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I have a prompt! How about Barista Sid and super flirty customer Geno with SWid writing something cute on his cup?
This one…kinda got away from me, and 1. Sorry this took so long, and 2. I kinda veered from the prompt? A lot? And I think I was kinda projecting a little about how I feel about flirty strangers? But I hope you enjoy it regardless.
“It’s Tuesday,” Flower says, with the kind of resignation the day always evokes. He doesn’t have to explain further, Sid knows what he means. Tuesday means the Russians are coming. Well, Sid is pretty sure the quiet blonde guy is Scandinavian, but mostly, the noisy group that takes up, bare minimum, three tables at 412 Coffee is Russian. Holding court among them most days is Alex, whom Sid privately just labels “Loud Motherfucker.”
@therealjacksepticeye Hi Jack! As a birthday gift to me, please allow me to give YOU something. This is the JSE Pax Book:
Originally, I had planned to deliver this to you in person at Pax West this year, but due to unforeseen circumstances, I am no longer able to attend. However, a lot of really wonderful people took part in bringing this project to life, and we decided that we still wanted to share it with you.
As a small token of our appreciation, some members of the community here on Tumblr helped me put this book together for you. This is a book that was created by people in the community who you’ve never met before, that wanted to share a few words with you. I wanted to put these messages together for you because I know how badly these people want to meet you someday, and they have so many things they want to share with you. And I also know how important it is to you to really see the people behind the usernames and icons. That’s why I’ve made this book as personal as it is.
The pages have unique attributes to the people whose messages are included in here. Some people wanted to show you the things that they like or have an interest in, while others wanted to connect with you, by sharing their favorite memories from the channel. Some people chose to include photos of themselves, others sent fan art, and some decided to use their words alone to reach you. This book is personalized for them, and for you.
I’ve sent you a message here on tumblr, with a link to download the .zip file that includes pictures of each page in the book, as well as document only files, so you can read them a bit easier. There were also a few people who wanted their messages to be more personal and wanted them to be read by you alone. These messages are not technically included in the book, but they are all in the .zip file for you, labeled “PRIVATE” with their usernames. They have not even been read by me.
You should be seeing some posts today in the #jacksepticeye tag, as well as in the #jsepaxbookevent tag, where you can see some of the people who took part in bringing this book to life, that wanted to share in the experience of giving it to you. Some of them will be posting their pages, others will not; but all of the pages that are included in the book will be in that .zip file for you to see.
This book took a lot of time to put together, but the end result was so worth it to be able to see so much love and support for you and the community in just one little scrapbook. This book is comprised of messages from LESS THAN ONE PERCENT of the community, but I hope you can see from this, just how much love is really out there for you. I really hope you like it. :)
How much hair gel do you go through in a month? I'd imagine you use alot because your hair almost always slicked back. Wait.... Is that where the shortage of water is coming from in Alabasta? Production for all your hair gel!
I use a custom formulated pomade.
I experimented with different products when I was younger, but I switched to a custom-branded line around the time I got into private label cigars. By then I’d been getting most of my clothes bespoke, so it made sense.
Someone released another gifset with more praise of that
speech in that scene. It’s like my own
I am labeling this ‘anti stiles’ even though it isn’t
actually against the character. The
scene in Lies of Omission was totally in-character for Stiles. He’s always been emotionally and physically aggressive
when confronted with terrible situations.
He’s always neglecting his emotional health in the hope that it will go
away. He’s always held Scott to an
unrealistic standard of behavior because of his own deep-set insecurities.
What drives me crazy about this scene isn’t that it
happened, but rather the fandom response to it. All the wailing and gnashing of teeth about ‘how
dare Scott not ignore his own fragile emotional state and bow down to our poor
little innocent woobified baby.’
As anyone who delved deeply into my blog should know, the flashpoint
for my rage is always “Some of us are human.”
Again, not the speech itself, but
fandom’s reaction to it. As if it was
something good. As if it was something to
praise: Stiles’ cruel and callous attempt to dump his own guilt at Scott’s
feet and make it the alpha’s fault.
