up in the portrait room, with the eyes of all of the past rulers staring down at you. It’s only when you come to a stop that Jaehyun releases his grip from your hand. The man is clearly irritated, cheeks ruddy and eyes glassy. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he had been crying. 

“What is going on?” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Our wedding is in a few days and you have been ignoring me!” Jaehyun sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just want to know what happened. I thought…I thought—,”

“You thought what?”

“I thought that you were learning to love me! I thought that you were beginning to feel the same way.”

Jaehyun’s exasperation rings loud in the otherwise silent room. His chest heaves with the force of his words, fingers twitching as they seek something to grasp. You can’t help but scoff at his demeanor. 

“Feel the same way? You were the one who said that I’m only going to be your wife for the kingdom’s political gain!” A hot feeling begins to bloom in your chest as you remember the encounter. “I believe your exact words were, ‘I don’t even care for her.’”

Jaehyun’s face falls, eyes glossy. “You heard that?”

“Of course I did,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “I was walking around the palace and I heard you meeting with your father.”

“You don’t—I meant—just…I promise it’s not what you think!”

“I heard you loud and clear, Jaehyun. You can’t take back your words now.”

“I know, but I promise I didn’t mean that.” Jaehyun sighs. “Can you follow me for a second? Please, I just need to show you something.”

Jaehyun’s hand is shaking as he offers it to you, reaching out with his last shred of hope. His eyes bore holes into you, as if looking at you can keep his tears at bay. It takes a few moments of staring at the hand, taking in its subtle tremor, before you finally exhale, letting your palm meet his. The smile that he shoots you is blinding, forcing you to look away from its power. 

You struggle to keep up as Jaehyun practically runs down the hallways, hair flapping in the wind. It reminds you of a puppy, how overeager he is, and you imagine that if he had a tail, it would be fiercely wagging. Every so often, he looks back, shooting you a smile that has a stampede running through your abdomen. 

With the speed that you two are moving at, you seem to arrive at your destination in no time. Jaehyun’s panting as he leads you to a final door, sunlight flooding your vision as he pushes it open. Trekking down a pair of outdoor steps leaves you along the eastern palace wall, the once empty space now a sight that makes your jaw drop. 

Numerous flower beds and bushes form a maze along the rich soil, some of them still only budding. Even though many of the flowers are not yet in full bloom, it’s easy to tell what they will be. A specific set of hot pink buds on a nearby bush steals your breath away. 

You release Jaehyun’s hand as you walk deeper into the garden, squatting in front of the bush to see if your eyes are deceiving you. It’s hard to be sure as you squint, but when a breeze blows, flooding your senses with an all too familiar fragrance, there’s no mistaking it for anything else. 

“Azaleas?” You breathe. “But how? They don’t grow here. The closest azaleas are in—,”

“Vyrona,” Jaehyun interrupts. “The closest azaleas are a few hundred miles away, but I had some staff travel to uproot some to bring here.”

You’re frozen in place as Jaehyun approaches, utterly breathless. “But why?”

“Because you said they were your favorite.”

As Jaehyun closes the gap between you two, you find yourself blinking back tears. This time, when he attempts to gather your hands in his, you let him, not daring to put up a fight. Slowly, he brings your left hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles before repeating the move with your right hand. 

“Y/N, I wasn’t lying when I said I felt a connection between us. From the day I first saw you, I knew I would do anything for you, and I still will.” Jaehyun lets out a wet chuckle. “You know, if we weren’t already set to be wed I would have proposed to you again, right here in this spot. That’s how much I want to be with you.”

You shake your head, fighting a grimace. “But, your father…”

“I only said what I had to in order to appease him. He is nervous that I’m losing focus of my duties and losing sight of what I need to do for the kingdom. And honestly, he’s right. Because these days, all I can think about is you.”

The feeling is undoubtedly reciprocated, but the words to tell him such remain caught in your throat. All you are able to muster is a questioning hum. 

“You’re constantly on my mind to the point where I feel like a fool. I can’t seem to stop talking about you to anyone who might listen, my father included. Honestly, I have never experienced love before, princess. But to the extent I do, I want to experience it with you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying your best not to get lost in the reflection of you in Jaehyun’s eyes. “I want to experience it with you, too.”

