#Hell yeah we're back for more!

[greenplumbboblover]

Life is Sunniest in Sunset Valley - Chapter 8

Or read it here: Simblr.cc

[queers4years]

Indigenous Hawaiians really had a good system going: wake up reaaally early and do most of the days work while it's cool and by the time the sun was up and it got hot the work was done and you're free to surf and socialize. I wish the white people realized they themselves could work smarter and not harder and get time to relax. Instead of calling Hawaiians lazy (and being genocidal about it)

[britneyshakespeare]

heav'nly donuts doesn't get the same new england icon status as dunkin' donuts and i know why but i don't know why. first of all, it's not like their products are at all inferior. they have a wide variety of coffee and other hot/frozen drink options that regular customers do as a matter of fact go crazy about. their staple breakfast options come to play just as hard as dunks. in fact everything about heav'nly kind of is like dunkin but just trying way harder. and mostly succeeding. their donuts are all much larger than dunkin's. and they're also a new england-based franchise founded in massachusetts, only 25 years younger (dunkin opened in 1950 and heav'nly in 1975—but both of these are significantly younger than my grandparents). but heav'nly, despite its cult status among consumers, despite people KNOWIN what's up and that their products are on par if not superior, remains far less ubiquitous although still definitely not struggling. what is it about the dunkin franchise that allowed it to succeed and grow at an unbelievable rate? to the point of them being national competition to starbucks? how DID it come to be that there's a such a ridiculous density of dunkin donuts shops in the greater boston area? to the point where, if you live in this part of the country, you'll probably have to go out of your way if you prefer to get coffee at a starbucks, or some other franchise, instead? how did america come to run no dundun? and considering that, isn't it amazing that heav'nly has managed to be so strong a franchise in the deep dunkin donuts woods?

[afterlife-2004]

[scabbardsystem]

💓 hearts & stars 💫

[cassatine]

Rhaenyra getting more shit for staying on Dragonstone instead of in King's Landing to play the political game or whatever than Viserys gets for recalling Otto as Hand, thus pretty much handing power to the faction he knows to be his heir's political opponents and metaphorically shooting Rhaenyra in the political kneecaps, is one of the most Takes in a fandom full of Takes

[rusanya-does-edits]

Something weirdly specific for at least some of us, that we've had in mind for awhile; unfortunately this was the closest we could get with a picrew tbh.

× × × || × × × || × × ×

Like, fortunately for us; while we have some things that irk us with this one, but this hits pretty close in a metaphorical sense at least for the people we're thinking of. Unfortunately for us, some of those are more obvious than others so we hesitated on weather we needed to share this or not LOL.

[imagine-nerd]

The fucking disconnect is so real.

[mariyekos]

Imagining a scenario where at some point Dante and Lady get married purely for practical purposes (like if she gets hospitalized so Dante can visit/make some decisions) but Lady ends up dating Trish so Dante's like

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also given that the logic of said superiority authoriority is an entitlement to deny someone's personhood & use them as an object for your purposes, from obviously getting to direct what they must do & can't do, to enjoying whatever gratification from lashing out / demeaning which is also going to serve as an affirming exercise in authority when one can do that from an insulated elevated place....a crucial part of whatever form of this violence, from the most nanoscopic triangle in the sierpiński triangle pyramid scheme hierarchy, to the hypothetical largest (zoom in or out to whatever degree: the same shit also), being that indeed the superior parties need the deserved insulation from any Consequence to exerting their superior status, including indeed from having to witness the consequences For the "inferior" parties, such as whatever externalizations of suffering they recognize as such, which either (a) need to be put away (b) are manipulative performances or otherwise exaggerated (e.g. being a pussy / not even having the sense to realize how little suffering they're Really experiencing) or (c) can be fun to witness if you decide you enjoy that as an affirmation of power as per your ability to completely detach from any avoidance of causing pain, harming for its own sake, b/c you Can