I wish the Stiles fandom would just take a moment to look at
this from Scott’s standpoint. Forget
that it is their woobie-baby-fandom-bicycle talking and listen to it from the
point of view of a person who’s lost his girlfriend Kira, failed to rescue his
beta Liam and his girlfriend Hayden, and essentially given into his darker
desires by probing Cory’s mind against his will. Just try.
Stiles: Yeah, because you’re Scott McCall! You’re the True
Scott’s POV: Stiles
is telling him he’s an arrogant sod that’s gotten everything handed to him.
Stiles: Guess what?
All of us can’t be True Alphas. Some of us have to make mistakes!
Scott’s POV: Stiles
is telling him that it doesn’t matter that you’ve let over a half-dozen
teenagers be taken, mutilated, and murdered, that the girl you love is in
terrible danger and gone somewhere so you can’t help her, that you invaded Corey’s
mind, and that you’ve lost Liam’s trust.
Stiles is saying that being your friend is a burden that he doesn’t want
Stiles: Some of us have to get out hands a little bloody
Scott’s POV: Stiles is saying that it doesn’t matter that he
has to resist the urge to kill every full moon, that he had to fight off Peter’s
attempt to make him a killer, Deucalion’s attempt to make him a killer, and
Kate’s attempt to make him a killer in which he nearly butchered Kira. Stiles is saying that you have no idea what
it feels like to take another person’s life or even want to.
Stiles: Some of us are human!
Scott’s POV: Stiles
is saying you’re a monster and a freak and where do you get off judging me?
And if that is not enough, Stiles turns around and has the
nerve to beg Scott to believe him.
Stiles knows he just got finished telling him he’s inhuman,
self-righteous, and he wishes he wasn’t his friend, that he’s been deceiving him for weeks, but
that doesn’t matter, because right now, the only thing that is important to Stiles
Stilinski is that Scott exists to validate his existence.
Again, given the Nogitsune trauma, given what happened with Donovan,
given his own insecurities, this is totally within character. It’s not even an unreasonable response to
the stress he is under.
What is unreasonable is to ignore the stress that Scott is
under for that scene, for the fandom to actively share in Stiles’ conception of
Scott as a flawless superhero (and then turn around and condemn him for being a
boring and unrealistic character), and make this entire scene with all the
cruel, vicious words Stiles spews completely and utterly about Scott not
Yeah, yeah, it drives me mad. But I suspect that someone on the Teen Wolf
writing staff noticed that it was a bitch, because they seem to be falling over
each other trying to make us think that Stiles is a good friend.
Phil drapes his suit jacket over the back of the armchair and tosses his briefcase onto the seat, eyeing the lit candles on the table throwing flickering shadows over the spread Clint’s laid out. “What are we celebrating?” he calls back lightly.
“Our anniversary!” Clint exclaims as he exits the kitchen with a basket of bread in hand. Depositing it in the center of the table, he smoothly pulls out Phil’s usual chair and winks saucily at him.
Phil’s brow furrows, and he gapes for a moment, racking his brain for which anniversary this could possibly be because according to his carefully maintained calendar, they aren’t due for one for at least two more weeks.
With a huff, Clint rounds the table and manhandles Phil into his seat. “Of our first kiss? Seriously, Phil, how am I the one up on this when you’re not?”
Phil’s hands twitch in his lap as he resists the urge to go for his phone and check his meticulous Google calendar he’s privately labelled #RelationshipGoals. “Today’s not–” And then, of course, various puzzle pieces click into place as Phil catalogs the exact date and where they both were exactly one year ago today. “Seriously? Me giving you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation does not count as our first kiss, Clint!”
“It totally counts! Your lips were all up on my lips for an extended period of time! Thus, first kiss!”
“Even if that’s how you’re defining it, today still wouldn’t be the right day because that shitshow op in Georgia wasn’t even the first time I gave you mouth-to-mouth!”
“No, that would be three years ago come November. Buenos Aires? When you managed to drive your getaway vehicle off the pier and into the ocean?” Phil still remembers the exact date, November 18th, namely because that particular incident earned a spot on his calendar as the day he realized he was actual facts in love with his subordinate asset.
All his bluster leaving him in an instant, Clint collapses back in his chair with a horrified look. “I’m the worst boyfriend in existence.”
