#Dm Mau

[famouslook1987]

मृतक होमगार्ड की आश्रित को जिलाधिकारी ने दिए 34 लाख का चेक

संवाददाता:- राजेश गुप्ता मऊ/संसद वाणी : सड़क दुर्घटना में मृत होमगार्ड हरीराम यादव (रतनपुरा कंपनी) की पत्नी को जिलाधिकारी ने 34 लाख का चेक मंगलवार को दि��ा। होमगार्ड हरीराम की ड्यूटी मई 2024 में यूपी 112 में चालक के रूप में लगायी गयी थी। दिनांक 25/26 मई की रात्रि में ड्यूटी प्वाइंट चेकिंग के दौरान गि‌ट्टी लदे ट्रक के मोटर साईकिल पर पलट जाने के कारण श्री यादव की मृत्यु हो गयी थी। उनकी आश्रिता…

[lalalaugenbrot]

Neue Review!

Meiner Meinung nach nicht besonders spoilerig, was Adam & Leo etc. angeht, man erfährt aber einiges mehr über den Fall bzw. Leos Undercover-Arbeit. Also: lesen auf eigene Gefahr!

[tulxity]

maus lika da fraises

[rudnitskaia]

Invincible

A few days ago my dear @lansayn asked me about how and when Rocky and Mau (my Lackadaisy OC, here is the character sheet) would have showed their devotion to each other for the first time and as an answer I wrote a short fic for him (860 words in total). Its concept mainly relies on the Lackadaisy comic pages Whirlwind and Doggerel.

You can find it under the cut. ✨

“Good evening, Miss Maura,” sounded the familiar voice at the entrance. “The weather's a little rough, isn't it?”

Rocky hadn't shown up at the Venza’s eatery in a week, and frankly, for Mau it had been one of the most unpleasantly silent weeks in St. Louis. She wasn't expecting him to show up today, either; it was only a dozen minutes before the eatery was about to close. Mau had even thought about taking a break in the next few days and going to look for Rocky herself, considering that in one of their recent conversations he had finally accidentally mentioned the name of the café where he worked. Luckily, now it was possible to properly question him without doing so.

“Had the wayfaring Mister Rickaby decided to…?”

But when Mau, who had been tucking the cups under the counter, looked up, the smile on her face faded as quickly as it had appeared.

The eyes of the sickly pale Rocky seemed bottomless glassy because of the dark circles under them. And his smile... that formerly cheerful smile had turned into eerie one. The way he tensely leaned on the counter and glared at Mau made everything inside her shatter. Beneath the fedora that he hadn't bothered, or rather hadn't wanted to take off at all, a fresh wound was visible on Rocky's forehead.

No matter what exactly had happened, it was clear that it was no good.

Mau silently grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. He didn't pull away his own, but shook his head and murmured with a grin:

“What if the formidable Mister Venza sees us?”

“It would be an occasion to introduce you then.”

So many worries, so many questions swirled in her head, but they all melted away from the fact that Rocky was alive. Mau stared at his face for a while longer, and he was looking into her eyes, too, with a strained, crooked smile. It was as if he was trying to brush the unspoken questions off with that look; it's no big deal, just a trivial case. But it was plain as day that it was just an empty bravado. Rocky lowered his gaze to their hands and began to drum his fingers as if playing a tune on the back of Mau's hand.

“I'm afraid I'm in a time crunch. I would like to pick up one ginger biscuit before it rains, so he doesn't soak too much. His dear mother will put me through the wringer if he even sneezes. But it seems your coffee is the only thing that can relieve me of my deathly drowsiness. Spare just a lil?”

With a frown, Mau pulled her hand away.

“What do you think of yourself, coming in here like this and pretending that nothing has happened?” she whispered frustratedly, almost not caring if her father heard them from the kitchen. “You expected that I won't notice your condition? That I’d probably start to jokingly rant that your forehead is like an overripe pumpkin?”

Rocky shrugged and hummed, looking away.

“An eggplant. Given the way you've phrased the sentence, it is better to say 'like an overripe eggplant'.”

Mau’s lips formed into a thin line. As Rocky avoided her question, she gave him a long intense stare, unable to put into words the storm of emotions that raged inside her. She was angry. No, she was furious from helplessness. What she could say to him? Don't go? He won't listen. Press his conscience that he was dragging his cousin into dangerous ventures? As if he wasn't aware of it himself. Tell him that some paltry booze isn't worth a ruined life? But from the shards that Mau gathered from their talks it was clear that this was exactly the thing he was currently breathing with. You can't take away a man's air, even if that air was much more alike to a stifling smoke.

