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riverianepondsims · 2 months

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The Sims 4 to The Sims 3 - LittleDica Rise & Grind Coffeehouse Set

Quite some time ago, I mentioned that a café themed set was on the horizon - here it is now! ☕ Important info and download 💾 below:

About a year ago, I worked on several projects, but many things happened that prevented the release of them. This set was one of them - primarily, I make things for myself and my own use and post later. However, when it came to posting these, some items needed a little extra attention as I wanted them to look a little better, and I ended up adding more than I originally had. It's here now, so it all worked out in the end :) Some of you may have spotted some of these items in my Target set previews 🧐 bonus points to you. Most of LittleDica's sets are my absolute favorite from TS4, and I'm already working on more. Plan to see more of these and others soon! Here's what's included: Aroma Sensations Mural - Wall Deco Professionally Scribbled Chalk Drawing - Wall Deco Dracaena Lemon Lime Plant - Deco Splash of Coffee Mural - Wall Deco Artist's Café Mural - Wall Deco Napkin Holder - Deco Café Bar - Deco Surface with many slots Counter Straw Holder - Separated deco from café bar mesh Counter Menu Sign - Separated deco from café bar mesh Coffee Shop Wall Sign (Text) - Wall Light Coffee Shop Wall Sign (Round) - Wall Light Coffee Shop Wall Sign (Large Backlit) - Wall Light Preparation Station - Display/Miscellaneous Surface, has many deco slots for holding items Coffee Beans Bin - Floor Deco Coffee Bags Bin - Floor Deco Coffee Bean Silo - Deco Wall Menu Sign - Wall Deco Iced Drink Tumbler - Deco Coffee Machine Pods - Deco Coffee Mug - Deco Espresso Powder - Deco Corporate Window Stickers - Wall Deco Syrup Bottle - Deco Spice Shaker - Deco Reusable Hot Coffee Cup - Deco H&B Smooth Pro Blender - Functional food processor appliance Barista Professionista Coffee Grinder - Functional coffee machine appliance Functional EA Edit by Me - Separated Barista Bar - Fully functional version of the barista bar coffee machine without the counter. It is "floating" and does not require placement on a counter or surface. May want to use moveobjects and/or alt placement to place around objects and surfaces, but is very versatile and works just like the original! Dunkin' - Lot file, modified version of TKL4EVR's Great American Eateries Baskin-Robbins Lot. Around this time last year, Dunkin became my favorite go-to coffee, and mocha cold brew has got me through the rollercoaster of this last year! ☕️ I edited this lot for me, but figured I'd share. Place in: The Sims 3 > Library Collection File - collection file to find the items easy in build/buy mode. Place in: The Sims 3 > Collections > User 🔍 Search: You can search for riverianepondsims, LittleDica, or 2023 to locate the items conveniently using a catalog search mod.

- You can find all of my previous uploads conveniently by clicking “Navigation” on my blog and going to “Downloads” or visiting riverianepondsims downloads

My downloads will always be free, but if you would like to say thank you: Ko-fi ☕

💾 Download: SFS - Archive file ☕️🍩🥐

#ts3cc #ts3 cc finds #s3cc #ts3 #sims 3 cc #my cc #cc download #ts3 cc download

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steddie-there · 1 year

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Eddie notices it first at Dairy Queen.

It's the first time since leaving the hospital that he's been somewhere with the whole party that isn't Steve's house or the Hoppers-Byers cabin. The younger children crowd the counter, talking over each other as they count their money and decide what to get, while the older teens and adults hang at the back, looking at the menu. Then Erica steps over to Steve and says something Eddie can't quite make out. He nods, winds his way through the gremlins, and places his order. When his name is called, he picks up two cups of ice cream and hands one to Erica, who takes it with a smirk and a comment Eddie can't make out, although it has Steve laughing and shoving playfully at her shoulder.

Eddie turns then to look at the other kids but none of them even seem to notice that Steve has seemingly paid for Erica and not them. It's confusing because Eddie is sure Henderson, at least, would be kicking up a fuss about it. Not even Robin says anything.

But, then again, maybe Steve owes Erica money. Or he lost a bet. Eddie is aware how fierce the younger Sinclair is in collecting on her debts, having made the mistake once and once only of asking her to buy him a soda. So, if no one else is bothered, neither is he. He shrugs and enjoys his sundae.

But then it happens again the next week at Baskin Robbins.

And again two weeks later.

When the last ice cream truck left in Hawkins comes through Steve's neighborhood and the only one to get anything is Erica - at Steve's expense, of course - and the other kids don't even grumble beyond wishing they hadn't blown all their allowance at the arcade, Eddie decides he's had enough.

"Okay, what is it with this ice cream thing???" he bursts out as they all settle back down next to the pool.

The burble of conversation stops as everyone turns to look at him, then glance around at each other.

"What ice cream thing?" Mike finally asks, genuinely confused.

