#Unfriendly Countries

[mapsontheweb]

Unfriendly countries according to Russia vs countries where you can drink tap water.

via @spartakhero

[politicoscope]

Here's British Overseas Territories in Putin Unfriendly List

Here’s British Overseas Territories in Putin Unfriendly List

The Russian government has added 11 British Overseas Territories to its unfriendly countries list, the Russian Cabinet’s website said on Sunday. Eleven more British Overseas Territories have been added to the list [of territories] that supported the sanctions imposed by the UK on Russia. These are: Bermuda British Antarctic Territory British Indian Ocean Territory Cayman Islands Falkland…

[rejectshumanity]

his first order of business upon achieving world domination? abolish daylight savings time once and for all.

[fure-dcmk]

Do you actually sell those Gosho boys stickers? Because I'd buy about 10 of them ���

No kidding so cute

thank you for the interest 🥺

for the moment no,

but i do plan to open international shop for a limited time when i do get my DCMK doujinshi and a few more indulgent dcmk merch made ♥️

do note im from malaysia which can have some crazy shipping fees, (for example: shipping to US cost a minimum of 20 dollar orz)

if you are malaysian you can get my currently available dcmk fanmerch on shopee here

[kabbalicgay]

Jesus christ goyim are braindead I just saw some cunt - word for word - saying "the Jews are talking about Egypt, they MUST BE planning on invading there to!!!!!!!!!!" like cunt. It's Pesach in a fucking week. Y'know. The holiday about the Jewish exodus from Egypt. As written in the Tanakh. The very well-known story that most people - Jew or goy - know about. You useless fucking moron.

[littledeludeddupes]

so transfixed by that map like

armenia: 👍

palestine: 👍

moldova: 👍

puerto rico: that seems too weird we have questions

[fans4wga]

SAG-AFTRA president Fran Drescher's strike announcement speech

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Thank you. Thank you everyone for coming to this press conference today. It's really important that this negotiation be covered because the eyes of the world and particularly the eyes of labor are upon us. What happens here is important, because what's happening to us is happening across all fields of labor. By means of when employers make Wall Street and greed their priority and they forget about the essential contributors that make the machine run. We have a problem. And we are experiencing that right at this moment. This is a very seminal hour for us.

I went in, in earnest, thinking that we would be able to avert a strike. The gravity of this move is not lost on me, or our negotiating committee, or our board members, who have voted unanimously to proceed with a strike.

It's a very serious thing that impacts thousands if not millions of people, all across this country and around the world. Not only members of this union, but people who work in other industries that service the people that work in this industry. And so it came with great sadness that we came to this crossroads, but we had no choice. We are the victims here; we are being victimized by a very greedy entity.

I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with, are treating us. I cannot believe it, quite frankly. How far apart we are on so many things. How they plead poverty, that they are losing money left and right while giving hundreds of millions of dollars to their CEOs. It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment.

We stand in solidarity, in unprecedented unity. Our union and our sister unions and the unions around the world are standing by us, as well as other labor unions. Because at some point the jig is up. You cannot keep being dwindled and marginalized and disrespected and dishonored. The entire business model has been changed. By streaming, digital, AI. This is a moment of history that is a moment of truth. If we don't stand tall right now, we are all going to be in trouble. We are all going to be in jeopardy of being replaced by machines and big business who cares more about Wall Street than you and your family.

Most of Americans don't have more than $500 in an emergency. This is a very big deal, and it weighed heavy on us. But at some point, you have to say no. We’re not going to take this anymore. You people are crazy. What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Privately they all say we’re the center of the wheel. Everybody else tinkers around our artistry, but actions speak louder than words. And there was nothing there. It was insulting.

So we came together in strength and solidarity and unity with the largest strike authorization vote in our union's history. And we made the hard decision that we tell you, as we stand before you today. This is major. It's really serious and it is going to impact every single person that is in labor. We are fortunate enough to be in a country right now that happens to be labor friendly. And yet, we are facing opposition that was so labor unfriendly. So tone deaf to what we are saying. You cannot change the business model as much as it has changed and not expect the contract to change too.

We are not going to keep doing incremental changes on a contract that no longer honors what is happening right now with this business model that was foisted upon us. What are we doing? Moving around furniture on the titanic? It's crazy.

So the jig is up, AMPTP. We stand tall. You have to wake up and smell the coffee. We are labor and we stand tall and we demand respect. And to be honored for our contribution. You share the wealth because you cannot exist without us. Thank you.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Tourist/On Visa Reader thinking it's part of the culture for them to be touchy because of König