This time words were useless. Words won’t convince, won’t give any significant reasons.

But maybe the actions could.

Gathering all her courage, Mau stepped out from behind the counter and stopped in front of Rocky. He looked at her curiously at first, and then with surprise as she took his fedora off him and dropped it on the counter. Carefully, without touching the stitches, Mau adjusted his slightly messy hair to keep it from falling over the wound, and then gently pressed her lips to his forehead. Before Rocky could say anything, she calmly stated:

“Here's the thing, Roark. We're closing up. I promise to make you some coffee tomorrow. But I hate to break my promises, so whatever reckless thing you’re going to do tonight, do your best to save me the trouble of selling my soul to the devil to fulfill it.”

Rocky took a step back. Silently grabbed his fedora from the counter and slowly moved toward the exit. Even though he still was visibly unwell, now his whole figure was filled with some kind of impulse. It was as if something subtly lit up in his eyes. A confidence.

“Miss Venza, count it as a vow. I know I’m invincible now.”

[indomart]

Indeed bang, spt kata bijak yg saya temukan di Twitter, tinggal sama ortu gratis, bayarnya pake mental health 🙏🏻

BETHUL BGT KAK MOGS😭😭👍👍

[parasite-core]

A vargouille is one of the first monsters I ever fought in pathfinder nearly a decade ago. My ranger Vespa shot it through the mouth and it died before it could do any real damage.

The next time I fought a vargouille, it got smashed into a door like an egg.

Tonight my PC got paralyzed straight out of the door against a vargouille and almost died to its transformative kiss.

Oh how the turn tables.

[yawnderu]

Cat and Mouse — König x Reader

CW: porn with barely any plot, primal play, hunter and prey, rough sex, previous consent, established relationships, anal fingering, König is too in love to fuck you hard, love-making.

A/N: I'm taking a very short break after this one, trying to work on my writer's block and to come up with better ideas. My inbox and dms are always open, I love getting random asks and talking to all of you!♡

The wind blew on your hair as you ran through the woods, barely managing to narrowly miss the trees when you turn back, the giant man chasing after you standing out easily— his imposing figure looking even more intimidating under the moonlight.

His cocky laugh encourages you to run faster, your heart beating in your ears when you hear him start chasing after you again, legs already exhausted from running nonstop for the past ten minutes, never once losing sight of the masked man matter how fast you ran. He was simply faster, with a better stamina that came from being a soldier most of his life. You gasp for air, lungs greedily taking in the oxygen as the world starts to blur out, the muffled sounds of nature around you doing nothing to help as you manage to find the strength to run.

"Get over here!" His loud voice overpowered your surroundings, burly arms wrapping around your waist before manhandling you onto the ground, holding you still no matter how much you tried to kick and scream.

In a pathetic attempt to escape him you throw a punch to his face that connects square on his jaw, the man's grip on you loosening slightly out of shock. You take the chance to try to run away again, barely managing to get on your knees before he's pushing your face down onto the cold, moist soil, the strong smell nulling your senses so bad you don't feel him pulling down your pants until the cold wind hits your bare cunt.

"Caught you, kleine maus." He taunts in a whisper, running one of his gloved fingers up and down your cunt, spreading the wetness all over it before he wets his thumb, pressing onto your puckered hole.

"Wait—" His hand comes down to deliver a hard slap to your ass, the whine of protest you let out doing nothing but make the blood rush faster to his cock. He manages to get his thumb in, fucking it in and out of your ass. You bite your hand in an attempt to muffle your tiny moans, the stimulation of all the nerves being touched by his thick thumb already getting to you, feeling your wet cunt clench around nothing, making the tall man behind you let out an amused, taunting laugh.

"Little mouse likes getting chased around like an animal, ja?" He's clearly trying to get into your head and it's working, not even protesting when you hear his zipper being pulled down, his heavy cock laid out on your ass. König is huge— you've seen it way too many times, felt it way too many times, yet it never fails to surprise you.

"Well, spatzi, you act like an animal—" His words are interrupted by a muffled groan, his cock sinking into you slowly, yet it's so painfully tight he never got used to it. He groaned as he finally bottomed out, a sharp hiss mixing in with your moaning.

"You get treated like one." He finished his sentence, his free hand holding onto the curve of your waist, fingers bruising the skin as he began to thrust into you, movements fast and desperate, your warm insides feeling way too good.

"Fuck— slow down, König." You plead pathetically even when that's the opposite of what you truly want, feeling the tip of his cock slam into the spongy spot of your cunt over and over, whiny moans mixing in with his loud groans and growls.

