#queue tea pie

[kinokoshoujoart]

is it really toxic yuri if she doesn’t demand you cut off your fingers for her happiness???

”You have given me gifts over 10,000 times. Congratulations!” haha happy wife happy life…. (my fingers are stumps)

as some of you may or may not have realized i am powerless to the siren call of the ultimate devilish blond Harvest Moon Scum Man, and given that the Japanese version of DS Cute gives you TWO saveslots and TWO hands and the ability to to be in a literal toxic lesbian best friendrriage with ultimate devilish mischievous blonde Harvest Moon Scum Woman i have no choice but to meet all of the Witch Princess’s super reasonable honey do list!!

so one of those fun little non negotiable requests from majo-sama is that you need to give her presents 10,000 times before she’ll even consider marrying you, even if you meet all the marriage requirements!

i don’t mean 10,000 items total— even if you give her a stack of 99 items, it only counts as +1 towards the “items given to witch” counter. you have to give her 10,000 items individually…

in normal gameplay (giving her 1 gift a day, accounting for the holidays when her house is closed) you’ll eventually reach 10,000 gifts!…in your 95th year!

you COULD give her 100 gifts a day every day and knock it out in less than a year, and this was my strategy at first! i quickly realized adding another tedious daily chore to a pile of tedious daily chores slowed the game loop to a crawl and splitting items out was really fucking annoying actually

on the other hand, in 5 IRL hours, you can just get it all done in one visit to her house and never worry about it ever again.

“wow, that sounds like a really great use of my limited time on god’s green earth! how can i too win my future wife’s heart through button mashing my fingers into a pulp?” you ask?

˚✧₊⁎optimized pro gamer technique for breaking your fingers yuri style!!٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶⁎⁺˳✧༚

you will need

dog (each time you show your pet, this adds +1 to the gift counter the same way a gift would)

the bottom screen should be the map screen (reduces loading time between conversations compared to having your rucksack open)

cast endurance on fingers (wait this is redundant, you saw yuri in the title…)

ideal but not required

sometimes when you enter her house, she’s facing the side and her walk cycle never starts. it’s great if you get this glitch because then you can just stand in place for the entire duration without having to look at the screen, and even like watch a movie or whatever while you do all this, instead of accidentally dropping your dog every time she walks to the other bookshelf

if you’re wondering “wait, doesn’t Witch Princess hate dogs and love cats? why are you showing her your dog?” you are absolutely correct! she yells at you to get that stupid beast away from her every time you show your dog to her! her FP goes down by 3 each time! however, since her response to the dog is shorter than her response to the cat, you end up saving like .6 seconds per conversation, saving over 1.5 hours total, so the dog is what she gets

anyway, in true Karen HM64 tradition, after being repeatedly harassed by having a dog she isn’t fond of shoved in her face ten thousand times in a row for like five hours straight, naturally this makes her want to marry you! who said good old fashioned courtly love is dead?!

* as a small note, if you care enough to keep track and give her an actual gift at the 10th, 100th, 1000th, and 10000th mark, you’ll get 4 of the limited Witch Photos early on, which each give you +1 sweet sweet farm degree points every day… honestly that’s not much, but the pain of being told “your hands are full soooo no reward for you lmaoooo sucks to be you” was too much to bear, so i kept track and used a normal present for the 10th, 100th, 1000th, and 10000th…

[thediktatortot]

Sugar Daddy Modern AU Harringrove:

Steve has a lot of money from both the trust fund that was set up for him as a child and from truly delving into the offer his father gives him to work at his company.

He's good at what he does and he likes to thrill seek to spice up his life. Sailing, Skydiving, Hiking and even Caving once or twice.

He also loves the thrill of auctions.

He doesn't actually buy anything (often) because it's the thrill of not knowing whether or not the risky offer you place is going to be topped or not. Steve's lost his game on a few occasions, but never enough that it made him quit.