You don't understand why people always say that Austrians are unfriendly - you met this funny, but a bit weird Austrian guy, and he is so touchy and active towards you, you'd think he is Italian or something! He was a bit quiet at first, when you met at some pub at Vienna - you wanted to go where locals go, having no desire to be like a normal, obnoxious tourist - you're going to the weird places, rare places, to something that you never seen on social media before. The guy has funny English - a bit of an accent makes it sound higher than normal, that boyish tone as he asks what you're doing here. He has a hand on your thigh almost immediately - it comes naturally, even the way he fights with the end of your shirt feels...normal. He has big hands, and you're a bit drunk and a bit of a sucker for hands like this, so you allow him to put them here. He says it's a cultural thing - something from the culture of the Salzburg mountains and how close people are to each other. It doesn't sound quite right, but you're too drunk on culture to care. He talks about his country and his job - something like a soldier, he says, and you salute him a bit sluggishly. He gently wraps his fingers around yours to make you salute properly - and you almost fall into his lap because of how careful he is. He handles you like fine china, like a really precious piece of equipment, and you kinda like it. He feels a bit awkward, still; sometimes, he would squeeze your leg a bit too tight and only let go when you whimper - you think he might be nervous about the whole changing into a different language thing. He asks where you're staying, and you tell him about a bit shitty hostel you got a room in - because you wanted to live like a local without being harassed by creepy Airbnb hosts. He asks if you want him to drive you to it - it's pretty late, and you don't really know the transport system yet. You thought he was too drunk to drive, but he didn't touch a single alcohol drop whole evening - he was just ordering you drinks, from beer to heavy liquor, constantly talking about how you have to try it if you really want to check out the culture. You want to trust him - so you smile at him as he pays for your tab and drives you. You don't recognize the area, but it's because you're a tourist, the first time in the city - he probably knows the roads far better. When you realise it's not even remotely close to your hostel, he is already dragging you in. It must be a cultural thing, too.

[makingqueerhistory]

how do you even go about finding queer friendly libraries or queer owned bookstores?

This is a complicated question depending on where you live. I wish I had a handy-dandy list for you, but unfortunately I don't. But here is my experience, which is largely informed by a lot of privilege.

A great way to see what your library is open to is visiting your library, look at their displays (especially around pride month) and see if there are any queer books dotted in there. If there aren't that doesn't necessarily mean that the librarians themselves are unfriendly to the idea. It might be in accordance to local regulations.

But one big thing you can do to effect how queer friendly your local library is use it. Give them data that they can point to and show their board to say that queer books are in demand.

That can look as obvious as requesting books or as subtle as picking up queer or queer adjacent books and putting them on the carts to show that someone was looking at them.

I don't want to assume your experience or your country of origin, but if you are going to a larger city, you should be able to use a search engine to look up if there are any queer specific bookstores there.

Otherwise you can also contact local queer orgs, and see if they have a library themselves, because some do! Again this varies greatly depending on where you live.

That being said, libraries in my experience give so much room for advocacy. There is a reason I talk so often about requesting queer books, and checking them out from libraries. Honestly libraries are one of the best places to make big waves with small actions.

[mapsontheweb]

Russia's unfriendly countries list in 2023

[mattslolita]

— 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑺𝑳𝑶𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑨 💌 .

"𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏' 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊'𝒎 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏' 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒄𝒌,

💌 hi angels, i'm kiwi ! i'm eighteen, bisexual, and i'm a black writer.

💌 i'm a certified chris girl, drew starkey's wife, i also write on wattpad sometimes ( link at the bottom! ), and i love music with my entire being. i'm a west coast girly from cali, but i wanna go to different countries so bad.

— 𝑭𝑨𝑽𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 💌 .

my best friends 💌 : @luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @guccifrog @thenickgirl @bernardsbendystraws !

music 💌 : michael jackson, sza, dominic fike, latto ( if u can't tell ), the neighborhood, billie eilish, nessa barrett, lana del rey, mitski, bikini kill, halsey, marina, megan thee stallion, city girls, rihanna, migos, eminem, doja cat, fleetwood mac, taylor swift & more !

movies 💌 : the fault in our stars, scream franchise, the perks of being a wallflower, love simon, friday the 13th, carrie, halloween, the craft, it 2017, jeepers creepers, 13 going on 30, fast & furious, freddy vs. jason, mean girls, harry potter franchise, the maze runner & more !

tv shows 💌 : cobra kai, outer banks, heartbreak high, sex education, stranger things, never have i ever, on my block, ginny & georgia, heartstopper, the vampire diaries, & more !

celebs / influencers 💌 : sturniolo triplets, vereena sayed, deb smikle, quenlin blackwell, benoftheweek, johnnie guilbert, jake webber, vinnie hacker, drew starkey, why don't we, chase keith, ariana greenblatt, fannita, xochitl gomez, larray, renee rapp, sam & colby, beabadobee, nailea devora, & more !

— 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑻 𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑬 💌 .

racism, rude behavior, kink shaming ( unless its shit or piss ), unfriendly remarks or comments. & IF YOU DO GOT SHIT TO SAY HOP OFF ANON & SAY IT WITH YO CHEST !

— 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑰 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳 / 𝑾𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬 💌 .

will 💌 : fluff, angst, smut !

won't 💌 : piss kinks, shit kinks, incest, eating somebody ass, anal cause it freaks me out ( if you like it, you do you, but i'm not gon write it ! ), threesomes UNLESS you're requesting where they strictly interact with the reader ( y/n ).

always remember you're so loved & important, & you matter my loves. i hope we can be friends & you enjoy my shit !💌

masterlist 💌!

taglist 💌!

fav fics 💌!

wattpad 💌!

face reveal 💌 !

my socials 💌 !

emoji anon list 💌 !

c.ai 💌 !

mattslolita on ig 💌 !