"No can do, Schatz." You can hear the shit-eating smirk he has under the sniper hood, almost making you smile before he starts to slam his hips into you faster, pulling his cock out all the way before slamming himself back in. You're reduced to a pathetic moaning mess as König drills into your cunt, hitting every single sensitive bundle of nerves along the way to hit your cervix.

He pulls out suddenly, making you feel empty for a second before he manhandles you onto your back, taking a second to admire your pretty, fucked-out face and body. One of his warm hands comes down to cup your cheek, thumb caressing the skin softly before he slowly pushes into you, this time much more gentle. Truth is, König wanted to fuck you. He wanted to fuck you good and hard, yet how can he resist the urge to make love to you when you look up at him with nothing but trust and adoration in your eyes?

"Pretty girl." He muses, holding his weight above you as his hips roll against yours, pushing himself deep inside with every single thrust. He's nothing like before— all the adrenaline from chasing you down fully gone as he simply focuses on making love to you, light blue eyes looking down at you with nothing short of raw devotion. Your legs wrap around his defined waist and he fucks into you harder, one of his gloved hands coming down between your bodies to rub on your hard clit.

"Fuck—" Your back arches, hips moving weakly to meet his thrusts, the double stimulation driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, my pretty girl." His masked lips are planted on your forehead for a soft kiss, his fingers rubbing faster and faster as he feels his cock twitch, wanting nothing else than to finish inside you.

"Can I come inside, liebling? Want me to fill you up...?" His masked face is buried into the crook of your neck, eyes closed tightly as he tried his best to get your consent before cumming.

"Need— need to cum inside. Fill you up with my babies, please." He was now getting whiny, images of your tummy stretched out carrying his baby with your tits full of milk raid his brain, numbing him out to everything around him other than the way your tight cunt suck him in.

"Yes— cum inside, baby." Your arms wrap around his neck while your thighs hold him on a leg lock, pushing him even deeper into your cunt, not allowing his stuttering hips to pull out much as he ruts into you, his fingers going back to rub your clit, your bodies uniting as one in a display of love and passion, orgasms hitting together like a tidal wave. Your cunt tightens up around him, his balls emptying all the way deep inside you, a low growl coming out of his lips.

He tries his best not to collapse on top of you, managing to pull out slowly and lay down next to you, pulling you closer to him. He takes deep breaths, his big hand gently massaging your scalp before looking down at you, meeting your gaze. You can't see it because of the mask, yet the way his eyes soften and turn into crescents is enough for you to know he's smiling.

[xxetherealsweetheartxx]

AUSTRIAN HEADCANONS FOR KÖNIG AND KRUEGER

By someone who lived her whole life in austria (The only reason I'm writing this is because some of the things you guys write about them just because they're austrian is sterotypical/borderline racist, google is free)

✿First of all, it’s not common for austrians/germans to call partners MEIN liebling/Schatz, you don’t have to write the meine/r. Also König would NOT call you Maus/Mäuschen, I literally heard no one ever say that in a romantic context

✿I don’t think König or Krueger are from Vienna. König strikes me as someone from Burgenland and Krueger from Salzburg. 

✿Considering König is at least 40 years old, he won’t say “Hallo” but rather “Servus/Grüß Gott”, is greeting most middle aged/old people use.

✿For football (soccer) clubs I think König would be a Rapid fan and Krueger a FC Red Bull Salzburg fan.

✿Both are avid almdudler drinkers. (A lemonade soda drink with herbs (it’s so good))

✿Kruger’s favorite food from his home country is Kaiserschmarrn and Apfelstrudel (He has a sweet tooth)

✿König loves Frittaten soup and Mohnnudeln (Me 2). His mom made the soup often and everytime he eats it, he gets the biggest nostalgia trip.

✿Realistically I’m pretty sure König’s dialect would be so fat I’d barely understand it. Krueger’s would be more understandable. ✿König wouldn't listen to anything too heavy, the most he'll listen is Rammstein, but as a teen. As an adult he loves songs like "Griechischer Wein" by Udo Jürgens and generally austropop ✿Krueger secretly listens to austrian Schlager, but his favourite radio station would be 88.6 (A rock/metal radio station) ✿König would often do ski vacation is Tirol, mostly Kitzbühl (If you're a writer and you're unsure how to incorperate their country in writing, you can DM me. Don't be uneducated and write something about austria/austrians that is not true.)