It's a raffle auction that does him in this time however, a pride event his father's company is holding to 'show their appreciation'. Steve hates these events if only because his father had always told Steve it would ruin him if it got out in the world that the CEO's son was a fag.

Still, that doesn't stop Steve from placing his bid on the company raffle, a "buy a date" game where one could win the chance to take the lucky person out for dinner.

It was all in the name of money of course, none of that money even going to the person who was getting the free date out of it. Every penny going to some charity for the local community.

He'd avoided his father's piercing eyes for the entire duration of the bidding, only being able to see the person who he would be 'taking on a date' from the waist down where they were sitting behind the curtain.

Steve fought with himself as he raised the bet, his eyes unable to look away from the thick legs that crossed and uncrossed nervously as they waited for the bidding to be over. It was probably the legs that made Steve feel like he needed to bid high, dropping some six figure number down after tentative tens of thousands were announced.

He could feel his father fuming. It was fine, Steve could technically afford it and that wasn't really the issue that was concerning his father much.

Steve didn't care what his father thought anyway, not when the curtain pulled back to reveal a man that looked like one of the men on the Marlboro magazines. He didn't have long to celebrate (or mourn) the bid as he had to go finalize the donation paperwork.

It was a few hours later when Steve finally got to meet the man he'd dropped an chunk of money down for, not that he was going to see this as some sort of romantic exchange for money. Steve didn't even think the guy was going to accept the offer for dinner, and if he did, he probably wouldn't want a second one.

Which was fine, Steve may have been a bit of a playboy in his life, but he'd never actually sought out men before. Besides, it felt icky to try and hit on a guy who you just technically paid for.

Why were corporate events so icky?

Billy, it turns out, is really out of his element. Steve can't help but tell him that it's fine if he doesn't want to go out to dinner, saying he honestly finds the whole thing a little creepy and just liked the fun of an auction.

[somehowsnakesblog]

Little things that remind you the devildom is hell:

• no window screens, all the bugs come in when you open the windows

• the carpets never lay flat, you're always tripping over them

• the wifi is really slow, though that might be the fault of Leviathan

• HIGH SCHOOL IS ETERNAL

• the water is always too hot or too cold when you take a shower

• you have tinnitus, even if you didn't before

• HIGH SCHOOL IS FOREVER

• the TV is never at the right volume, always too loud or too quiet

• you are always in high school

• you always drop your fork at the beginning of dinner, so much so that you've started grabbing two

[goodmorningevildoers]

An important reminder to mind your manners.

Fava beans are always in season somewhere.

[reblog-house]

Im really gonna regret watching too many SMPs at the same time soon aren't i.

[willowflowerr]

some photos and videos from the Renaissance Festival yesterday! i finally found my dream flower crown and felt like a hobbit ☺️🍂🧚🏻🍄

[mcturethemes]

error : ignore this post

[shiny-hoppip]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Stranger 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You come up to the bakery, the wagon rolling noisily behind you. You peer through the window as you try to pep talk yourself into going inside. You near the door but shy away as someone else does the same. You wait for them to go in before you do the same.

The door hits the wagon as you draw it inside. It’s bit of a hassle to get it through and there isn’t much room between the counter, the customers, and the table. You’re just in everyone’s way.

“Hey,” your name slices through the dread, “over here.”

You spin and see Chris standing behind a table against the wall. You clear your throat and put your head down, murmuring excuse mes as you weave your way through the queue. You steer the wagon up next to the table and bend the handle back.

“I was getting nervous,” he says.

You look at him. What does he mean?

“I got you some pie,” he gestures to the table, “but uh, wasn’t sure if you do tea or coffee.”

“I’m okay,” you sit and fold your arms, trying to shrink down as the business of the place makes you sweat.

“I still gotta grab myself a coffee, so I don’t mind,” he stays standing.

“It’s fine,” you stare at the pie. It looks delicious but it feels like a trap.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to guess,” he shrugs and backs away.