40-𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌."

— 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑺𝑳𝑶𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑨 𝑺𝑰𝑮𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑶𝑭𝑭 !💌

[sansaorgana]

I had an idea earlier about buck x reader, where after buck and the other 2 escaped and left bucky behind in part 9, they stumble upon a house near the forest (after the german kid soliders attacked them).

The reader lives there and she basically helps them hiding for a bit and also returning to the english base. She is against the war (which is the reason she helps them) and maybe a little angst where buck needs to protect her at the base bc she is still a german citizen.

What do you think?

hi! thank you for your request! 💞 honestly, I think it's the first 100% angst piece I have written for Buck because even the ones with sad events that I have posted so far had happy endings... but not this one 😅 since I have already written a similar fic and didn't want to repeat the same ending... I couldn't think of anything else how they could have their happily ever after 😪 I hope you can forgive me 💔

I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻

In the heart of the enemy’s territory, he felt like a chased wild animal. Even though he was still human enough not to pull a trigger at a brainwashed German kid, Buck Cleven felt like a prey with nothing but survival on his mind. The forest was dark, muddy and unfriendly. A never ending maze with predators hiding all around. A thought of his dead friend and a thought of Bucky left behind were what kept him sane. The sun was going down slowly and he had no idea where to go. His other friend, Bill, was right behind him.

“Buck,” he hissed and waved his hand to make them both freeze in place. “There’s a house,” he pointed at the dark and old building by the country road behind the trees. “We’re close to town.”

“The lights are off. Maybe it’s inhabited,” Buck pointed out. “If it’s the case, we can find some supplies there.”

“Shall I go and check?” Bill asked.

“No, I will go,” Buck nodded and clutched on the gun in his hand hidden under the coat.

He walked carefully and slowly, making sure not to make too much noise, with his back hunched and breath steady. His blue eyes scanned the garden behind the house. It had herbs growing there but it was messy and the windows were dirty. Everything looked as if it was abandoned.

Encouraged by the looks of it, Buck walked to the front of the house and tried to push the door open but they were locked. However, the door was wooden and old, all it took was another, stronger push to open them wide with a loud squeak that made him wince.

He waited for a while to make sure there were no footsteps approaching him but when he heard nothing but silence, he entered the house and walked around curiously as the last rays of the sun going down lit the walls and the pictures hung on them. There were mostly family portraits and religious images – everything cosy and very cottage-like. There was only one portrait of a young soldier in a Wehrmacht uniform but his face was so friendly and sad that Buck didn’t even feel any hatred looking at it.

Focused on the picture, he lost his focus for a while. And then he heard a small noise and turned around with widened eyes as he spotted a young, scared woman in the corner of the room. She had a gun, too. Her hands were shaking and her pupils were huge out of fear but she was pointing the gun at him. He didn’t know if he should raise his hands and give up or point the gun at her in return – it was very doubtful she would actually pull the trigger.

He trusted no one. When he took a small step ahead to test her, she startled but she didn’t unload the pistol. So he pointed his own weapon at her and in that moment she dropped her gun and lifted her hands up while sobbing.

“P-Please, no,” she pleaded in English. “Please, don’t kill me,” her whispers were broken and shaky and Buck felt bad for her. Did she live in that house? 

“Do you live here alone?” He asked, trying not to sound too nice. She nodded. “How so?”

“I lived here with my brother and my papa,” she explained and pointed her finger at the portrait on the wall carefully. “They took my brother away. In the beginning of the war. He didn’t come back. My papa, he was old now. But they took him too a few weeks ago. Because they need more men,” she was looking for the right words with her limited vocabulary.

“How do you know English?” Buck raised an eyebrow at her.

“Papa taught us. He was a soldier in the last war. He met the English and the Americans. He was a captive,” she explained and sniffled her tears. “Please, don’t kill me,” she begged once more and Buck felt stupid for still pointing his gun at her. He lowered his hand and she sighed out of relief.

“Do you need help?” He asked. Something about her and the state of this house made him forget about his own tragic situation at the moment. She was a young woman left alone in the middle of nowhere in a country that was on the verge of losing the war. It was not safe for her and she looked weakened as if she had not had any proper meal in a long while.

“Do you?” She asked.

“Me and my friend… He’s inside the forest… We ran away from the camp, too. We are American pilots. We need to get to the American soldiers. Do you know where we can find them?” Buck asked.

“They are in town,” the girl nodded. “I can take you to them tomorrow,” she offered.

“Why not now?”

“Because it’s dark already. And you need rest,” she pointed out. Buck squinted his eyes at her. “I don’t have a phone here. And German police are not here anymore. You are safe,” she assured him. “Tell your friend to come here,” the girl crouched down and picked up her gun again. Buck clutched on his but she hid hers into the pocket of her patched dress. “It’s not loaded,” she revealed to him with a sad smile. “I lost all my bullets two weeks ago when a few strange men came here and I had to scare them off.”