“I forgot our first kiss, Phil!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Mouth-to-mouth is not the same as kissing!”
Request: Hi! I have a request, Bucky X reader where reader is deaf and
Clint teaches Buck sign language to talk to the reader better?
A/N: I got so carried away writing this oh my goodness. I’m so sorry for
being MIA for over a week but all my exams are coming up and I’ve been studying
like crazy so updates will be a little less frequent for a while. This is
unedited (oops) so any mistakes I’ll fix up tomorrow. Anyway, italics mean sign language for those
wondering. Happy reading!
It was a
bitter Thursday morning in The Avengers Tower. Members of the team were
scattered around the place- some were catching up on sleep, some training, some
on missions, and some seated in the living room.
your legs draped over Clint’s lap whilst engrossed in your most recent book and
Clint was playing some kind of game on his IPad, which whenever anyone said it
was stupid they would hear the “it’s a
strategic game that tests your reaction times and your stamina” rant. To
which they would always reply, “Clint,
it’s Candy Crush”. Tony was seated across from you both listening to some
appalling music, as usual. It was times like that when you were thankful you
couldn’t hear too well.
unlikely friendship between yourself and Clint sparked up when you joined the
team just over 15 months ago. Before you met everyone, Steve had told them in
advance about your disability, specifically telling Clint about it.
then, you spent most of your time in the company of Clint and/or Nat. You’d go
with him to visit his family after missions as you and Laura were extremely
close, and you’d communicate with each other through sign language- a perfect
excuse to make fun of the other avengers without them understanding.
Bucky joined the team he noticed the way you’d squint your eyes as someone
spoke to you if there was too much background noise, or the way you’d
manipulate your hands to communicate with Clint. At first he was completely
oblivious to the fact that you were deaf; if it wasn’t for Steve explaining it
to him he’d probably spend the rest of his time thinking you deliberately
past few weeks, yourself and Bucky had been getting to know each other more. He
would come and visit you when you were both free. It started when he began
talking to you about your book; a grin was spread hugely across his face as you
spoke. As your visits became more regular, your conversations became laced in
seriousness instead of the light heartedness of prior conversations.
mind at all, but it became apparent that Bucky would get completely lost in
what he was saying and his pace would quicken and he’d splutter out his words,
meaning it was a struggle for you to understand everything he was saying.
Having a hearing impairment meant your ability to fully understand was limited,
you’d focus so hard on lip reading that you’d forget to actually take in what
he was saying.
course, Bucky noticed. He would blush radically, and apologise profusely. Not
forgetting to mentally scold himself whilst he was at it. You’d reassure him as
soon as the apologies started but it would never work and he’d always leave in
a ball of embarrassment.
to you, Bucky had been doing more than humiliating himself. He had been scheduling meetings with Clint in
order to learn sign language. He had tried attending classes for it but being
in a stranger’s company made him feel uncomfortable. Clint was his last option.
first, talking to you was partially meaningless, nothing other than a way to
kill his boredom. But the more you revealed yourself to him, the more you gave
him glances at the snapshots of your life, the more he found himself falling
deeper and deeper.
Before he knew it, talking to you became the
highlight of his day.
he noticed you getting visibly frustrated whilst he spoke, it shattered all of
his hopes of your relationship developing. Communication was key to any
successful relationship, but every time he spoke it was hard for you to
understand him, leaving the both of you defeated. Which lead him to the
conclusion that sign language was his last resort.
learnt enough sign language to hold a decent conversation with someone; he knew
all the basics and was almost fluent in the alphabet. Clint had encouraged him
to talk to you as soon as possible but he hadn’t found the courage to do it.
you thought he was a complete fool and laughed in his face?
pushed that thought to the back of his head as he strolled into the living
room, glancing around to find you. Clint tapped your foot gently, signalling to
Bucky when you snapped your head at him. Before you had the chance to greet
him, Bucky was holding his human hand out to you, rocking on the balls of his
feet nervously. You furrowed your eyebrows before standing up and accepting,
glancing at Clint who just grinned knowingly.