"What ice cream... the ice cream thing!" Eddie splutters. "The thing where Steve always buys Erica ice cream and none of the rest of you munchkins seem to care!"

There's a collective ohhhh of understanding, but Eddie is still completely in the dark. He gestures for someone to explain.

"It's because of Operation Child Endangerment," Dustin answers, casual, like it's a normal, non-question-inducing answer.

Eddie scrunches his brows together and lets out a confused bubble of sound at the same time that Steve buries his face in his hands and groans, "I thought we agreed not to call it that."

Erica laughs and wags her finger at him. "Uh, no. Just because you demanded we change it doesn't mean we agreed to."

"...little lost here. What's Operation Child Endangerment?" Eddie asks, glancing sideways at Steve. He can see, between his fingers, that the other boy's face has gone bright red.

Steve groans again and sinks forward to let his head hang by his knees.

And so Eddie finds out everything about the summer of '85 and Starcourt mall. He already knew the basics, but he's still fascinated. Horrified. Impressed.

He watches Steve through the whole retelling, jumbled as it is by the kids all interrupting each other to add something they thought was being forgotten, and feels his heart ache inside his chest for the beautiful boy across from him. Watches him hunch his shoulders when Erica explains the deal they made, the one that's got her free ice cream for life. Watches him puff up a little with pride when Dustin describes him knocking the Russian comms operator out cold. Watches him squeeze Robin's hand when she mentions the Russian torture and drugs. Watches him tug El into a hug when Jonathan talks about having to cut into her leg.

Eddie watches Steve - brave, loyal, loving Steve, who won't break a promise or a deal even after he most certainly could - laughing with their friends, taking their ribbing and teasing them in return, ruffling Dustin's hair and splashing Erica, almost starting a party-wide splash fight.

Eddie waits until everyone is distracted by Max chasing Lucas across the pool after his cannonball knocked her from her floaty, various advice being shouted to both, then moves to sit next to Steve on his pool chair.

"That was, uh, a lot," he says quietly.

Steve bites his lip, turns a little away from the chaos in and around the pool, although his eyes still track the chase, Max having almost cornered Lucas. "Yeah, yeah it was," he replies, just as quietly.

"Pretty impressive," Eddie tells him, knocking their shoulders together.

Steve shrugs. He snorts as Max finally catches Lucas and dunks him a couple times before they both dissolve into laughter.

Eddie bumps his shoulder again. "Seriously, dude, you gotta know how cool you are."

"I guess," Steve says, still not looking at Eddie, fidgeting with his hands instead.

Eddie thinks he knows what thoughts might be running around inside Steve's head, so he puts a hand over Steve's. The jittery motions still under his touch. "Hey, you got them out of there. You didn't know what you were walking into and you all got out alive. I call that pretty badass."

Steve finally turns to him. The look in his eyes makes Eddie want to pull Steve close, hold him until that look disappears. But he doesn't, just squeezes Steve's fingers.

The corner of Steve's mouth ticks up, just a little. "Thanks, Eddie." He looks like he might say more, but suddenly Dustin lets out a whoop and they both turn to the pool. Jonathan, Nancy, Robin, and Argyle have started a game of chicken, Nancy on Jonathan's shoulders and Robin on Argyle's.

They watch, laughing, as the girls wrestle until they both go tumbling into the water together and come up spluttering. Steve's head is thrown back, his shoulders are shaking with giggles and Eddie feels a grin stretch across his face.

He leans forward to rest his chin on Steve's shoulder, his hand still over Steve's, a teasing tone in his voice when he says, "So, hey, I was wondering. What would it take for me to get free ice cream for life from Steve Harrington?"

Steve turns his head and Eddie pulls back so they can look at each other. And that's all they do for a long moment, Eddie's breathing speeding up when Steve's gaze drops to his lips.

But all Steve does is turn his hand in Eddie's grip, so he can tangle their fingers together. He squeezes Eddie's hand, then stands, grinning, tugging Eddie up with him.

"C'mon," Steve says, pulling Eddie over to the pool before jumping in with a splash. Eddie ducks away from the water, grinning like a fool. When he catches Erica's knowing smirk, he just shrugs helplessly and follows Steve in.

Maybe he owes Erica some free ice cream, too.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #erica sinclair #dustin henderson #robin buckley #steve absolutely still buys erica all her ice cream and probably will for the rest of their lives #eddie thinks it's charming #and this further confirms for him that steve is badass #also this got way more serious than i was expecting 😅#and sometimes the characters take over #yeah i really have no idea what happened cuz this was just supposed to be funny 😅#oh well #enjoy

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salvador-daley · 2 years

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Ooh! I wish you would write a fic where... We get to see how you think Klaus would be doing in S4, in the reset universe. 👀

A fresh start

A Klaus Hargreeves ficlet

A/N: My apologies in advance; this one got super dark. Thanks so much for the request @hucklebunny. I hope I managed to do it justice. 😘😘 Thanks, as always, to @allisoooon for putting up with my relentless screengrabs and pestering.