Buck nodded and slowly walked out of the house. He still was not sure if she was trustworthy but he craved nothing but rest. He came back for Bill and told him about the situation they had found themselves in.

“I’m not sure, Buck,” he shook his head. “Listen, what if I go there and scare her, steal some food and we run to that town on our own?” He proposed.

Buck understood where his friend was coming from. And he did not judge him. However, he did not agree to his plan.

“No,” he only said. “It’s just a girl.”

“They’re all just girls and boys. Like the kids back there in the forest,” Bill reminded him.

“I know. But she’s not like them.”

“How do you know that?” Bill requested an explanation.

“I just know,” was all Buck could say as he nodded at his friend to follow him.

Reluctantly, Bill went to the house after Buck. The girl was sitting by the round kitchen table and lighting a few candles. She looked up, giving them a doe-eyed look.

“I don’t have electricity here anymore,” she confessed. “But the candles are fine,” she added. “Here, I collected some of my brother’s and papa’s clothes for you to change. When I take you to town tomorrow, I don’t want anyone to know who you are. In the forest… There are a lot of people you can’t trust,” she explained.

“And you?” Bill asked, still not convinced. “Why can we trust you?”

“You have to,” she looked at him and then she turned around to point at the kitchen cabinet. “I don’t have much food left. And the fridge doesn’t work without electricity. I have some cans and a few wild berries I picked in the forest. Some cheese they gave me in town out of mercy.”

“We don’t want to eat your food,” Buck assured her. “Only a little bit.”

“I’m hungry,” Bill added and Buck shot him an unpleasant glance.

“So is she. And the food is hers. She doesn’t have to help us, you know?”

Bill went silent and took a pile of clothes to the living room where he began to change. Buck was left alone with the girl in the kitchen. She was looking down nervously, focusing on his hands to avoid his eyes.

“And what is your name?” He asked her out of courtesy.

“It’s (Y/N),” she whispered. “And yours?”

“I’m Major Gale Cleven,” he reached his hand out and she hesitantly shook it. She also dared to look up and meet his gaze. Buck felt his heart skipping a beat at the sight of how sad and broken those young eyes were.

Back where he was from, young girls were not affected by the war like this. Sure, they were worried about their husbands, fathers and brothers. But they were still drinking coke, danced at the parties, whined at the shortage of nylon and drew the lines on their calves to imitate the tights. They were slowly getting used to wearing jeans as they overtook the factories, they were poster girls and had their hair done up in victory rolls. They were marking the letters with red and pink lipsticks and perfumes. And this young girl in front of him already had the eyes of a very old and wise woman. It shouldn’t be like this.

“Major Gale Cleven,” she repeated. “Sounds like from a movie.”

He was just Buck. Nothing special at all. He was not even from Hollywood or New York. But to her he was already unrealistic enough. She batted her eyelashes and looked away, shyly.

“Not really,” Buck tried to convince her and she gave him a sad smile.

Bill came back in new clothes. It was Buck’s turn now but he was afraid of leaving (Y/N) alone with his friend, so he kept staring at them awkwardly.

“Go,” Bill rolled his eyes. “I won’t hurt her,” he promised.

So Buck grabbed a pile of clothes preparead for him and went to the living room to change as fast as possible. When he came back to the kitchen, Bill was already eating some canned food with a slice of cheese and a few wild berries. A similar meal was waiting for Buck, too. (Y/N) was sitting by the table but she had no food in front of her.

“And you?” He asked her as he sat down.

“I already ate,” she told him but he had a feeling she lied so he pretended to be full already after eating a half of the plate. He offered her the rest and she eagerly took it from him as her eyes sparkled. It was probably her first “proper” meal on that day.

After they ate, (Y/N) showed them to their rooms. One belonged to her father and it was downstairs. Upstairs there were two tiny bedrooms. One was hers and one was her brother’s. She wanted Buck to sleep in it. She didn’t have to say it out loud but he knew that she trusted him more than she trusted his friend. Bill was not complaining because the room downstairs was bigger and had a nicer bed.

When Bill was already in the bedroom given to him, (Y/N) was helping Buck to put the sheets on. He was insisting there was no need but she tried her best to be a good host even in such gruesome circumstances.

“When I do this… It’s a bit like… It’s still normal, you know?” She tried to explain the best she could. He nodded at her. He understood. “There you go,” she fixed the sheets for the last time and looked down proudly at the made up bed.

“Thank you,” Buck nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked up at the poster on her brother’s wall. It was very old and the colours were faded away now but he could recognise it. It was a movie poster of Charlie Chaplin’s movie City Lights.

“My brother liked Charlie Chaplin,” (Y/N) smiled. “And the films. Especially American ones. He didn’t get to see many but he liked the posters,” she explained. “When he was able to see a film, he would come back home and tell me everything about it.”

“I hope he’s alright,” Buck tried to cheer her up.

“He died,” she explained and he felt a stinging pain in his heart.

“You only said he hadn’t come back…”

“They sent us a medal and all. He’s dead,” she explained. “But papa threw the medal away. It’s in the river now.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t like Hitler. And my brother didn’t like him either,” she nodded. “I wish he was here, my brother. He would like you,” she added before finally approaching the door to leave him alone for the night. “Good night,” she walked away and closed the door quietly.