all which is to frame how Interesting it is that after all those moments of going "well, they keep bothering with reaction shots of winston noticeably feeling hurt & expressing it, sometimes also verbally. it's like it could be setting up something" it set up Nothing; while once again just like has been done dozens of times a scene just Ends on winston being rejected &/or hurt, no resolution then, no resolution ever, and in the case of 7x03 was so significant an attack that just like in 4x11 when mafee gets to take out his own Loyalty Insecurity on winston while everyone else hangs around in tacit to overt approval, everyone just leaves the room & we get winston staying behind in the Most distant position aaand scene's over! thread's over! david levien get back here after you Liked that 4x12 livetweet of mine pointing out "so see & winston was right anyways??" like....that is: we are given the Perspective of someone who is also now Leaving winston behind, thus immune to the consequences of however that treatment could actually affect him or how he might struggle to deal with that now (who cares! the answer is: Alone) like Whatever, next time we see him he's completely fine now. and i'm just so happening to think that all the little moments of getting to see winston wither & withdraw & etc in reaction to being shitted on was also us being granted the perspective of Gratification that he's punished for speaking or existing or whatever, without it ever going anywhere or mattering beyond that instant. we too are the ones who surely get to relentlessly bully the autistic person & damn if we don't at least enjoy someone getting to go off the rails restoring their ego by doing absolutely whatever they want to him, which just so happens to be perfectly aligned with getting him Back In Line. pull yourself together winston! the only consequences you're experiencing we wanna deal with are the ones where you give us the algorithm we decided we want, actually. and now let's look across the rest of the season where the consequences for wags for being this way (or anyone else for standing by, ready to benefit, with philip bafflingly declaring as well how actually it was brutal in a good way) is approximately fuckall even as of course nobody's pretending he's one of the personal growth guys out here: rian is though, and didn't have to "grow" out of abusing winston or thinking that was fine & good or that of course she's inherently superior! and in the end we have more affection and interest for the Epic Asshole than their Cringe Targets

[todayisafridaynight]

grabbing rainbow sherbet vodka for the stream because I know it's what ichi would want 🤞

bro grabbing that fucking super mario vodka what the shit 😭

[gibbearish]

like theres not a lot of games im REALLY good at so when there are ones i latch on super hard. and boy have i latched on to this one

[sansxfuckyou]

oh shit pride month soon

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

i watched My Neighbor Totoro for the first time, here's my chronological viewing experience:

woo-hoo! dusty old japanese house with japanese architectural details aplenty

these kids got some ENERGY my goodness

family dynamic's adorable. peak quality dad humor

kids: our house is haunted. parents: that's so cool!

hell yeah, wrinkled old lady rep. we need more friendly old women with potato faces and warts like storybook witches. the backbone of society, these ladies

Plot Summary: Small Child Bothers Local Wildlife

sacred tree sacred tree sacred tree

Introducing Totoro! nobody said this fucker's got TEETH???

Uh-Oh! Inadequate Parental Supervision Detected

(you misplaced your four year old! you're not supposed to do that)

4-year-old: i met a magic forest spirit. dad: oh shit fr?

4-year-old: *angrily hugs sister* missed u bitch

this small child has a smile like a toad. like a really really cute toad. like the cutest toad in all existence. i love her she's perfection please just let this child be happy

rice paddies are so pretty....so back breaking....rice is such a prissy crop

*my crush is stranded in a rainstorm* takethisumbrellait'syoursnowBYE *runs away in panic im so good at flirting*

Giant Chinchilla Learns To Hold Umbrella, Is Fucking Delighted By Experience

take this, it will help you on your quest! *hands u trail mix wrapped in a leaf*

LO-FI HIP HOP STUDY LIST!

crouching down to peer at dirt--A++ top notch foundational childhood experience

mom has a big ass forehead

honey! the chinchillas are performing Rituals in the backyard again

help yeah let's jack and the bean stalk this shit

huh so we're all just climbing aboard the giant chinchilla's tiddies now ok

class trip!

the pure adrenaline of Vegetable Gardening

no! the small child is crying! she is bawling her eyes out. no no no. i can't cope with this. emotionally i cannot cope 🥺🥺🥺

i've only had Mei one hour but if anything happens to her i will raze this earth and everyone on it

please someone make this small child smile again

oh no the tall child is crying too

i can't take this. my heart can't take this.

i need a drink

small child running determined to deliver magic veggies to the hospital. this kid is my hero

she is also unsupervised. so, so unsupervised

babe you are FOUR

godDAMMIT ghibli, you cannot give me watercolor sunsets while a small child is missing. u are killing me. my heart is giving out. this is me, experiencing heart failure.

Totoro to the rescue!

no wait CATBUS to the rescue!

i admit i initially thought the cat was a creep. alice in wonderland prejudiced me. i have revised my notions of smiling cats

i've decided the cat is a metaphor for the magic of a robust public transport system

MEI'S OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and so is mom. she's a lovely lady im sorry for what i said about her forehead. it's a noble forehead.

happy ending YES bitch!!!!!!

ok. ok ok ok. that was magical.