Dimples indent Jaehyun’s cheeks as a relieved smile crosses his face. He uses his grip on your hands to pull you even closer, causing you to stumble into his chest. Both of your hands fall to his chest to stabilize yourself, while his own fall to your waist. This close, you can see the soft shadows that his eyelashes cast on his cheeks and the sharp swell of his Cupid’s bow.

You find yourself thinking the same thing that you thought when you first saw the Prince. He is breathtaking. 

“Jaehyun…” you trail off, watching the way his tongue darts out to trace his bottom lip. 

“Will you let me love you, princess?”

A small nod is all you’re able to get out before a soft pair of lips meet yours. 

Jaehyun kisses the way you would imagine a young prince would, unrestrained and confident. He takes the lead in letting his lips blanket yours, grip tightening around your waist as he draws you in for more. It’s addicting, the way he strikes a balance between giving and taking that leaves you panting when you both pull away. 

“Let’s get married,” Jaehyun breathes out, letting his forehead rest on yours. 

You can’t fight the giggle that bubbles up in your chest. “We already are next week.”

“Oh, right.”

At his sheepish tone, you can’t help but laugh fully, throwing your head back in an unrestrained fit of giggles. The sight proves contagious, as Jaehyun’s laughs begin to harmonize with yours. It’s an addicting sensation, to hear the laughs of your fiancé while the fragrance of your favorite flower fills your nose. 

“Jaehyun,” you whisper after you are able to tame your fit of giggles. “Thanks for making this all feel a little more glamorous.”

Jaehyun just smiles, giving your waist a light squeeze. “You don’t have to thank me. I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to make each day feel more glamorous than the last.”

You nod, feeling the sun warm your lips as you smile softly. 

“I’d expect nothing less.”

.FIN.

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 3.3k+

Note: Oh my goodness thank you everyone for the kind words!!!!! I'm literally dying. Also if you're a programmer irl pls tell me if i sound like a boomer trying to write gen z slang. i also only did programming in school

xxx

The next two weeks blur into a rhythm I didn’t expect to find so quickly.

George and I fall back into sync like no time has passed. We have late-night conversations over leftovers, arguing about whether I should care about FIFA (absolutely not), whilst sitting too close on the couch without noticing. There’s an ease to it that’s both comforting and dangerous.

I find myself slipping back into old habits: stealing his hoodie when mine’s still damp from the wash, knowing exactly how he takes his coffee without having to ask. He still hums when he’s concentrating. He still leaves all the cupboard doors open like a gremlin lives here. It’s so familiar I almost forget how unfamiliar everything else is.

Chris and Arthur are new. I’ve never lived with them before, and the dynamic is still a little strange. Chris has a habit of narrating his thoughts out loud in the kitchen, and Arthur plays obscure indie music at volumes that feel vaguely confrontational, but they both seem genuinely nice. There’s a friendliness to them that doesn’t feel forced, just unpolished.

We don’t talk much beyond casual hallway chat, but I get the sense they’re good people. I’m still figuring out the rules of this new house: who uses which mug, whether it’s okay to steal someone’s oat milk, how long is too long to leave laundry in the machine. I tread carefully. It’s not mine yet.

I still haven’t unpacked properly.

My large suitcase lies half-open in the corner like it gave up halfway through. Every morning I rummage through it for something vaguely clean and wrinkle-free, and every night I promise myself I’ll deal with it tomorrow. I haven’t even begun to properly make space for myself yet. The best I’ve managed is rearranging a few things, so now I’m wedged between an unused exercise bike and a stack of old cardboard boxes labelled “wires??” in George’s handwriting.

I’ve discovered my cot sags in the middle. not dramatically, just enough to feel slightly tragic. I can’t decide whether to invest in a real bed now or wait until I have a flat of my own. I’ve saved over a hundred listings online, but I just can’t be bothered yet.

The room is not uncomfortable, just temporary. Everything about the space feels borrowed. Like I’m squatting in someone else’s life, waiting to see if I’ll be allowed to stay.

Instead of sorting out the mess of my personal life, I throw myself into work. Jira tickets and Slack threads are less complicated than the awkward limbo I’m in with George. And honestly, they feel like a better use of my energy than trying to figure out why I don’t quite feel like a real person yet.