Buck was exhausted but he couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. What would happen tomorrow? She would take them to town, drop them off with the Americans and then what? She would just go back here? To that awful house in the middle of nowhere where she was starving and not safe? He hated to even think of such a possibility.

The walk to town was stressful and everyone kept giving them funny and suspicious looks. However, (Y/N)’s poker face and determination managed to take them to the town centre safely. It looked awful and empty – like a ghost town. She pointed at one of the soldiers patrolling the street and told them he was an American.

“Go to him,” she only said and turned around to walk away but Buck grabbed her by the sleeve of her coat and Bill hissed at him. Buck didn’t listen to that.

“What about you?” Buck asked her and her eyes widened.

“What do you mean? I don’t want him to see me,” she explained.

“You’re just going back home now?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“No,” Buck shook his head. “You’re coming with us.”

“What are you doing, Gale?” Bill asked, irritated.

“She deserves a warm meal at least,” Buck insisted and kept a tight grip on (Y/N)’s sleeve as they all approached the suspicious soldier.

They lifted their hands up and explained who they were. Their accents and believable numbers of their units made the patrolling soldier less hostile. But then he laid his eyes on the girl.

“And her?” He asked.

“She’s with us. She helped us,” Buck told him.

“I know her. She lives in this town,” the soldier squinted his eyes at (Y/N) and she took a deep breath in. “She’s German.”

“Yes, she helped us last night. We wouldn’t be here if it was not for her,” Buck repeated. “Listen, I just want her to eat something warm, alright?”

The soldier called for a few other men who came quickly after and had a short and quiet discussion. Eventually they nodded their heads at them and led them inside of a building full of soldiers. They all looked up curiously and suspiciously.

Bill left Buck’s side quickly to talk to the men stationed there. But Buck didn’t leave (Y/N)’s side as he felt he had to look after her in this place. They were given a proper, warm meal and they sat by the table in the corner. She was eating fast and with shaky hands like a starving child given food after a long while. Buck’s heart broke and he reached his hand out to hold one of her cold ones. She looked up, scared, and he smiled softly.

“Slow down,” he only whispered.

“The women here are nothing special,” one of the men sitting by the table nearby commented. “You should have seen the French ones,” he whistled.

Buck didn’t react to that as his jaw clenched. (Y/N) ignored that comment, too, but her eyes were saddened.

When she was done with her meal, Buck approached the man in charge of the unit and asked if they could give her a few cans of food and some other supplies. The man did not want to agree.

“We’re short on them ourselves, Major Cleven,” he explained.

“Yes, sir, I understand, sir. But she lives alone in the middle of nowhere. Her brother is dead, her father most likely, too. She helped us. She’s a good woman, sir,” Buck tried to convince him.

“There is no doubt about that, son. I’m sorry. She’s not the first and not the last good woman suffering in this war.”

Buck felt defeated and helpless when he approached (Y/N) who was already preparing to leave.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t convince him to give you supplies,” he admitted, ashamed of himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she tried to assure him and squeezed his arm. “You’re a good man,” she added. “Thank you for the meal… And the kindness.”

“I should be the one thanking you more,” he couldn’t help himself and he fixed her ruffled hair. Everything about her was screaming inside of him to help her, to take care of her. But he couldn’t and it was killing him. “I will never forget you, German girl.”

“And I will never forget you, Major Cleven,” she smiled and he could only watch her walk away, approaching the small road leading back to the forest.

If Bill hadn’t been there with him, he would have started thinking that she was nothing but a forest fairy he had imagined. After all he was in a land of fairytales.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[moonlightpeddler]

Hiatus

The game is on indefinite hiatus.

Demo

[Current word count without code: 11465 with two branches]

Life is unpredictable.

You have just been to your first party, with hope for a different, better, and more social future, but instead of waking up with a hangover, you wake up 13 months of coma later, severely ill and with no chance to build the life you wanted to live.

Confined at home, confined to the night by your medication, deprived of outside contact to keep stress away from you, and with food that tastes like iron, all you have is your loving family and the small village they have moved to during your long sleep.

The house is old, dilapidated, the neighbours unfriendly and distant, looking at you with strange eyes, whispering whenever you see them, treating you like your illness is contagious.

But why has your family never taken you to the hospital for a checkup? Since when do hospital doctors make frequent home visits, and only when their patient isn’t conscious?

What would happen if you open the curtains they tell you to keep closed?

The game is intended for a mature audience.

Blood

Violence

Self-harm (for a reason)

Murder

Assault

Brainwashing

Dysfunctional relationships

Co-dependency

Death

And many more.

Depending on the route you take, Cailean, your character, can not be said to be an innocent or good person, please make sure that you are okay with playing a non-human MC who might act accordingly.

Mending Yesterday pairs folk believes, old elements, and lore from different media, with Vampyr lifestyle to create a modern portrayal of vampires that retains the classic feel yet gives it a more down-to-earth presentation.