CW: Alcohol abuse, injury, PTSD. You know, the usual Klaus stuff

Words: 1.5K

At first, it seemed easy. New timeline, new Klaus. A new outlook on life. A fresh start, which is what (he assumed at the time) he so desperately needed.

He woke up every morning with a smile on his face. The air seemed crisper, the colours in the trees seemed brighter and more vivid, the sounds of the city seemed to come together in a beautiful medley of birdsong and wind rustling through leaves and children playing in the distance.

It was paradise. At first. A kind of Eden. And, for once, Klaus was able to explore it without the need for chemical assistance. His body seemed to have been printed anew - a perfect replica without any of its previous niggles and faults and failings. Even his IBS had cleared up, which was such a blessing - a fact he had discovered while on a late night visit to Baskin Robbins, peering through the glass counter at that big barrel of fudge ripple that no one ever changes out. He had chuckled to himself at the thought of how he’d once empathised with that almost-empty tub - all scooped out and used up. But now he was a full barrel - a fresh batch of tutti frutti with extra scoops piled on top. No more ghosts. No more ghouls. No more horrifying flashbacks of locked mausoleums and overhead rotor blades and shells landing by his feet. Just a blissful new beginning, every morning of every day.

Luther, on the other hand, was miserable.

At first, he’d been optimistic and focused. He had managed to secure them a small apartment (which was a difficult enough feat in itself without the proper identification and credit history) creating a base from which to look for Sloane. He passed out flyers, he stapled posters to telegraph poles, he scoured the HarNet message boards for any sign or clue or smoke signal - a breadcrumb that might lead him back to her.

But nothing came. Before long, Luther had sunk into a deep depression. Every evening, Klaus would return from his job waiting tables at a nearby diner and find his brother in exactly the same position in which he had left him; slumped on the sofa, surrounded by cans and fast food packets, eyes staring through the TV, which was permanently tuned into HNN, rolling non-stop with news from the Hargreeves Empire.

It was pointless to try to move him. Any attempts to rouse him were met with a dismissive hand wave or - worse - an outburst of violent sobbing and wailing and pillow clutching.

One night, while watching news of the latest Hargreeves business venture (a small household device that anticipates your every desire and fleeting whim from minute to minute by analysing the data from your psychological profile, shopping habits, brainwaves, HarNet search history and nightly dreams) Luther had stirred just long enough to speak a single sentence: “He took everything from me. What else is left to know?”

After that, Klaus had abandoned any further attempts to lift him out of his funk. If the poor bastard wanted to be miserable, then he had earned the right to be miserable. Klaus brought home leftovers from the diner and reminded him to hydrate and that was enough.

The honeymoon period didn’t last long for Klaus either. Loneliness crept in, like a thief in the night come to rob him of any semblance of peace of mind.

Diego and Lila’s projected image of conjugal bliss didn’t help matters. Yes, they bickered non-stop, and, yes, they were just as disastrous as parents as they had been in every other aspect of their lives, but they had each other. And they had baby Ronnie.

The boy could be a tetchy, demanding infant, just like his father, but the child also had Lila’s doleful brown eyes and playful nature, which made him a delight to be around, when he wasn’t screaming bloody murder.

Unfortunately for Klaus, Diego’s domestic set-up was just another reminder of all the things he would never have: a stable home, a loving family. A warm body to hold him in the night. He started to spread his visits to the Hargreeves-Pitts household a little more thinly. And then eventually he stopped visiting them altogether.

Instead, he would take himself down to the vets’ bar after work and watch the people dashing through the rain outside the window, nursing a drink until it was time to go home and observe Luther’s continued descent into catatonic despair.

And that’s when the nightmares started again. Different this time. Less like ghostly visitations, and more like trips to a vivid alternate dimension. One in which the mingled scent of blood and gunpowder and mud still lingered in his nostrils.

Drinking deadened the senses, made the mind numb. But any escape it offered was temporary and fleeting.

The accident was the major turning point. The problem with spending one’s whole life as an immortal being with miraculous healing powers only to suddenly lose them at the age of thirty-something-ish is that you never really learn how not to get yourself killed. All the scrapes he got into as a teen, all the accidental overdoses, all the times he woke up behind a dumpster in the middle of winter had been chalked up to harmless mishaps, when in fact each one was likely a life-ending event. Klaus had never mastered the art of self-preservation because he’d never had to, until now.

He had to learn to look both ways when crossing the street. He had to learn the limits of the human body; to buckle his seatbelt, to cook his chicken all the way through. Basic shit that everyone else just knows, but which was a mystery to Klaus as he fumbled his way through this new life at which he was only granted one measly shot.

How was he supposed to know? Temptation was all around him. The keys to the golf cart had been left in the ignition. Even a sober person couldn’t have resisted a siren call that clear.

Coincidentally, he was not sober, but that seems beside the point now.