lead you through the hall until he came to a door labelled ‘private’. He inhaled deeply before ushering you into the foreign
room. The realisation hit you as soon as you entered. This was the old, almost
unrecognisable conference room. The walls were no longer lined with stacks of
chairs and the huge glass table that was usually placed in the middle was
there was a small wooden table located opposite two adjacent armchairs that had
been placed in there, all facing the New York skyline. A set of Tulips were
placed neatly on the table along with a tall flickering candle that’s
reflection could be seen in the glass.
questions were whizzing around in your brain, but the reassuring feeling of
Bucky holding your hand was enough to silence every single one of them. He
directed you over to the pair of chairs, you both sat down in silence, taking
in the extraordinary landscape ahead of you.
turned to you, fumbling with the sleeve of his shirt nervously. “Hello Y/N,” He signed, his human and
metal hands colliding with each other.
you signed a hello back, staring at his hands. He began rubbing the nape of his
neck as if to calm himself down.
“For months-“Bucky began signing, but stopped
cautiously. You nodded at him, urging for him to go on, “I have practised to sign.”
You breathed. Your eyes searched his face for an answer but his eyes were
closed and his face scrunched up.
“I want to talk to you, and this
was the only way.” He
signed shakily, his lip becoming trapped by his teeth.
heart was beating at an abnormal pace and your cheeks were reddening by the
second as you turned over what he said in your head. A flood of tears were
forming behind your eyes as the man in front of you reached over for your hand.
Nobody had ever done such a grand gesture for you. Even your old friends
refused to learn any form of sign language because it was too difficult.
You really didn’t have to do this for me,” You said softly, “-but this means so
much to me.”
“I wanted to coffee you happy,” Bucky signed.
escaped your lips at what Bucky had said. It was common to muddle the words ‘make’
and ‘coffee’ up, especially for a beginner, but you couldn’t help but laugh at
frantically shook his head and began getting to his feet urgently. You reached
out towards him and grasped both of his hands. You slowly made the gesture for
coffee, “This one means coffee.” You then moved his hands to form the sign of
make, “And this one means make.”
began laughing at his error as you tried to encourage him. “This is harder than
you and Clint make it look,” He spoke, traces of laughter still clear on his
“You’re doing well.” You motioned slowly, your eyes
glittering with happiness.
leant over to the arrangement of yellow tulips on the table and grabbed them. “Your favourites,” Bucky began. “You told me you loved these on a mission.”
breath hitched in your throat at your shock. You remember that mission fondly
and at almost every party Natasha tells the story of you stopping fighting
Hydra to pick some yellow Tulips that were growing and wearing one in your hair
for the rest of the day. You were surprised Bucky remembered.
remembered?” Bucky nodded in response to your question. He handed you the
flowers slowly, a warm look spread across his face at your reaction. You
admired the flowers carefully, before diverting your attention back towards
“So,” He closed his eyes slightly
before continuing to sign, “How about a
eyes lit up immediately, a hoard of elephants began dancing around in your
stomach. It was as if you could feel every little step they made and a jolt of
nervousness erupted over your whole body.
“As if I’d
say no to you,” You grinned hugely. You signed a hurried “Yes.” Before moving over to where Bucky was sitting. He stood up,
towering over you as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Your head was
buried in his shirt and he rested his chin on top of your head.
lucky girl, Barnes,” You mumbled. You knew in that moment that there was no
other place better than together and in his arms, and you sure as hell didn’t
want to let go.
Sitting at my desk,
staring out the window of the factory and contemplating whether or not I should
first work on design or get to pushing some papers. It’s the constant battle of
left brain vs. right brain.
Where did you grow up?
I grew up in San Diego,
California….well, for the most part. My mom, two older brothers and I
bounced around quite a lot growing up, can't remember but I think we
ended up living in roughly 20 spots by the time I was 18. I ran around
with a solid crew growing up, luckily most of my buds were older, which kept me
on my toes and away from much of the bullshit you can find yourself wrapped up
in at that age. I was introduced to the board when I was about
three years old, from there I spent most of my time picking up bruises and ear
infections between the skatepark and the ocean. It never got old, we were
always running around, making up our own dumb tricks, skating banks or fences,
hell winding down old parking garages and skitchin' off of the ice
cream truck or mail man.