The team at work are fine, in that aggressively polite British way where you can’t tell if they actually like you or if they’ve just been trained not to sue each other. I learned quickly who hoards the good coffee, who talks through every stand-up, and who has been very quietly dating the guy from DevOps for six months. The intern calls me “Miss Australia” like I’m some sun-kissed coding goddess. One of them asks how many snakes I’ve seen in my life. I say five. I make it sound casual even though it’s closer to zero.

In the evenings, I rewrite documentation just for the illusion of control. I start colour-coding my IDE themes. I spend an absurd amount of time making sure my folder structure is “aesthetically intuitive.” It’s easier to worry about whether my code is legible than to wonder whether George Clarke ever got over whatever it was that stopped him from liking me all those years ago.

Because sometimes I catch him looking at me like nothing’s changed. Like we’re still nineteen and in that stupid flat with the peeling wallpaper and the leaky bathroom and the futon we used to share when people stayed over. But then he blinks and it’s gone, and I’m left wondering if I imagined it.

Or if I just want to.

Life is just a bit weird right now. Not bad, exactly, just strange. It’s like that moment when you’re driving down the highway and suddenly realise: oh god, this is it. This is your actual life. Not a practice run or the bit before the plot kicks in, just the middle of the story, already happening. Emails and meal prep and laundry and pretending to understand council tax. Meanwhile, other people are out there getting engaged, starting companies, running countries. And I’m wondering if I can justify a full tank in a 2001 Toyota Corolla.

God, I miss that car. It wheezed like it had asthma and smelled like spilled iced coffee, but it was mine. Familiar. Predictable. I knew exactly how it handled on a sharp turn.

Here, nothing feels quite nailed down. Like I’m trying on someone else’s routine and hoping no one notices it doesn’t belong to me. I keep thinking real life is about to start any minute now, once I get settled or unpack or buy actual furniture. But this is it. The job, the cot, the too-quiet mornings and my severe lack of friends that I'm not harbouring a deranged crush from. I’m already waist-deep.

I just haven’t figured out how to feel real inside it yet.

xxx

One evening, I’m lying on my cot, doomscrolling through flat listings in Shoreditch. Spoiler: I can’t afford a single one. Cramped studio after overpriced shoebox blurs past my screen. Somewhere in the living room, the boys are talking. Chris’s voice bouncing off the walls, Arthur chuckling, George quieter as always.

I get up, thinking I should try to be social, or at least civil. They’re practically nocturnal, and I’ve barely exchanged full sentences with them. But just as my hand touches the doorknob, I hear my name.

“Y/N’s actually really pretty, isn’t she?” Chris says, like he’s surprised by his own observation.

There’s a pause. Its brief, but loaded. Then George: “Don’t.”

Just that. One syllable, sharp as glass. No laughter. No explanation.

I freeze. A chill curls up the back of my neck. Chris lets out an awkward laugh, mutters something I can’t quite make out, probably a joke, probably nothing. I slip my headphones back in like I didn’t hear a thing. But I did.

And now, I can’t stop replaying it.

The way Chris said it, So offhand, so casual, like he was commenting on the weather. The way George responded, fast and instinctive. One word. Don’t.

My stomach twists in that old, familiar way. What did I expect? A denial? A laugh? Maybe a 'Yeah, she is'? I’m not sure. But I know I wanted something different.

But I know George. He wasn’t being protective. He was being George. Keeping the peace. Not making things weird. He’s always been good at that—drawing clean lines in places where things get messy.

Still… he didn’t disagree.

I pull my blanket up to my chin, stare at the glow of my phone screen. I know better than to read too much into one word.

But I do anyway.

xxx

The party is a last-minute, thrown-together type of thing. George bursts into my room while I’m mid-doom scrolling.

“Come on,” he says, tossing my jacket onto my lap. “We’re touching grass.”

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s ten degrees and I’m in my trackies.”

“Perfect. You’ll fit right in.”

The flat belongs to someone George knows from work.

Ha, “knows from work.” He’s a YouTuber too. I think he has a podcast? Or owns a podcast studio? I’ve honestly given up keeping track of his friends. I have a 9–5. They have brand deals and discuss 'the algorithm'.  Whoever this guy is, he definitely doesn’t have enough cups.