[pampushky]

and I hate the way the townspeople gather outside

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 4 - 5.5k words

And we're back baby! Warnings for this chapter: uh, just lore building. Lando thinks maus is lying lol. apologies for the possibly incorrect german, I'm rather rusty on it lol, but I'm brushing back up on it lol

oh and eggroll the service hound is a queen ofc.

also in need of more beta readers. dm if interested.

don't worry it'll make sense soon...ish

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The Previous Day, 2024. Sakhir, Bahrain.

Lando Norris watches the conveyor belt at the baggage claim, standing next to Oscar. The Australian’s arms are folded. You’re casually drinking a tall can of Red Bull as if you hadn’t gotten them into this situation, with a hands-free leash looped around you like a cross-body bag, connected to your little beagle, sitting patiently at your feet.

His eye twitches when another bit of luggage comes out that’s not his.

“Doesn’t your sire literally own a private jet company?”

“Not anymore. He sold it. Gained quite a bit of money from it.” You shrug. Offering a sip of the can to Oscar, who actually takes a hard drink from it, tipping his head back. “Besides. I fly normally most of the time. Better for the environment, no?”

“Who gives a shit about the environment?” 

“I do. I actually quite like to hike.” You frown as you look at him, brow furrowing. Your beagle yawns. “So does Seb. Didn’t you flirt with him your first year?” 

“I did what— no! He was like my grid dam!” Lando screeches, almost immediately trying to banish the images of Sebastian and himself in any type of relationship beside that of a rookie and a veteran driver mentorship. 

“Ah.” You nod slightly, and then go back to looking at the baggage claim. Studying it. “We flew business anyway. Why are you so pissy about it?” 

“We could have flown private or— or at least first class!” 

“Why, though?” You tilt your head at him. Momentarily scowling at Oscar as he’s drunk all of your Red Bull— a fact only discovered when you try to take a drink for yourself. “It’s not even a long flight, just seven hours.”

“Seven hours is a long time,” Lando chuffs, folding his arms across his chest. “I need to be able to lay down!”

“Okay, next time, we’ll fly first class,” Oscar buts in, already trying to smooth things over between the two of you. You almost look offended until Oscar glares at you from the corner of his eye, which gets you to bite down on your cheek. “Lando can schedule that.”

“Fine.” Lando sniffs, watching as more luggage lands on the conveyor belt. “But we are so upgrading to first for the flight home.”

“But that’ll cost extra,” you whine, which makes the dog at your feet snort. Lando silently decides that your beagle is on his side, in this argument, even if you don’t acknowledge it.

“Compromises, Mousey,” Oscar just puts one of his hands on the top of your head, the way an older litter mate might do to quiet an argument. It’s quite funny for Lando to watch, especially with the little huff you let out, conceding. “Compromises.”

The little smirk that Lando gives you nearly makes you growl, until Oscar just pushes down on your head a bit harshly, saying something about grabbing his bag and leaving the two of you alone. 

“So….” Lando starts, standing a bit awkwardly as you both watch Oscar struggle with his frankly oversized duffle bag. Your dog has now sat back down at your feet, watching the Aussie nearly fall over himself. “Mousey?”

“Oh my god,” you rub your face in frustration and prepare to clobber Oscar for revealing that to Lando. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“What is it?” Lando grins widely, suddenly finding a new way to torment you. To possibly break down the walls you have set up, all in the interest as making yourself seem like a hardass. “Like— some pet name, from your Oscie?”

“My Oscie?!” You screech, just as the Australian in question lets out a loud ‘oof’ from where he’s finally managed to lift the duffel, only for it to get caught on someone else's luggage, forcing him to walk awkwardly beside it while trying to unhook it from the other bag. Both yourself and Lando watch in partial amusement on Lando’s part and disappointment on yours. “Do you think I’m— oh, no, that actually makes sense you think I’m dating him,” You murmur, more to yourself, before looking at him stoicly, as if to clear it up. “That idiot is more like my littermate.” 

“Hey! He’s not that bad, he’s quite smart.”

As if to prove him wrong, Oscar somehow stumbles over his own feet, and falls onto the conveyor belt, now moving along with all the luggage, looking somewhat surprised at his new situation.

“Okay, so he’s got some quirks,”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” you watch as Oscar just sits on the conveyor belt for a few seconds, as if relaxing, before realizing he’s tangled the strap of his duffel bag around himself. “Besides— he’s courting someone.” You follow Oscar’s movement on the conveyor belt as he further entangles himself. “And as for Mousey… it’s a stupid name the media gave me. Because my Sisi was die Ratte, so I was called die Maus.”