He marches over to join the line of customers. You hunch down as you peek over at him. His hair is shaved close on the sides, the top a bit longer, softer looking, and his goatee looks thicker than your first meeting. The shadow of stubble darkens his jaw and adds to its squareness. You think he’s older than you, he must be.

He holds his wallet in his hand, tapping it on his thigh as he waits. The muscles in his arms tense with each move. His biceps are huge. You shouldn’t stare like that.

You turn to look at the pie. It’s just pie; pastry, sugar, and apple. So why does it taunt you?

You wallow in the internal battle. You can’t unwind the riddle that is this stranger. Why did you agree to come here? You could’ve just told your grandma his name and she’d leave you alone. Well, you’ve always been terrible at saying no.

“Honey cinnamon latte,” Chris startles you as he sits across from you, clinking down a large bowled cup in front of you as he puts his own at the other end.

“Um,” you blink and swallow tightly, “thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiles. You look at the dusting of cinnamon across the foam. Silence bubbles up between you, the buzz of the other customers doing nothing for the tension. “You know, I haven’t gotten out much. My first trip to town.”

You nod and wring your hands in your lap.

“You come here often? It’s a nice place?”

You shake your head.

“Right, uh,” he crosses his arms over the table and leans forward, “you haven’t tried the pie.”

You bite the inside of your lip and reach for the fork. You slice off the corner of the slice and lean forward to take a bite. You feel him watching you as you scoop it into your mouth and you meet his unwavering gaze. You quickly pull the fork away and chew.

You choke down the flaky crust and try to smile, “it’s good.”

He sighs and brings a hand up to prop his chin in. He squints at you, “you don’t like me.”

“Hm?” Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, “No, I didn’t–”

“I’m being pretty damn nice here,” he grits, “and you won’t even look at me.”

“I’m… sorry, I’m just…” nervous, useless, shy, broken, stupid… You could go on but you’re too embarrassed to say it out loud. “I wasn’t… I just came to get groceries.”

“I’m confused,” he says promptly and drops his arm again, sitting up as he keeps his elbows on the table, “you walk all the way up to my place and give me a sweet little pie, then run away like I’m some sort of monster.”

“Well, I… I was just… my grandma sent me,” you chuff out, “I’m sorry, I’m…” you put the fork down and reach for your satchel. You pull out your change purse and look over at the menu, “I’ll pay you back for the pie and coffee.”

“Keep your damn money,” he growls and you flinch, sitting up straight at the harshness in his tone. “It’s my treat. I want you to enjoy it. If you’d just relax.”

You stare at him. His jaw ticks and he clutches his hands tightly together. His knuckles turn white as his arms flex against the constraint of his tee shirt.

The change purse slips out of your hands and sends coins all around. You squeak and slip off the chair to gather up the mess. You reach around the wagon as you feel the eyes of everyone else witnessing your disaster. As you reach the other wheel, Chris meets you with a handful of nickels and dimes.

You take them shamefully and stuff them away. The thought of paying him back with scrounged up coins chafes in your cheeks. This can’t get any more humiliating.

“Thanks,” you clasp the change purse shut and stand. You look at the wagon then the table. You’ve already upset him, you should just sit down and be polite, just like Grandma would tell you.

You resume your seat and pull close the cup. You bend to inhale the scent of cinnamon. He watches your every move. You peer up at him, eyes glazing with unspent tears.

“It smells really good,” you squeak out. He nods and stares. You lift the cup and take a dainty sip, patting away the residue with your knuckle, “it’s really good. Thank you, Chris.”

The agitation twitches in his jaw one last time and he lets his shoulders relax. He reaches across to nudge the pie closer to you. You grab the fork again and line up the plate with the large cup. Your stomach churns even as the sweet aroma tempts you.

“Where I’m from,” he leans in as you poke at the flaky criss cross of the crust, “people aren’t so nice.”