You take the place of an established character and turn the tale into your very own, form the adventure and how the protagonist faces his new reality.

Will you change Cailean’s behaviour over the course of the story, develop a new personality for your new life, or will you cling to your old self despite the consequences it could have?

Will you keep to yourself and your loved ones, build something new to spend your long life, or get involved in a struggle that isn’t yours? How will others see you, who are your friends and foes? Do you stick to those who are seemingly safe, or will you place your own judgement?

The game doesn’t give you an overpowered protagonist, you aren’t the chosen one, won’t save the world or change it in any meaningful way.

You are just a 19-year-old young man being in the wrong place at the wrong time, all you can do is live your own life that, in the grand scheme of eternity, is nothing but a fleeting picture.

Taking place in a fictional village in Ireland, the game takes a step away from the Urban-Vampire trope and focuses on dynamics commonly found in, very, rural places.

While I have abstained from using phonetics to make it easier for people not familiar with the country, selected sayings and use of words have been kept to preserve the feeling.

Mending Yesterday is most and foremost a horror-drama, character-driven and story-heavy, not a dating game. The only romantic candidate (male) is a central character and the relationship with him greatly influences the plot instead of being flavour or a sidenote; you can stay distant, friendly, close or even loving, all four options significantly shape your personal story.

Being a family-person, you will have to keep an eye on your parents and brother, how you react to the changes in your life, respond to situations, and how you treat them has a direct impact on how your adventure will go.

A character and relationship focused narrative requires you to think twice about how you interact with others, pay attention not only to yourself but those you meet, decide wisely about how to treat them and with whom you want to be close with.

There are relationship-stats you can and should check regularly, for they keep track not only of your bonds but could give you valuable information, yet they won’t ever tell you clearly what they mean.

Just like in real life, people aren’t open books.

Every choice you have to make is meaningful, it either changes or determines something important; you won’t be continuously prompted to make decisions. The game doesn’t bother with flavour.

Routes are roughly equally long, with several endings dedicated players can try to find.

Prologue

Cailean Morrison, whose place you take, is a 19-year-old geriatric-psychology freshman. Calm, quiet, and slightly distant, he was never good at making connections and even worse at maintaining them. He loves his family above all else, has a good heart, and is very fond of older folks.

James Morrison, Cailean’s father, 46 years old, family lawyer. He’s a sensible, somewhat emotional person, bad at dealing with negative experiences, and generally a kind soul.

Aileen Morrison, Cailean’s mother, 44 years old, elementary school teacher. While she loves her family and students, she can be very strict and vengeful, knows how to stay calm in difficult situations, and often keeps her emotions to herself.

Alfred Morrison, Cailean’s brother, 24 years old, investment banker. Although he was wild in his youth, he’s hardworking and cunning, and while usually perceived as friendly, he has well-hidden sharp edges and a ruthless nature.

Choices will determine which talent you are proficient in, while some increases might be obvious, others are hidden behind story-progression.

You can’t fail skill-checks, instead they will change the story depending either on which talent you are most versed in, or if you are generally lacking - and they might have an impact on how other characters feel about you.

The game is in active development. Planed additions include more visual elements, incidental music, and a compendium that tracks information the player has found (coming in the Chapter 1 update). As a solo dev who does everything by himself, music and visuals are not my priority and will be included only in major updates.

[elbiotipo]

I have a theory, and this is based more on a hunch and my understanding of history because I would love to see it supported by data and more analysis, that the United States not only acted against Latin America for its natural resources and to keep hegemony, but also to sink future competition.

After World War II, the major industrial centers of the world were completely destroyed... EXCEPT for the United States AND Latin America. Latin America, or at least in the case of Argentina, was always in a conflict between the landowner classes who wanted to keep the agrarian neo-feudal export economy inherited from colonial times and the interests who wanted to industrialize their country and wanted political, social and economic progress. Being untouched by the global conflict, this was the prime moment for Latin American nations to begin industrialization.

Argentina and Chile, with relatively developed educational systems and increasingly especialized industries, could have grown to the equivalents of Italy or even Japan. Mexico could have also developed its industry, it is, in fact, one of the main manufacturers right now. And in particular Brazil, with a huge population, natural resources and emerging industry, would have emerged not only as a peer but as an outright rival to the United States.

This was unacceptable. So the interventions did not only had the intention of keeping US influence, but actually to destroying Latin American development in a key point so that the United States would keep its hegemony. I don't think it was a coordinated thought, I don't think Truman or Einsenhower said "GO SINK LATIN AMERICA", but I do believe this was part of the intention; not only to keep hegemony but also to keep possibly 'unfriendly' economies from developing.

Perón knew this, which was why he insisted in the nationalization and development of industry and the union of Latin America in his thought. I believe many other marxists and peronist and peronarxists (you know how it is with Argentina) here and in the rest of Latin America have written about this. I have to read more when I get the time.