(as a first-time adult viewer i was worried i wouldn't be able to Access the Magic. but i could and i did and it was incredible. that was culture. that was ART. joy distilled into animated form. holy rites of childhood. i understand now. how glorious, this world we grow out of. how full of marvels. i'm going outside to smell grass and sun and get dirt under my fingernails. miraculous.)

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.

[killerpancakeburger]

Thinking about a Reader who ends up having Scary Dog Privileges with Ghost without meaning to. It just happened.

Then they have to deal with the fact that this comes with duties too.

Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, mostly fluff, a bit suggestive, smug!Ghost, smooth!Ghost. 800 words.

When Ghost is reluctant to getting sutured in Medical after accidentally opening his stitches, grumbling he can do it himself, who does the nurse call for? Yeah, you.

She could stand her ground, after all she's used to dealing with big, whiny men, but it's much more fun to knock on your door and smile at your bewildered gaze and gaping mouth when she explains the situation in two sentences.

"Ghost's being difficult, mind taking over?" "I'm sorry, what the hell does this have to do with me?" "C'm'on, everyone on base knows he's got a soft spot for you. Don't you want to make my job easier?"

You roll your eyes and slam your hands on your desk as you get up. Groaning as you walk past her— "I'm doing this for you, nothing else, got it?"

Mumbling to yourself "you've got to be kidding me" as you barge into the sick bay. Ghost is coolly seated at the end of a bed, large as life, casual clothes as black as his mask and— oh. You weren't told the wound was on his thigh— you weren't warned that he didn’t have pants on. You can’t help it, your eyes go down, down, your lingering gaze and your flustered silence forming a confession louder than words.

A noise — a scoff or a grunt, you’re not sure — emanates from him, breaks your trance, makes you look up. The amusement in his gaze tells you he noticed your oggling— of course he did. Nothing gets past the Ghost, and you've been remarkably unsubtle. Despite the mask, you swear you can make out the smug smirk on his lips. His cockiness reignites your irritation. Annoyance making you bolder than you really are, you charge at him, crossing the distance between you two in a stride, stopping close— too close. He doesn't back off.

"What's wrong with you?" you snarl. "Nothin'," he retorts, imperturbable.

It's actually the first time you’re overlooking him. You may be enjoying it a bit too much. Nevermind the fact that you've had to wedge yourself between his parted legs to get there.

You frown, unconvinced by his answer.

“Did Soap contaminate you?”

Bargaining to be cleared out earlier was the Scotsman's trademark.

“Johnny throws a fit cos he hates feeling useless. That's not what I'm doing.”

A smirk stretches your lips.

“Oh, no? I'm sure your reasons are much more noble.”

“Doesn't matter. Got what I wanted anyway.”

He's way too self-satisfied for a man in his underwear.

You throw an unequivocal look in the direction of his injury.

“What you wanted? A still open wound?”

“You.”

He replied without missing a beat, as confident as usual. It is both alluring and aggravating.

“And your idea of wooing me is making me upset?”

You don't add “because if it is, that's really fucking stupid” out loud, but you’re sure he got the message through your tone.

“Nah. But you're more honest when you’re angry. Gutsier.”

You only realize he slipped his index and middle fingers in your trouser loops when he sharply tugs at them. Off balance, you steady yourself by catching his shoulders.

Taking advantage of the strip of bare skin between your shirt and bottoms, the pads of his thumbs idly stroke your hip bones. The contact sends electricity through you, shivers of pleasure running down your sides.

“Ghost,” you start, severe, trying not to let the effect his touch has on you show in your voice.

“Simon,” he counters, surly. “Told ya it's Simon when we're alone, didn't I?”

He did, but you didn’t think he was serious. If that's what it takes to get him to listen… you’ll play by his rules.

“Simon. What's the rest of your brilliant plan? I'm here, but I can’t stitch you up.”

“How ‘bout a deal. I'll stop resisting… for a price.”

You raise an amused eyebrow.

“What kind of price?”

“A kiss.”

You snort. You didn’t believe him capable of something so… puerile.

“With the mask on?”

He doesn't move a muscle to get rid of it.

“Take it off.”

You usually wouldn’t obey what sounds like an order so easily, but it's the first time you get to touch the skull. Slipping two fingers between skin and cloth, you slowly roll up the mask all the way under his nose.

You gently trace the scars surrounding his lips. Then, the second you feel him relax, grip on your hips slackening and intensity of his gaze waning, you grab the bottom of his mask and drag it back down vigorously, making the holes for the eyes land way too low for him to see anything.

“If you thought you'd get a reward for acting out, you've got another think coming.”