You blink at him as the edge in his voice tingles down your spine.

“We operate on respect,” he says tersely.

You hover the forkful of pie above the plate and gulp. Your lips part as you stare at him. What did you do wrong?

“Do you know what respect is?” He sneers.

“Sir–”

“That’s a start,” he interjects hotly, “respect is accepting a damn gift with a smile on your face, sugar.”

Your cheeks pinch and your eyes tinge. You make yourself smile and shovel the pie into your mouth. You flick your lashes against the swell in your throat. 

“That’s it,” he scoffs, “you’re learning.”

[kinokoshoujoart]

worst ever NUISANCE husband finally leaves the farm for once after wife throws 10000000 burnt meals at him only to show up at her open air market just to hit on her while refusing to buy anything

did not get screenshots of the other messages he says at the stall but there’s others like this that only play if you’re married to him. so here they are from rock_husband dialogue file, typos included

[thediktatortot]

If you want creatives to have time and energy to finish their works (Art, Writing, Music, Etc), by getting more into real life activism related to human rights, workers rights & healthcare, that will be the ultimate way to help support your favorite creatives without the need of money.

[somehowsnakesblog]

hey funny thought what if Stede and Izzy fuc-*gunshot*

[goodmorningevildoers]

[reblog-house]

Sometimes I see people my age throwing fits online and I realize I'm not that immature after all.

[willowflowerr]

I’m just now watching the first Violet Evergarden movie and it’s so sapphic I’m screaming someone send help

[dreamy625]

Overture and beginners - chapter 1

In early 1979, a junior typist at GEC Traction meets a curly-haired apprentice from the machine shop

Words: 1260

Content: Mentions of casual drinking in this chapter

-----------------------------

Katie supposed she’d known Steve Clark for most of her life, though to be honest she hadn’t paid much attention to him at school. He’d been in the year above, and she’d only noticed him in the morass of spots and football boots that was fifth form boys because he was always hanging round the music rooms when she was there for choir practice. He’d had hair grown just past his collar, which was against the school rules, and she’d wondered how he got away with it. Linda, one of the more boy-crazy members of her class, had tried to cajole him into joining the choir, but he’d just shaken his head shyly and melted away into one of the practice rooms. 

A few months after she’d started as the most junior of junior typists at GEC Traction, she’d recognised him in the canteen. His hair was longer and curly now, but definitely the same boy. He was sitting with the other apprentices from the machine room, a rowdy bunch that she made careful efforts to avoid because they were known to leer and whistle at any female employee who had to venture onto the factory floor. This lad, she couldn’t remember his name just then, seemed to be on the edge of the group, smiling along but not really joining in with the banter. She watched him for a minute or so as the queue inched its way towards the serving hatch, before getting distracted by the choice of soup or cottage pie.

It was months later when she encountered him again, at The Wentworth just round the corner. She usually steered clear of the pubs near work on Friday evenings - they tended to get rowdy and it was mostly just an opportunity for the boys from the machine shop to try and cop off with the girls from the electrical workshop - but it was Maureen’s last day before she left to get married, so all the women from the office who didn’t need to rush back home to cook someone’s tea had come out to celebrate. Katie had planned on staying for just one drink before her date with Gary, but everyone was in a party mood, and some of the older ladies started telling salacious stories about the managers, and suddenly it was gone seven o’clock. She used the payphone in the corridor to call Gary’s house - he hadn’t come home yet, but she left an apologetic message with his mam, maybe slightly exaggerating how much of a friend Maureen was, and returned to the gathering guilt-free. 

By the time it was her turn to buy the next round, the pub had filled up and the throng around the bar was two-deep. She exchanged an eyeroll of fellow-feeling with the customer queuing next to her and then had a moment of recognition.

“You work at GEC, right?”

“Yeah, machine shop. You’re there too?”

“Yup, in the office. I type. Actually, I do more tea-making than typing.”