The resulting collision put him in the hospital for weeks and when he was ejected for failing to pay his bill he found himself with no job, no money and a pronounced limp.

He couldn’t even turn to drugs for comfort. The old man had designed a universe without abusable substances of any kind. Klaus was forced to tough out the pain, to endure it just as his father would have expected him to.

Now there were two of them on that couch, four glazed eyes fixed on the screen, dual brains being pummelled by the endless stream of news from the universe their father had so deftly crafted with himself at the centre.

And that’s when they saw her for the first time. Allison, in all her glory. Walking a red carpet in a dark blue velvet dress, her daughter on one side and her husband on the other - two people that had only existed in a reality which was since blitzed from memory, and never at the same time.

The penny finally dropped. While Klaus and Luther were vegetating on this couch, their sister was out there living a life they could only dream of. Rich, famous, and with the perfect paradoxical family - two halves of a life meshed together to make a whole one. And, the cruellest twist of all: Allison had sacrificed Luther’s great love for her own.

Clearly, she still had her powers too. How else would she be starring in the latest 21st Century Hargreeves studio blockbuster, swishing the mermaid train of her dress down that red carpet?

She always was a mediocre actress.

Klaus could feel a bitter swell of anger building within him that he didn’t know he could possess. He and Allison had always been so close, ever since they were children and she used to paint his fingernails beneath the dining table during mealtimes and let him draw comedy beards and glasses on the faces of her rivals in the teenage magazines whose covers she graced.

But now she was like a stranger, her blank face blinking beneath the photographers’ flashbulbs, as if nothing they’d endured together had ever mattered.

Was it Allison’s deceit, or the lingering sting of another, greater betrayal that drove him to do what he did?

Perhaps it was a bit of both.

The juvenile detention centre specialised in problem cases; youngsters with paranoid delusions and homicidal tendencies. Ones too deranged to be released back into polite society, too young for the adult system.

Klaus hobbled into the visiting room on his walking stick and took a seat by the far corner, beneath the barred window, and he waited.

The young man was the last of the inmates to enter. He looked older, but only slightly. Taller too. He was obviously experiencing a growth spurt. His hair was shorter and his body was beginning to take on the wiry musculature of an adult. He flicked a hand through his fringe as he took a seat at the small formica table across from Klaus.

“I was wondering how long it would take before you came crawling to me for help,” said Five.

If you liked this, please give it a little reblog 😘😘

Tagging your asses, now you’re it: @badsext @seanfalco @softforklave @neist @purblzart @maerenee930 @firstpersonnarrator @allisoooon @cemeteryklaus @super-unpredictable98 @courtneytarynofficial @mokolataddict @pickledbeefwastaken @love-is-dirty-baby @rina-cydonia @inspiremeandsetmefree @jender123 @vonkimmeren @sylvertyger @hucklebunny @rob-private @pietro-t1me @not-oscar-wilde @squishitude

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chicken-delight · 2 months

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tonight I’m feeling sentimental about the record store that was walking distance from my house since we moved in which was like fifth grade to I don’t know senior year of high school? But you guys. It was so marvelous. When I would have my babysitting money and it would be a holiday off of school or a weekend when my parents are out of town and I would put on my coolest outfit. probably something I would have worn on the sunset strip in 1968. And I’d grab an apple or like a handful of blueberries, my cash, and then walk first to the thrift store first thing in the morning at 10 AM. And I spent hours in there, and you know the smell of the secondhand store of like secondhand clothes, so comforting to me and first, I would go to the shirts, but usually there was nothing there that was good enough for me. So then I would be line to the dresses, and I would find the most beautiful dresses to wear, and then I’d go diagonal over to the rest of the ladies section and find skirts and blouses. Not shirt but blouses. And sometimes I would look through the like two piece, old lady, business suits and look and see if like the dresses were cute without the little cardigan jacket that it came with and then I’d go even more diagonal to the men’s shirts and sift through all three or four racks of men’s shirts because I thought it was funny to you know where ironic silly T-shirts. And then I go through the dress shirts of the men section, and then I go to the belts, and I always love the men’s section belts, and then at the back of the men’s section through the boys section where it was the shoes and I would probably buy a pair of ugly ass brown clogs. Because those are my thing and then I’d go back over to where the dresses were over to book section that was also you know this section where they had like actual expensive things under glass and I’d look through the books and really all it was was like church and then like some you know George Bush senior biography, then go over to the wooden trinkets wooden trinkets only. And then that would be it. So I check out there. And then Jay walk across the street to the record store and I kind of made friends with the punk guy who worked there. And he would always smile at me when I walked in and I would go to the what was it called you know the new donated ones that were like categorized I’d flip the fuck through there and for some reason flipping through records like dries up my hands so then I’d always get like a paper cut or like my cuticles will get all fucked up, but it was worth the pain and so I’d go through those see if there’s anything good and then I go through like the alphabetical part and probably look for a doors record or something like that Fleetwood Mac you know me and then I’d go over to the movies see if they’re any good movies, sometimes they’d have like rock biographies and y’all already know I loved it over there. Then I check out and I had my fancy a little like membership card which would get me a dollar off off of all my purchases which was awesome and then I’d walk home and it was really fun in the summer because it would be so fucking hot and I’d be so miserable and sweaty but I’d have all my bags of stuff and sometimes I’d like to carry my records not in a bag that people driving by would see what I bought and think that I was so cool and then sometimes if I felt like it, I’d stop by Baskin-Robbins and get a milkshake but then I’d go home and put my records away maybe listen to one put my clothes in the washer probably like feed my dog lunch have a big old glass of water and then take a nap. And that was my ritual.