There’s music blasting from a Bluetooth speaker taped to the wall, a weird smell I can’t place (incense? weed? vape juice?), and one of those cursed LED signs that says something like Live Laugh Lager or whatever. I already hate it here.

George disappears to stash his drinks, and I end up perched on a broken stool in the kitchen, clutching a lukewarm cider and wondering if I’m officially boring for not enjoying sticky countertops and people arguing over which club to go to after. I’m contemplating leaving when he walks in.

Will.

I know his name is Will because three people shout it at once “WILL!” like he’s just come back from war or prison or a particularly long bathroom break.

He’s tall, dressed like he didn’t try but still looks like he belongs on the event poster. Black hoodie, denim jacket, messy hair, sharp smile. There’s a confidence to him. No, not confidence. Ease. Like the room bends a little to make space for him.

I clock the accent immediately. Northern. Thick, unapologetic, and halfway through a passionate rant about oat milk being a scam. His voice slices through the noise, equal parts outrage and entertainment.

And then we make eye contact.

Just for a second. But it’s direct, disarming. He smiles. Keeps talking to James? Jacob? Whoever he is looks more arty than the rest. I wonder if he's friends with Arthur.

James-Jacob exits the conversation, and before I’ve even registered that Will is moving, he’s already walking over.

Straight to me.

And for the first time tonight, I forget how sticky the floor is.

“You’re staring,” he says, but there’s a grin behind it. Its teasing, not arrogant.

“You’re loud,” I shoot back, deadpan.

His smile sharpens. “Fair enough. Can’t argue with that.”

He steps closer, offering a quick, almost polite nod. “Hi. I’m Will.”

“Y/N.”

He tilts his head like he’s just solved a puzzle. “Of course you are.”

I blink. “What does that mean?”

He smirks. “Nothing. Just… George mentioned his uni mate was in town. Didn’t think he meant you.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, eyes flicking over me with a grin that’s too knowing. “Dunno. Thought you’d be taller.”

I narrow my eyes. “And I thought people who rant about oat milk would be quieter.”

“Ouch,” he says, hand to heart. “We’re starting off strong, aren’t we?”

I don’t usually like cocky. I actively avoid it. But something about the way he grins, the way he doesn’t flinch when I bite back. It’s disarming. Confusing. He’s not my usual type, but there’s a weird… gravity to him. He makes the whole room feel like background noise.

George reappears, handing me a fresh cider. His eyes flick to Will, then back to me. It’s subtle, but there’s something in it, like he’s clocking the moment, not judging it.

Will picks up on it anyway. “Alright, mate.” His tone’s easy, casual, like they’ve done this a hundred times. I realise they probably have.

“I Didn’t know you were coming,” George says, leaning against the counter. "Good to see ya". He smiles.

“Yeah, wasn’t gonna,” Will says. “But I needed to touch some grass.”

“No way, that’s literally why Y/N's here.” George beams. “She’s been in the flat three weeks and already hates all of us.”

“I don’t hate you,” I say, taking a sip. “I just hate the constant yelling and your collective refusal to do dishes.”

Will laughs. “Sounds about right.”

Then he gestures to me. “She’s not your girlfriend, right? I feel like I would've heard.”

George snorts. “Not even slightly.”

“Cool,” Will says, shooting me a grin. “Would’ve been awkward if I kept talking.”

George raises a brow, still smiling. “When has that ever stopped you?”

Will shrugs, grinning wider. “Fair point.”

It feels a bit strange to be talked about like this, but I choose to ignore it.

George peels off a moment later, off to talk to someone across the kitchen, and I’m left wondering if that was nothing… or something. The exchange felt normal. Friendly. But the timing, plus Will’s question and George’s glance. It all lingers in the air between us.

“Oi, you’re double-fisting now,” Will said, grinning.

I choked on my drink. “What??”

“You’ve got two ciders in your hands.”

“Oh my god,” I laughed. “We say ‘double parked’ back home.”

Will shook his head, smirking. “That’s mental. Double-fisting is proper classic though. Means you’re serious about the party.”

George, overhearing from across the kitchen, called out, “Aye, Y/N's catching up already. Might be our most committed guest yet.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, taking a solid gulp from the half-empty cider.

Will raised his glass. “To double-fisting and proper nights out.”