We grew up
surrounded in the “action sports” industry, picked up a few sponsors
and had it really good. Wasn’t until I started getting free clothes that I
actually started to appreciate clothing. Kind of backwards but I remember
receiving boxes from Billabong only to find a screen printed dragon spitting
out fire with the name “Billabong” splattered across the chest. Yeah
I know, different strokes for different folks, but for me it was what I saw as
bad design that inspired me to produce what I considered to be good
design…not to say my first thousand attempts were any better. I ended up
working in their design offices last year of high school under Paul Wood, where
I ultimately came to the conclusion that good design comes with an
understanding of process and for any improvement to be made you must merge the
two. That was when the initial idea of owning my own factory and
What do you do for a living – what are your hobbies – how closely do these two
I co-founded and
operate Knickerbocker Mfg. Co., a menswear label and private label manufacturer
here in New York. Special thanks to Steven Watman who passed down his family’s
two generation old factory to us and to those who supported our funding
campaign in order to take it over. It’s funny…people tend to think
owning a business must mean you’re making bills, but I can tell you a majority
of the bills I’m stacking are bills owed. That’s the way it goes in the
beginning, every day you think you’re going out of business. It’s not a bad
thing, yeah it gets stressful but it keeps you going, teaches you hold on to
that pursuit and appreciate it because you just never know how long its
going to last. So, we put a skate ramp in our factory.
Don’t get it
twisted, we’re working hard and shooting for longevity but with no guarantees
you best bet we’ll do our best to enjoy every bit of it, every day. I
remember doing 30 foot power slides when we first cleaned the factory out,
a fresh coat of Murphy’s on a nice wood floor and some friends to enjoy it
with. Shortly after the ramp was built and the space we once occupied with our
flat spot wheels became filled with sewing machines. Things for Knickerbocker
have looked up ever since then; I have had some real ups & downs but my
work has really never divided me from my hobbies. Every day I get to better my
design, skate, play a little guitar and work with the best crew I could ask
for. I don’t know many lucky enough to have both in that capacity.
When did your relationship with PF Flyers begin?
I was always
familiar with the brand growing up, but the sneakers I always wanted came about
30 years before I did. Wasn’t until Liberty Fairs in Las Vegas when the
brand really hit home for me again, I couldn’t tell you how psyched I was to be
seeing one of my favorite brands back to doing what they do best…back to the
classics. That’s where I met Alyasha for the first time, reminiscing about
San Diego skate spots, mutual friends and probably a bit of chit chat about
Mexican food as well. A lot of brands don’t walk the line they paint for
others, it was good to see PF surrounded by folks with a mutual appreciation
and understanding for the culture PF was raised by.
The first love of my life never saw me naked - there was always a parent coming home in half an hour - always a little brother in the next room.
Always too much body and not enough time for me to show it.
Instead, I gave him my shoulder, my elbow, the bend of my knee - I lent him my corners, my edges, the parts of me I could afford to offer - the parts I had long since given up trying to hide.
He never asked for more.
He gave me back his eyelashes, the back of his neck, his palms - we held each piece we were given like it was a nectarine that could bruise if we weren’t careful.
We collected them like we were trying to build an orchid.
And the spaces that he never saw, the ones my parents half labeled “private parts” when I was still small enough to fit all of myself and my worries inside a bathtub - I made up for that by handing over all the private parts of me.
There was no secret I didn’t tell him, there was no moment I didn’t share - and we didn’t grow up, we grew in, like ivy wrapping, moulding each other into perfect yings and yangs.
We kissed with mouths open, breathing his exhale into my inhale - we could have survived underwater or outer space.
Breathing only of the breathe we traded, we spelled love, g-i-v-e, I never wanted to hide my body from him - if I could have I would have given it all away with the rest of me - I did not know it was possible.
To save some thing for myself.
Some nights I wake up knowing he is anxious, he is across the world in another woman’s arms - the years have spread us like dandelion seeds - sanding down the edges of our jigsaw parts that used to only fit each other.
He drinks from the pitcher on the night stand, checks the digital clock, it is 5am - he tosses in sheets and tries to settle, I wait for him to sleep.
Before tucking myself into elbows and knees reach for things I have long since given up.