#voice 2 text

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thoughtsinblue · 9 months

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Orange Tango and Impermanence.

Back in my Johnny Bravo and Powerpuff Girl days, ice-cream was a rare occurrence, a treat, a once-in-a-while marvel of sugary satisfaction. But for most of my life, I've always correlated ice-cream with an acute sense of betrayal. For the longest time, I never experienced a sense of security in my choice of flavor, right until I adopted Mint and Chocolate-Chip as my go-to flavor at Baskin-Robbins. I remember my first betrayal. I used to get "Orange Tango" at B&R. That was my go-to flavor for years. One fine evening, as my parents and I exited from the theatre into the food court, we went to B&R, as was our ritual. My father knew me well. He didn't have to ask me what flavor I wanted. But, when my father placed our order, the employee replied with, "Oh, we don't have that flavor anymore." Turns out, I had Tango'd my last Orange. (It's not that bad of a joke, please.) I didn't have any ice-cream that day. I was devastated. I never got to have Orange Tango ever again.

When I think about it, maybe I just expected Orange Tango to always be there. It never occurred to me that I'd live to see a day when my favorite ice-cream flavor would just simply cease to exist. We take so many things for granted. We like to believe in the indefiniteness of things and ideas and people, only to realize that we've once again wrapped ourselves in a veil of delusions, just so we could maintain a semblance of control over our surroundings. Control, that we don't and won't ever possess. Things, ideas, and people are, by the very virtue of their existence, definite and limited. Yet we never seem to learn that lesson.

I truly envy those who can live in the moment. I remember this amazing snack back in the day called "Choco Bytes." It was sensational. Little pockets of wafer-like outer layer filled with chocolate. Not too sweet, just right. On my way back home from school, I'd buy a pack of those to have after lunch because I never liked vegetables, and I basically used Choco Bytes to Pavlov's-Dog myself into eating vegetables. I don't remember what they tasted like anymore, but I do remember looking forward to eating them. I remember being excited, until one day, just like Orange Tango, they too were discontinued. At first, I cursed my local shopkeeper for not keeping it. Then, I found out that it was discontinued altogether. First came Denial, then came Anger, followed by Bargaining, and after years of desperation, Acceptance.

Milan Kundera once wrote, "Einmal ist keinmal," - "What happens once might as well not have happened at all." I find this quote to be a critical insight into our lives. Here we are, completely lost to the value of once. We never seem to exist in the moment, never satisfied with once, chasing the dopamine rush like the addicts that we truly are. It doesn't help that we as a generation are absolutely addicted to social media. We try to live our life out as reel. In a twisted sense of instant gratification, we do things that we don't necessarily like but things that get attention. Even this supposed attention isn't exactly as straightforward as we think. It's rather an inquiry into how the other person could replicate that particular aesthetic.

It's ironic that I'd dish out poisonous opinions about social media, knowing full well that I'll share a link to this piece on my Instagram. But then again, nowhere is the truth any more illuminated than in one's own hypocrisy, no?

"Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on."

- Somewhere Only We Know, Keane

#ice cream #nostalgia #childhood memories #baskin robbins #betrayal #impermanence #living in the moment #acceptance #milan kundera #quotes #life lessons #social media #hipocracy #essay

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antvnger · 6 months

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Oh heck yeah! Let’s go! This was really hard to pick only five by the way.

In no particular order:

Peanut Butter ‘n Chocolate

Oreo ‘n Cold Brew

Snickers

Pralines ‘n Cream

Gold Medal Ribbon

Bonus: Triple Mango

Put “top 5” anything in my ask and I will answer ok go

@stxrked

#ask scott lang #scott lang #ant-man #stxrked #top five #top 5 #baskin robbins #baskin robbins always finds out #headcanon #ant man #antman

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tinydooms · 1 year

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For random asks, how about 24, 16, and the ever important 5? 🥰

24. which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

Both! When I lived in Germany, the schools preferred us to teach British English, though the students always asked for American English, so I grew pretty conversant in switching back and forth. The head of my first ever teaching job got mad at me for "always speaking American" and I had to tell her, "ma'am, I'm from California. I have never lived in England in my life. You knew this when you hired me. If it's going to be a problem, tell me now so that I can give you my notice and you can find an actual English person to do this job". She never brought it up again. :-)

Then five years later I moved to England and became even more familiar with it. I think this is a good thing, because it helps me to differentiate between nationalities in a subtle way when I'm writing stories; I can have the English speaker be subtly different from the American. "I was sat" will always sound weird to me, though. Obviously "I was sitting/seated" is the grammatically correct phrase! :-)

16. thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

Love it! It's one of my favorite flavors, particularly the green version put out my Baskin Robbins. A mint chocolate chip brownie sundae from them is THE BEST.