I raised mine back, feeling the weird pull of fitting into this wild scene, still half confused, half curious.

I end up spending most of the night talking to Chris. He’s hanging out with Arthur, who’s, well… Arthur is smart, that much is obvious, but he's also three beers past the point of functional. He’s swaying slightly, his words getting a little slurred, but he’s still genuinely interested in my work. He asks me questions about programming, about how I got into it, and what languages I like. At one point, he confesses that he dabbled in it back in high school, which surprises me. I didn’t expect someone like him to have any kind of coding knowledge.

But here he is, drunkenly discussing arrays and variable types like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s endearing in a weird way. We keep talking shop, while the others drift in and out of the conversation like a blurry haze. I’m introduced to them all, but honestly, I lose track after the third guy who’s wearing a hoodie with an logo.

The host of the party stops by for a second, patting me on the back like we’re old friends. “You remind me of George,” he says with a wink, and I can't quite tell if he’s joking or serious. I nod, unsure how to take it, but I choose to take it as a compliment. No matter how weird, George is funny and good-looking.

The whole night, Will keeps hovering. Not in a weird way, just… present, popping in and out of the groups Chris and I keep forming. Will is the kind of person who fills up the space without even trying. He keeps throwing out jokes, arguments, ridiculous hot takes about tube lines and the food in London, and at one point, he tries to convince me to watch a Formula One race, despite the fact that I’ve already told him I’m allergic to high-speed sports.

Every time I think he’s about to move on, he swings right back into my orbit with something new, whether it’s an outrageous opinion on pineapple on pizza (pineapple can go on pizza, it goes on burgers back home) or an unsolicited, yet somehow fascinating, debate on why Spotify’s algorithm is “fundamentally flawed.”

And every time, I can’t help but bite back, giving as good as I get. I find myself engaging more than I expected, throwing in my own offbeat commentary, even laughing at things I’d normally find irritating. With him, it’s different. He’s relentless in the most entertaining way.

Meanwhile, George stays on the outskirts of the party, drifting around the edges of the room like he’s trying to blend in without fully participating. It’s familiar in a way that almost comforts me. He’s always nearby, but he's having his own fun, and I guess letting me touch my own grass. I try not to notice the way his eyes keep flicking over to Will every time he laughs, or the way his gaze seems to linger when I laugh with Will.

It’s subtle. Maybe it’s nothing. But I can’t shake the feeling it’s something more.

Eventually, I make my way to the door, my head spinning a little from the mix of cider and strange conversations. I catch George in the hallway, already on his phone, pretending to be ordering an Uber, which is the universal sign that it’s time to go. But just before I walk out, I hear Will's voice behind me.

“Oi,” he calls, his tone light but with that edge that makes my stomach do a little flip. “You’re alright, you know.” He pauses for a beat, considering his next words. “For someone who calls it double parked.”

My brow lifts. “Wow. That’s going straight in my LinkedIn recommendations.”

He laughs. He genuinely laughs like a muppet. Instead of his jaw dropping, his head flings backwards dramatically. I’m not sure why, but hearing him laugh like that feels like an invitation to something.

Something dangerous or something fun I can't tell, but either way, it pulls me in.

Without missing a beat, Will pulls out his phone, flicking through it like he’s already got a plan. There’s a beat where I stand there, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t say anything, he just opens the Instagram search page. His fingers hover over the screen before gliding across. He looks up at me. There’s a challenge in his eyes, something playful but still sharp, like he’s testing me without saying it out loud.

I hesitate for just a second. Then, on instinct, I fill in my details. "Y/F/N.HTML?" he says, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What's that about, then?"

I shrug, trying to play it off. "Oh, I’m a programmer."

Will's grin widens, and I can see him processing that for a moment, letting it sink in. "fuckin' nerd." It’s not unkind. More like a compliment wrapped in sarcasm.

I roll my eyes. "Tell me something I don’t know."

Will gives me a thumbs-up and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, taps ‘follow.’ “I’ll see you around, Y/N."

I try to think of something to quip back, but he's already returned to the party.

As I step outside into the cold night air, the sound of George's voice calling out after me reaches my ears. "You good to go?"

I nod, but my mind is somewhere else entirely. Will seems arrogant and cocky, but his sweet moments are laced in. I can’t decide if I like it or if I should be annoyed.