[villainofmyownstory]

Three copies and some signatures

Simon/Reader/(Johnny)

I don't know I don't have an idea for a title, so I wrote anything. I know some people are waiting for the next part of Day Zero, I'm slowly writing the next chapter but need more time, but don't worry I didn't abandon it! I was motivated to write this thing by anon's shitty ask to @/rememberwren about “too many fics about Ghoap” lmao . So I also wrote something about Ghoap. Because WHY NOT? Aaaaand if you don't know Wren's wonderful work leave everything and go and read it -> HERE <3

I would like to write the next parts, but I can't promise anything.

tags: angst, hurt no comfort

don't know how to tag :< let me know what to add

______________________________________________________________

Of course it had to end this way.

It was more than certain that you would end up in this place eventually. With sweaty hands and a heart that was beating too fast and heavy. Your heart rate increased and your breathing quickened. Drops of sweat appeared every now and then on your heated forehead and you tried again and again to wipe them off. To dry your shiny skin at least for a while. At least look a little presentable.

The crumpled white shirt no longer looked like the one you had ironed for over an hour. Now crumpled and stained, it carelessly hugged your curvy body.

The chair creaked with your every move. Nervously every now and then you change positions as if at least the comfort of sitting would improve your situation.

More minutes pass and the door in front of you is still closed. The paint on them is coming off in some places, revealing the banal light-colored plywood. The entire anturage of this building cries out for renovation.

Despite the well-paid work of the people who work here, the base looks as if its glory years are long behind it and there are no funds to even refresh the walls. It's as if for at least 20 years no one has noticed the cracked walls, the paint falling off or the crooked fine wooden chairs.

Maybe it's just appearances.

You shift in your seat again. The creak of the wooden chair echoes through the empty and cold corridor. Despite the early hour of the day and the sun outside the windows, everything inside seems harsh and unfriendly. To your relief there are not many windows so the prevailing semi-darkness makes you feel marginally more at ease. At least a little anonymity. Maybe the small number of people who passed you walking through the corridor with a quick step won't remember you and when you leave these walls after all, no one will ever shout after you on the street. They won't associate you with this place. With him.

Only when that happens. When this hell will finally come to an end. How long will it be when you are free again? Because every doorbell ringing, every unfamiliar number on screen or finally an unfamiliar customer at work looking at you for too long. It won't all cause that nervousness, that cursed lump in your throat and more gray hairs on your head. Every fucking minute spent in fear.

Someone will finally find out.

Reasons.

Everyone has some. Everyone has a story, some problems, something that makes them look for solutions. The question is whether it was worth it to risk so much. Whether committing a crime was worth it to choose to live here. To continue living in this country.

To be alive.

In the distance you can hear someone's conversation, laughter interspersed with words. Empty corridors carry sounds that ring in your ears, but everything blends into an incomprehensible cacophony of sounds. Into one piece.

You know that resounding, hearty laughter well.

You have heard it many times.

The melody, once heard, is forever imprinted in your memory.

Rhythmically approaching footsteps, voices are getting louder. Two people.

They are close.

The danger makes you feel trapped. Like an injured prey caught in a trap on a hunt.

You nervously look around looking for any way to escape. However, the only way to get out of this place is through this damn corridor, the direction from which you hear the approaching voices.

Panic grips your body and mind, many thoughts appear one second not allowing you to focus and remain rational.

He is about to be right here.

As you involuntarily bite your lower lip and try not to sob, the door finally opens.

A tall and muscular man stands in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the room, like a knight on a white horse with a friendly and affable smile. He greets you and says your name. His name. 

Finally, he invites you inside. This time you managed to escape.

Captain Price. This much you know crossing the threshold of this room. In the morning when two sad gentlemen knocked on your door. You expected to be handcuffed, or something else entirely. Something you were being prepared for.  It could always happen. KIA.

And now, sitting in a more comfortable chair than the ones in the corridor, you look at his Captain. A person you knew a lot about, as well as the entire Task Force 141.

After all, you are a good student. You diligently applied yourself to your lessons. You memorized every word.

Every truth and every prepared lie.

Your made-up life.

The captain leans back in his chair still looking at you, despite the stress of the situation a calmness beats from the man.

You expected accusations, shouting, nervousness and humiliation.

Nothing of the sort happens.

“It's good to finally meet you.”

He says, tilting his head gently to the side and grinning at you.

“When Laswell called me and informed me of the situation. Well. It was quite a shock to me. A positive one. But still... it's quite surprising.”

He doesn't finish the sentence because his words are interrupted by a rhythmic and loud knocking.

Damn.

***

Several hours have passed since those events at the base. Despite the fact that there are a few hours left until nightfall, you decide to spend the night in a nearby hotel and return on the next day, in the early morning.

You didn't even wait for the two gentlemen who brought you here.

You rent a car and return on your own.

You borrowed cash from the captain. The meeting at the base was supposed to be a secret, between you and him. No sign of your presence near the base. You couldn't use your credit card.

Another fucking lie in your life.

Or maybe everything else was untrue and what was happening now was reality. The truth you couldn't quite believe.

It wasn't just the frayed nerves of the situation that made you not want to drive today.

There was something else.

Today is Thursday. A day when when he had the opportunity, he called. He was close by, at a nearby training ground with recruiters. So you can certainly expect weekly contact.

The very thought turns your stomach. It was so ridiculous, infantile.