5. favorite form of potato?

Scalloped in lots of cheese. French fried (but not waffle fries) dipped in Ranch. Sliced into cheesy potato soup. Mashed when it's done really well. Love me my potatoes.

Weirdly specific ask game here!

#asks and answers #ask games #personal

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roamwithahungryheart · 2 years

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With those JD MM texts coming out and AH fans saying "see, we told you." I don't think they understand that you can be and asshole and still be someone who gets abused.

My brother is an absolute douchebag, especially since RvW. He was a douchebag before, but it's only gotten worse. That doesn't mean he wasn't abuse by his exwife who would try to poison him with uncooked meat. Or jump on him knee after having surgery, and keeping him up all night before he'd have to work because he wasn't "providing the prosperous American" kind of life she saw on TV before immigrating.

She still abused and treated him like shit even with him being a douche and saying douche things.

Am I brushing off the shit JD said, hell no. It's not okay. People do say some fucked up shit in texts, they expect it to be private. Like writing in a diary. Even anonymously online, people say shit when they don't expect it to be traced back to them.

I should have expected the horribleness of those texts after the Paul Bettany texts but wow, those were awful.

'You can be an asshole and still be someone who gets abused.'

100% 👏👏👏

Much in the same vein as separating the art from the artist, it's okay to acknowledge that someone is a terrible person while taking a stance that supports them in a very specific situation. That being said, it depends on just how terrible the person is. There are some people who really do deserve all the punishment they get for inflicting pain and abuse on others.

As for this comment - 'People do say some fucked up shit in texts, they expect it to be private. Like writing in a diary. Even anonymously online, people say shit when they don't expect it to be traced back to them.' OH BOY DO I KNOW IT (recent events, hello!).

Baskin-Robbins always finds out 😎 Everything you say reflects who you are at your core. Whether you like it or not. Some people refuse to be held accountable, and those are the people we need to make examples of to make sure nobody else falls into their traps and bullshit.

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motownfiction · 2 years

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always

The second time Steph finds herself in bed with Sam after their breakup is two days after Christmas in ‘86. They ran into each other at the mall, both doing returns (Steph for a sweater from her grandmother that she really didn’t like; Sam for a record he already had and wanted to exchange for a different one). That’s how it always goes. Steph finds herself in places where she thinks Sam could be, and Sam is always there. He’s frustrated by being so predictable, but he can’t help himself. He is a man of rhythm.

And oh, the rhythms of Sam.

This night was even better than the last one (over the summer, after running into each other at the neighboring Baskin-Robbins and Little Caesars). That one ended in Sam trying to sneak out of the kitchen with toast in his mouth and Steph running up to her childhood bedroom with tears in her eyes. Tonight is different. Tonight, Sam is here to stay.

They’re curled up in their usual position – Steph with her head on Sam’s chest, Sam flat on his back, gazing up at the ceiling. Steph buries her face as close to Sam’s skin as she can get it. She can’t help but laugh. Back again. Not together, but … back again.

“You know, sometimes, I’m not even sorry we broke up,” Sam says.

Steph sits up like she just heard a fire alarm.

“Don’t do this,” she says. “Not after … not after what happened last time.”

Sam sits up on his elbows and smiles at her, sleepy as ever. He’s too sweet. Steph almost has to pinch herself to keep from kissing him and forgiving everything, even the things she doesn’t understand.

“No, I don’t mean it like last time,” Sam says, looking at his hands on the blue bedsheets. “I mean … God, it’s just so great to look out there and … find you.”

Steph smiles. She knows Sam can be more poetic than that (and judging by the embarrassed look on his face, Sam knows it, too). But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s sweet. It doesn’t change the fact that there are a million more poetic feelings in the things he fails to say.

“I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that I’ve spent the past two years learning a thing or two from others,” Steph says, only halfway joking. “Not that I was on a walkabout for your benefit.”

“Oh, no,” Sam says. “Certainly not. And not that I was … basically a priest for yours.”

Steph snorts.

“Basically?”

“Weird road trip. Things you don’t need to know. Things even I wish I didn’t know, and I was the one who was knowing them.”

Steph laughs. That sounds like Sam to her. Not the weird road trip, but the strange vocabulary, the strange order of words. She puts her cheek to his chest again.

“Sometimes, I am sorry we broke up,” she says. “And I mean that in all the ways I meant last summer.”