I try not to let the thought linger too long, but somewhere in the back of my mind, Will’s grin lingers, and I can’t quite shake it off.

Somewhere about three blocks from the flat, I get a DM from Will.

I snort, despite myself, glancing over at George. He’s staring out the window, arms folded, looking like he’s thinking too hard about something. I don’t show him the phone, but I can’t resist. “Will says drop the big brother act.”

George glances at me, a little surprised, then smirks. “Right. Got it. I’ll stop looking out for you... and start letting you make terrible life decisions on your own.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Sounds about right.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. Maybe I’ve been a bit much.” He grins sheepishly. “But you know, I’ve got to make sure no one’s corrupting you. That’s a full-time job.”

I laugh, but there’s a shift in the air. His eyes flick to me, and for a moment, it feels like there’s more behind his smile. Like maybe he's not sure how to let go of the old ways.

Something’s changing, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. But I can’t look away.

[yourfavgaygaijingal]

GALS PET PEEVES 💢

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Also one thing I find annoying is when other gals praise reiwa gyaru and be like “you guys are setting us back in the community” “and the Jp gals accept change and they know it’s the reiwa era” “and you “guys follow rules from 2000-2016” Hate to break it to you But reiwa is boring 🥱.

It’s ok to like it like whatever you like To me what attracted me to gal was how flashy ot was how bold it was The leopard print pieces, The zebra print, The mag scans, The extreme makeup That’s what made me get into gyaru.

And why I prefer the heisei era more because I can tell they are gal because nowadays I feel like you can just put some white under your eye and some puppy liner or do douyin makeup and call it gal. But it doesn’t feel gal to me yknow??? Like it doesn’t feel bold it just feels watered down to me in a sense, But focusing on the heisei era is bringing it back today.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Like in Japan there is a rise in the heisei retro trend, shibuya 109 coming back, angeleek the gyarusa is coming back and they have an instagram account, all because people focused on that more and not the current era

(Here’s the page if ya wanna follow :3)

And I feel like As gals we shouldn’t care about what era it is Like yes I know it is the reiwa era but I want to dress and live like it’s the Heisei era I don’t wanna like water it down just cause it’s modern and it’s the current era Like does that make sense???? Cause sometimes I can’t even tell reiwa gala are gals untill I look at there accounts.

And with the bringing back of the heisei retro era, and angeleek coming back one thing my gal ass HOPES to see is GYARUSAAAASSSS!!!! There aren’t many active gyarusas in Japan from what I know I know some other ones that are active like akipoyo

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

(an isreal gyarusa) but like I’m talking gyarusas with like 100+ members, the fashion exchanges, the matching coords, kuro gals back on the rise, HOPEFULLY old gal brands like d.i.a abd alba Rosa coming back I know Liz Lisa is still around but they changed from gal to jira kei. Abd im not sure about mars im really not sure.

Anyways I hope you enjoyed this yapping session lol didn’t mean to yapping so much I’m very talkative and chatty online but irl I’m super akward lol

[marvelstars]

So I was thinking about a post I saw a while ago and it made me realize that I believe it didn´t really occur to Anakin that Padme was too young as a 14 year old Queen because he was a 9 year old slave and already making adult decisions, like:

Sure, I will risk my life to give you the ship parts you need new friends.

I will sacrifice the pod I built with many sacrifices that I wanted to use to escape with my Mom once I got her and my slave chip out of her body with my self made slave chip detector.

I know exactly how to cheat on my owner, I have know him all my life actually and he loves gambling.

Sebulba, leave Jar Jar alone, you could kill me instead but then you would have to pay for me so go away.

I built a droid to help Mom around the house and I am also looking after grandma Jira here, fixing her things so the heat doesn´t get too much for her.

Do you need the droid army that is invading Naboo stopped? No problem, I will just destroy their main star chip and I didn´t even get out of place as Master Qui-Gon Sir asked me to.

Then Anakin became a padawan and was send to missions in which he had to use his lightsaber to get out of "negotiations"

So of course he defended Padme being a Queen at 14, to him her words about being happy for being relieved of so much responsibility sounded as if she thought she was doing a bad job with her planet, that´s why he told her he heard people were so pleased with her they wanted to keep her more time as their Queen. He thought she was selling herself short.