“Well that’s a useful skill for a Yorkshire lass,” said the young man, and cringed inwardly at such a dad-like comment.

“Actually, I think we might have gone to school together? Wisewood? You did music or something?”

Steve studied her face. “Oh yeah,” he said, nodding, “you do look familiar. You were in the choir?”

“Yup, mezzo-soprano, fourth from the left.”

“Do you still sing?”

“Only in the bath! Do you still play…” She realised she never noticed what he was actually doing in the music room.

“Guitar. A bit. ‘M in a band.” He almost mumbled the last part.

“Oh, cool. I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name?”

“Steve, Steve Clark. And you’re...?”

“Katherine. Well, Katie to everyone who’s not my parents.”

“Nice to meet you, or meet you again, Katie.” He held out his hand in a cramped elbow-up handshake, as they were still trapped in the press of people around the bar. “Are you here with…?” The question tailed off.

Katie gestured to her table, where it seemed another of the apprentices was trying to chat up Janet (120wpm shorthand and E-cup boobs, one or other of those impressive attributes making her an object of great fascination to the men in the factory). “With the girls from work. And it looks like they’ve made a new friend.”

“Oh that’s Charlie, loud but harmless.”

When they reached the front of the queue, Steve, ever the gentleman, let Katie go first. And when the drinks arrived, he offered to help carry them.

“What about your drinks?”

He flapped a hand dismissively. “They can wait. They’re all drunk enough anyway.” He turned towards the table but then looked back. “Do you play pool?”

“Yeah, badly. Why…”

“Badly’ll do.” A mischievous smile formed on his face as he headed to where the women were sitting.

Depositing the drinks, he leant in and whispered in Charlie’s ear. 

Charlie grinned at the suggestion. “We challenge you ladies to a game of pool - if you win, you get to go on a date with me!”

“That was not what I…” 

“And what happens if we lose?”

“You have to go on two dates with him!”

“Hey!” Charlie elbowed his mate in the stomach, but it didn't stop Steve from laughing.

Katie and Janet agreed to the challenge, if not the 'prize' and, with Caroline from Accounts chaperoning in case the boys got handsy (with four grown kids of her own, she had moved on to mothering all the unmarried girls in the office), they moved to the pool table in the corner.

Katie was, as she'd admitted, pretty terrible at pool. Steve was good, and the boys won the first game easily. As they were racking up for the rematch, Charlie suggested they mix it up, him with Janet, and Steve and Katie together. This was a transparent excuse for Charlie to try his best moves on his teammate, putting his arms around her to ‘help’ her line up her shot and somehow always needing to get to the side of the table that meant squeezing past her. Janet put up only token resistance, despite Caroline's disapproving stare. Katie found herself noticing how Steve’s awkwardness vanished when he was concentrating; there was something graceful in the way he moved around the table, and he smiled just as easily when he mis-hit and potted the white as when he made a tricky shot. His skill and Charlie's distraction meant they won the second game, with Steve claiming he was the overall champion, having been on both winning teams. He declined the 'prize' but, from the looks they were giving one another, it seemed like Janet would happily take his place.

"So, um…"

The question he was building up to was interrupted by a passing slap on the back from one of the other apprentices. "We're going for chips, you coming?"

With a glance at Katie he hesitated for a second before shyness got the better of him. "Err, okay, be there in a sec," he called. Turning back to Katie he asked, "I guess I'm off then. You alright getting home?"

"Yup, Caroline and I get the same bus so we'll go together."

"That's good… um… do you think you'll be here next Friday?"

"Oh, yeah, probably. I come in here a lot." (Massive lie.)

"Cool. So… maybe I'll see you then?"

"Sure." 

She smiled and his carefully nonchalant demeanour was torpedoed by a broad grin. He raised his hand in a half-wave as he turned and took quick steps to catch up with his mates. 

Chapter 2 >