She feels Sam’s heavy sigh underneath her face.

“I know,” he says. “Sometimes, I’m sorry, too.”

They sigh together, each looking up at the ceiling as though it’s the wide open sky. Steph pictures a sunrise above them – her middle name, Dawn. She wonders if Sam ever thinks of her when the sun comes up. Judging by his tenderness tonight, she likes to think he does.

“How long do you think we’re gonna keep doing this before we figure it out?” Steph asks, almost out of nowhere, almost surprising herself.

Sam laughs a little.

“How long are we gonna keep doing what?” he asks. “Sleeping together and then leaving each other behind for the next six months?”

“Something like that,” Steph says. “What were you thinking?”

Sam pauses. After a little while, Steph thinks he’ll never speak again. But then, Sam surprises her. Typical Sam.

“I dunno,” he says. “I guess I was thinking … how long are we gonna keep loving each other before we figure it out?”

Steph feels her stomach tense and lurch. The last time she and Sam used the word love in front of each other, she wound up in tears. But it doesn’t feel like that tonight. Tonight is lighter than air, and Steph knows she’s OK. She knows she can tell him the truth.

“Always,” she says.

She feels Sam smile with every bone in his body, even his ribcage. Even though it’s a tricky sentiment – one that suggests they’ll never figure it out – it still means something. It still means that Steph Armstrong is attached to Sam Doyle, like pieces of paper glued together and then pulled apart. Steph’s always been good with it. She’ll always be good with it.

She has no way of knowing what it will come to mean.

For now, it’s just there. Just like her. Just like Sam.

#drabble #writeblr #ch: steph armstrong #ch: sam doyle #ship: forever afternoon #year: 1986

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mysticmoonhowler · 16 days

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The Last Time I Saw Emmett Ray...

...was a couple of years ago. His face popped up out of nowhere, on my little tv screen I kept in my living room, only for the news, and a couple of cable channels. He was celebrating 15 years of owning and operating a ranch. A ranch, just like his daddy wanted him to. Just the same thing he was so set against when we were 18, swearing up and down he wouldn’t be caught dead as a farmer, a rancher, anything that required an alarm before 8 in the morning or a shovel stained with dirt. And there he was, t-shirt over worn jeans and a faded baseball hat stuck to his head. Before he wore it because he hated looking people in the eye, now I’m sure he’s hiding a balding head. At least I hope so. But he still looked the same, that same lopsided smile, that same way he tucks his hands into his front pockets that always made me wanna pull them out. And he was easy to find. That’s for sure. He changed his name, Ray Charles now, like the singer. He always did want to work with music, guess he never got the balls to do anything close to it except hide behind the name of someone who could. I saw his ranch, I saw his wife, and his kid.

They were all walking into the Baskin Robbins for ice cream. He really hadn’t changed much, the years seemed to have been good to him despite what he left behind in our old town. Despite how he left me to pay for his mess. I wonder if he paid for the ranch with the money from our deal, the one job we were supposed to pull off before we headed west and got lost in the sun. I wonder if his daughter is as happy as I wanted my baby sister to be. I bet she is.

After I saw his little family all together, I started thinking how unfair it all was. I started thinking up ways to make sure he knew I was still around, a couple he never even noticed I was there. So far gone in his memory I must’ve been, a glance wouldn’t have been enough I guess. Then I decided to stand right there in the grocery store, right where I knew he’d see me. Dressed just the way I was when we were kids. Dressed just like that day I got shoved into a police car and my life went to shit and his just moved a couple states over. I wasn’t going to let him get off scott free, he couldn’t have thought that either. He must’ve known I would be back, he wouldn’t’ve changed his name otherwise. He must’ve gotten nice and comfortable here though, all those years I was in prison. Thinking I wouldn’t make it out, thinking I would have forgotten. But here I am.

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nickgerlich · 8 months

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Make Me A Sammich

Sometimes too much of a good thing can be a bad thing. You can reach saturation as well as satiation. You can only consume so much of anything, no matter how good it is.

Just ask the folks at Subway, the sandwich shop chain that recently sold to Roark Capital. The seemingly ubiquitous chain once had more than 27,000 shops in the US alone. In recent years it has trimmed some fat, and was down to 20,576 at the end of 2022. In many regards, this fast-food outlet is the Dollar General of dining. By comparison, Dollar General has more than 19,000 stores across the US.

To put things in better perspective, Subway dwarfs industry giant McDonald’s, which has 13,514 units across the nation. It’s just that Subway shops have always been smaller, and could easily fit into strip centers, seldom appearing in freestanding structures.

The family-owned chain had been trying to sell itself since last winter, and Roark, a private equity firm, reached an agreement to scoop them up for north of $9 billion. And always mentioned in the same breath is that Roark also owns Dunkin.