I believe the whole, "too young to be doing this" only beat Anakin in the face when he was send Ahsoka in the middle of a war zone.

I mean, he called her a "youngling" not even a padawan, he most definitely didn´t want to be training a 14 year old youngling in the middle of a war zone and he only accepted because he saw how sad Ahsoka looked when she thought he didn´t want her.

Ahsoka just had to invoke a little bit of tears and she already had him grapped around her little finger.

Anakin: Sure I am supposed to be your Jedi master and you should call me master but we are in the middle of a war zone, we both could die tomorrow, your situation sucks Snips and you are too young yet to notice it so of course you may call me skyguy to your heart content.

He is actually worse with Luke, honestly, it didn´t matter to him his little boy already destroyed the death star in ANH and his Master was calling for his head because he could become a Jedi and try to kill both of them, to Vader he was just "a boy"

In ESB Vader was at the parenting stage of thinking about Luke like, that´s my baby, nobody can touch him or his friends until I say so ok?

So he can recognize when someone was too young to be send to war, slavery or fight his Sith Master and he was right most of the time, except when it´s about himself and his perfect Queen Padme, they were veteran kids just doing their jobs.

Love him honestly :D

[wisteriagoesvroom]

*gently pokes you with a stick til you write this*

Is there a plot, or just vibes... like what is going on in this universe... okay... *rolls sleeves up* lemme try to headcanon it a little:

Oscar is a rising star in product engineering, and was hired based on a prototype he was developing in his Imperial College dorm room. Barely settled into his new office gig, he is told to present a demo of said product on the mainstage of his tech company employer's next big conference, where they announce their latest product rollouts for the year.

Oscar really hates public speaking, and has never been very good at it. Enter Lando - deputy head of marketing and charmboy extraordinnaire - who is assigned to get him up to scratch.

Other universe details that probably only I care about: Adam Norris is the new CFO who brings his son into the picture. There are definitely two overworked interns on both their teams who have to manage all their weird quirks and Lando's idiosyncratic JIRA board hygiene. Surely there must be an ugly conference t-shirt. No wait– Oscar sleeps with Lando at the conference rehearsal, but the first time is kinda unexpected, and also Oscar spilled red wine on himself the previous night which necessitated him going up to Lando's hotel room for Plot Convenient Reasons (sex). Morning after, Oscar has to borrow one of Lando's t shirts and it ends up being a neon prototype that was manufactured as an error. And Oscar's like "you cannot expect me to walk out like this", and it's like. "Well either that or you walk around the city shirtless sorry mate." (Oscar takes the L, but he really hates green highlighters from that point on and nobody really knows why. Lando thinks it's hilarious and buys him copious amounts of hot chocolate to make up for it even though it was never his fault. He just likes buying hot chocolate for Oscar.)

There is also definitely an icebreaking joint activity that they both do, like indoor rock climbing, in order to get to know each other. Except Lando is like, spectacularly good at it, and Oscar (a) lies about his competency in rock climbing (b) is deathly afraid of heights. But Oscar refuses to be a wimp so doesn't say a single thing until he reaches the top of a really challenging wall and Lando is like: woah you did so amazing! Now let go and come down! and Oscar is like: I can't! Lando: wdym?? Oscar: I hate heights. Like "my sisters used to lure me to the roof with a ladder and then take the ladder away", hate heights. Lando: BRO.....your PRIDE.... (but he's also secretly going insane because Oscar clearly just wanted an excuse to spend the morning with him.)

Their first kiss is after Lando belays Oscar safely to the ground, obviously. Adrenalin, and stuff.

[mariacallous]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ayeforscotland]

I'm not a super dedicated gamer these days, but I loved Kerbal Space Program (a game that was more a labour of love than a commercial project) and was super hyped for the much delayed KSP2. When I saw it was releasing as early access (years late) I worried for its hopes of ever seeing completion and held off buying, now after all the other shananigans the entire team have been let go in yet another mass lay-off in the gaming industry. I feel like, a few notable exceptions aside, the big-budget gaming sector has been failing to deliver real quality games for a long time now, with lower-budget indie games more often coming up with gold from much simpler foundations. It seems almost as though developers are being pushed to shoot for unachievably epic games and releasing buggy messes, or vast but hollow worlds when the publishers get impatient or the money runs out. Is there any grain of truth in my feeling that bankrollers' expectations for games is leading to more games failing to live up to the hype as projects spiral out of control and over budget? Would big studios benefit from learning from indie devs and aiming to really nail down a simpler scope but on a scale beyond what the indies can achieve?