Unnecessary.

When 9pm strikes, as usual, evenly, punctually the familiar ringtone echoes.

You wait.

One-

Two-

Three.

“Hi”

You sit upright on the edge of the hotel bed, squeezing your thighs tightly together. You straighten your back unnaturally pulling your shoulder blades as close together as possible.

Finally, you hear his low voice.

“Hi love”

Love? Huh, that's something new.

“Hi”

You repeat the greeting in a trembling voice. Does he already know about your unannounced visit to the base. Does he know that his captain has finally found out. What if-

“I miss you, so bad.”

At these words you close your eyes.

There's nothing to worry about. A standard fake conversation between two spouses. In case of eavesdropping, in any doubt. At the risk of someone continuing to check up on you.

“I miss you, too.”

you answer with a learned line. As you do every time.

“I'm counting down the days until I see you again, love”.

You hate it. You hate hearing his words. You shiver. Swallowing the incoming tears.

You're unable to utter another theatrical phrase.

When a lie repeated so many times has become the truth for you. When pretending became a natural behavior. How it happened, that something inside you changed.

So pathetic, weak creature.

For the first time, you can't follow the script.

“ 'r you still there?”

The question hangs in the void. It reaches your ears. Further learned words, however, are blocked inside you.

You open your eyes and your gaze drifts to the floor, to the hotel's dirty carpet. Seconds pass slowly. Each moment makes you feel more and more miserable. You want to throw up.

“I miss you so much, Simon.”

Shit, you're such an idiot.

You quickly hang up, throwing the phone in the sheets and running to the bathroom.

Falling in love wasn't part of the contract.

***

He shouldn't smoke.

He quit exactly when he met you. That September night.

Now, standing behind one of the barracks leaning against a cold wall, he looks up at the same sky. Looking for what you were looking for then.

The sky is dark and cloudy.

“LT?”

He is pulled from his musings by a whisper. Such a familiar voice.

“Where are ya? Come back here, I'll freeze my balls off, if- ”

“I'm comin' , Johnny.”

Crushing the cigarette butt under his military boot, Ghost takes one last look at the sky.

No star. That night he sees none. There's nothing special.

As he enters the room, the small light of the nightstand illuminates the familiar room. When the door slams behind him, in this safe space, he pulls off his mask and walks over to the bed.

Shaking slightly, Johnny sits down on his bed, rubbing his bare shoulders in an effort to warm himself.

“You quit smokin'. ”

A dry statement, Johnny says the words and looks reproachfully at the man standing over him.

Ghost smirks, reaching out his hand to smooth the sergeant's messy hair. Like a tame wild animal. To calm him down. Meticulously styled mohawk was forgotten an hour or two ago.

His hand travels lower to finally stop on the man's jaw and with little force Ghost squeezes his chin, raising it to look him in the eye.

“Behave, Johnny boy.”

“Or what?”

With a cocky grin Johnny asks. He lifts one hand and sticks his fingers in the belt loop of his pants, pulling Ghost closer, so that he's standing between Johnny's legs.

“I don't think you're ready for a second round.”

Finally Ghost pulls away and heads toward the bathroom.

Johnny grunts back.

“I saw her today.”

Ghost stops in mid-step. He stiffens, but doesn't turn toward the man who already regrets his words. There's no going back.

“I want to finally meet her.”

Saying this, he gets up and walks closer. He puts his hand on Ghost's shoulder trying to calm him down. He knows it's too much. Not after what he heard during their weekly conversation.

But a life of lies was destroying him from the inside. He could feel the rot. The stinking evil he felt at every turn. While waking up and falling asleep. It was constantly accompanying him.

No one deserved such cruelty. If he even had to pay for it with his happiness. He would agree without a second thought.

It had gone too far.

“I want to meet your wife, Simon. She needs to know the truth. About all this.”

About us.

______________________________________________________________

English is not my first language, so probably many things are poorly described and the vocabulary is very simple. If you see any mistakes - let me know!

[millerflintstone]

News!

We've been packing up our house over the past few months and have started the process with a couple of realtors about selling our house and finding a rental house in or near Albuquerque, NM. We'll be viewing our second rental possibility on Wednesday. We're gonna talk with the realtor representing that property today at some point. We've seen one property that is a possibility. We'll hopefully get our house listed in the next couple of weeks.

We visited NM in late 2018 and fully had plans to go out again and better scout areas and get a better idea of where to settle down but then life had other plans*. And then there was quarantine and everything we all went through. So, we just decided to get out of GA sooner rather than later.

My current worry is the drive out there. I have so much anxiety about driving cross country by myself. Unfriendly will have stuff in his truck he doesn't want on a moving van, as will I in my car, so we wouldn't be taking turns driving. I'm just an anxious driver in general. I started looking up options for transporting my car last week and got sidetracked.

Anyway, fingers crossed we'll be out there by August.

*I ended up needing a hysterectomy which was a slow healing experience for me. We both had family die between 2019 and 2021. My job situation blew up between 2021 and 2022 and I didn't work for most of 2023. That's the quick and dirty version for folks who haven't been around since then