What they don’t tell us, though, is that Roark is a growing giant in fast food. It owns Inspire Brands, which owns—drumroll, please—not just Dunkin, but also Arby’s, Baskin-Robbins, Sonic, Jimmy Johns, and Buffalo Wild Wings. If this is beginning to sound like an empire, you would be right in your assessment. About the only thing missing from their portfolio is pizza.Give them a little time, and I bet they will fix that.

I do find it odd that they bought a sandwich chain when they already own Jimmy Johns. How they handle having two in the same domain is yet to be determined. But, it is possible through product and market differentiation that they can make both viable.

As for Subway, they had grown as stale as week-old bread. Their menu seldom changed, quality lagged, and the old $5 foot-long made it tough for franchisees to actually make money. As much as their audience-of-one model was great, and their “sandwich artist” motif appealing, it just became a tired concept. Competitors like Jersey Mike’s, Firehouse, and Quiznos were eating their lunch, offering far tastier and innovative menu items. Oh, and never mind the PR black eye when spokesperson Jared Fogle was convicted. It didn’t help.

I suspect that Roark will continue right-sizing the chain as it seeks to reinvent the brand. How it shakes out those franchisees is anyone’s guess, but it needs to be done. There was a time when Subway had such low costs of entry that practically anyone could afford it, and Subway would happily sell you a franchise, even if you were right across the street from your grandmother’s Subway shop. Their more-is-better strategy worked for a while, even if it did nothing to ensure a degree of local exclusivity.

And the comparison to Dollar General is fair. While DG is corporately-opened, the company typically opens stores where others will not or cannot, including rural areas and impoverished inner-city neighborhoods. Subway also opens shops where it might be the only franchised chain for miles, if only because the costs of entry are low.

But as I said earlier, too much of a good thing can turn sour. How many more Dollar General stores can we possibly support? And how many more sub sandwiches can we eat?

Good for Roark on its latest acquisitions. PE firms typically buy distressed companies, turn them around, and then sell them. Thus far, Roark appears to be intent on adding to its portfolio. There may be too much money to be made by just keeping them all. In fact, its ghost kitchen in Atlanta demonstrates both sheer genius as well as huge profit potential by combining all of its brands under one roof. And the food made under that roof is available only by delivery.

I see good things ahead for Subway. Roark is no Johnny-come-lately, and has the chops to prove it. Make me a tasty veggie sandwich on Italian, and I’ll call it good. Foot-long, of course.

Dr “And That’s A Good Thing, Not A Bad Thing” Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #Subway #Roark Capital #fast food

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dietcokengineer · 9 months

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she was a pain in my neck

Hi Gang! Today my neck felt a little bit better than the last few days, I used one of those therapy gun things that oscillate quickly to break down any knots, and it seemed to help quite a bit! I also figured out that it's more likely than not my traps (spelling?) that are seizing for one reason or another. I don't know, that's where it feels the tightest when I turn my neck side to side at least. I really hope it's better for tomorrow, I'm scheduled to work, but if my neck is in any condition like it was a few mornings ago I might need to call in sick. I always hate calling in sick, I feel like such a burden. If i had to guess it's a bit of lingering anxiety from working at Loblaws, which was a really negative environment, and it was at a time where I really wasn't doing too hot with both my mental and physical health. I'm doing better now, but I still feel bad. Could also just be some lingering trauma from my short stint with chronic pain (title of my memoir lmao), but I find that whenever I tell myself that I can do it, I can. I can! I can! I can!!!!! Otherwise, I haven't been up to much, other than prepping for college. I made a little list of all my essentials that I want to bring from home. I'm considering buying a new pair of headphones, like a nice pair of over-the-ear ones. Like, the kind that are a little expensive, but you know they're good, sorta thing. I'm looking at some ones from Sony and they're around what I would expect to pay, but I just missed out on a sale so I might wait until they go back on sale, or maybe some sort of Back to School thing; it's very much a want and not a need, which I know isn't how you're supposed to spend money in university, but I'm not sure I really want them, and I've literally, for as long as I can remember wanted a pair. I'm feeling a bit more agoraphobic than normal as well, idk, everything seems a bit cold and a bit unsettling; but we move. My university does like a refresher math course over summer vacation for I believe the students in my faculty because the rate at which the curriculum develops and the professors teach is faster than the rate of your normal high school environment. I'm working through it, but I wish I was a bit more efficient with my time; practice is definitely needed, but I have 4.67 years to develop it so I think I should be good! I stopped watching the bear for whatever reason, but now I'm onto watching those limited series on Netflix about crazy stuff that's all based on true stories: 10/10 tbh. A new hobby of mine is listening to jazz music and reading Fran Lebowitz books; makes me feel like a real New Yorker, and my late grandmother; oops, love you bestie! I'm bringing my fan to my dorm room, but I'm realizing only in this very moment that I don't know if I'll have somewhere to put her. I'm not even sure why I'm writing these little posts, it just feels good to have a little moment to write down exactly what I'm thinking in a way that feel natural, but not as involved as writing in a diary. Anyways, Hi t4t baskin robbins

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