Industry-wise there’s a couple of things at play. And apologies for the length of this.

During the pandemic, there was a shitload of investment into the gaming industry as everyone was at home and many started playing games for the first time, so venture capital firms piled money in.

They were looking for a return on their investment, not really aiming to cultivate long-term studio success.

This puts pressure on the studio to get the game out the door quickly. That month or two of QA before launch just becomes overhead while you have a product that could be selling right now.

Chance to earn even more money for shareholders and execs? Welcome to microtransaction hell.

So that’s one side of it, investors/shareholders/execs forcing decisions that make games worse.

Next bit is partly influenced by the shareholder side of things but also a huge cultural side too. Lots of studios complete a project and then layoff staff because the next game isn’t ready to start being developed yet OR layoff staff because they don’t want to pay them OR staff leave to go and do something else (often due to lack of pay, lack of promotion etc)

And what this leads to is a *massive* corporate knowledge gap. People take their skills and knowledge and create voids. Voids that need to be filled by senior staff, which is why big AAA studios are always hiring seniors, and rarely hiring juniors. So all the seniors job-hop from studio to studio and there’s no new skill set being cultivated by new industry talent.

In my experience, these huge studios are also incredibly siloed. It’s something that impacts most industries, siloed teams lead to sluggish development and decision-making.

I think the games industry walks an incredibly fine line between being a creative endeavour and being a tech business. Process management methodologies honestly seem quite alien to the games industry, most of the time to its detriment.

It honestly wouldn’t be that hard to implement but Production as a discipline within games seems to be relegated to ‘staring at JIRA’ particularly in larger studios.

Could write forever about this to be honest.

Worth saying that indie studios also have their own issues. Almost everything is a scramble, and the search for publisher funding is a nightmare.

[gottagobackintime]

[aorish]

the three types of programmer job posting in 2025:

we need someone with strong problem solving skills and a knowledge of C/C++ Python and Java who enjoy challenging. experience with bash scripts a plus

we need a CI/CD Spring Boot Agile DevOps test engineer with Jira fast-paced weekends start immediately 5 years experience required no degree

we need a react/node.js html/css c# typescript webdev who also knows python oh god why does no one in webdev understand basic data structures

[moose-mousse]

FINALLY got done with the Beginners guide to GIT

So a long time ago I made a poll to help me make a Begginers guide to GIT because a lot of people seem to have trouble with it. https://www.tumblr.com/moose-mousse/722172571753365504/going-to-make-a-getting-started-with-git-post?source=share

And I know for a fact that my University taught it horribly. (Or rather... did not teach it at all)

I REALLY tried making this guide as short as I possibly could. Explaining only what you need to know, while trying to clarify what most people find confusing. But it still is too long for a single post. So, I have split it into 5. The post each links to each other, so you should be able to go back and forth easily.

This guide is going to be pure GIT done via the command line. 2 reasons for this:

1: GIT GUI’s are really handy, but they abstracts away a lot of the newbie help GIT is trying to give you. Bitbucket, Github, Jira, and other services use GIT but usually add extra bits that are specific to them. So to know how they are different, it is smartest to learn pure GIT first. And since they are 99% GIT, you will be able to use them with no/little trouble.

2: Because I use the command line, it is easy to build your own automation tools. Simply have a program write git commands to the shell and/or read outputs from git commands and use them to visualize whatever you want, however you want. That way you can have whatever shiney graphics your heart can code up. All the tools you can find (Like Github desktop or gitk) are simply doing this. (incidentally, if any of you make a pretty visualization of GIT? Show me! I wanna see a dog themed GIT graph! I wanna see pink log outputs! Make it yours!)

Table of content: Part 1: What is GIT? Why should I care?

Part 2: Definitions of terms and concepts

Part 3: How to learn GIT after (or instead of ) this guide.

Part 4: How to use GIT as 1 person

Part 5: How to use GIT as a group.