“Why not like— Rat two, or Rat junior?” Lando’s brow furrows. He seems genuinely confused about the nickname, instead focusing on how it didn’t seem to make sense to him. Oscar’s adventures and struggles with the luggage are completely forgotten to him, while the poor omega finally manages to free himself from the conveyor belt.

“Ich weiß nicht. The media is dumb.” You mumble. Not looking at him for fear of him calling your bluff. 

But you do know the origins. 

Before your identity was made public, a picture had leaked of you, when you were still healing. A rare moment when you were allowed outside of the hospital to get some sunlight, and to slowly introduce you to the new country you were now living in, Mathias and Lukas doing their best to amuse you.

The picture had been you, sitting on Niki’s lap, looking tiny and frightened by how loud Vienna was, despite sitting on a bench in a park near the hospital.

Your eyes were wide. Your little face was still bandaged, your hair shorn close to your scalp, and your hands so heavily wrapped in bandages that it made you look like you were wearing white mittens as your wounds healed. Sitting on Niki’s lap, oblivious to the paparazzi, while your sire was looking at the camera straight on, the calculating fury on his face a heavy contrast to your wide-eyed anxiety and innocence. Flinching at every noise that wasn’t something familiar, with a shy smile on your lips as you stretched a bandaged-wrapped hand towards Mathias. 

How had it been leaked? 

Published to the press not a day later, the front page of some gossip magazine Niki had sued into oblivion. But that was the first picture of you the public had ever seen, tucked under the headline: “Die Ratte und das Mäuschen!” The rat and the little mouse. 

The article itself was just blatant gossip. Theorizing about where you’d come from, based on the fact he’d just recently flown to the United States and returned not even a month ago. Who you were to Niki to make him so protective of you— and what an unfortunate event it was that such a pretty young girl was to be branded with the same scars Niki bore. 

Had Lando ever seen the picture before? Probably not. But you could never be certain. Especially not with your last name, and the weight it carried in motorsport. Not with how freely any information the media got its hands on became public knowledge. 

“I agree,” Lando said tartly, snapping you out of your little dissociative state. Eggroll sitting at your feet, now aware and pressing a paw to your shin. Alerting that you were experiencing the start of a dissociative episode. Not that Lando knew that part— he probably just assumed it was a pet asking for attention. “Is your dog… asking for Red Bull?”

“She’s alerting. I had a trigger, or something,” You mumble, already going to lower yourself to the ground so she can sit in your lap to help keep you calm, her weight reassuring and familiar. “Eggroll’s my service dog.” 

Before Lando can even question the fact that you have a service dog, and further, the fact that they dog's name is Eggroll, Oscar finally lets out a yelp for assistance, now pulling your bag and Lando’s from the claim, looking like he’s going to get pulled onto the little conveyor belt again by his bag.

The older driver rushes over, forgetting about Eggroll and your mystery disability that required you to have her, helping Oscar pull the two remaining bags off the track. And by the time they’re both heading back towards you, you’re standing up again, and Eggroll is alert by your side, and Lando’s already forgotten about the little talk you’d both had. 

Two Days Later, 2024. Sakhir, Bahrain. 

It’s the second day of pre-season testing. Everything is terrible. You’d always hated testing out your ideas and putting a driver in the seat. A chance to have all of your carefully laid calculations and strategies, brought to you by countless other mechanics and engineers, and then having to make the hard decisions on what should actually be included. Or. That’s what it was like at Williams. No one would dare say it to your face— but they underestimated you. You were, firstly, the child of a wealthy and famous Formula One legend. Secondly, a woman. And third, your worst crime, an incredibly well-educated and blunt omega who would never back down when you knew you were right about something. 

The Williams team who worked with you always seemed to regard you with thinly veiled loathing. Jealousy. You’d applied under an assumed name, wanting to strike out on your own without your sire’s name attached to you, cutting the symbolic umbilical cord. They’d already removed the fact that gender wouldn’t be taken into account, much less your designation. When you’d shown up, with James to back you up after you’d gotten the job, and the proof to show that all of the accolades under your name were your own, he had immediately sunk his teeth in. The investigation had revealed just how much he’d whispered about you to the rest of the team. The lies told about you from the very first moment you’d stepped in the garage. He had orchestrated it all as if it were part of his plan to have you as his mate, stuck in his web from the moment you’d joined Williams.

Only Alex had been truly welcoming. Understanding the struggles of your stepping up and the jump into Formula One after finishing your masters. And Nick… he’d been nice enough. A bit awkward. But that was alright. You’d both commiserate over being considered “outsiders” to the Europeans, occasionally joining Lance at separate events when the isolation grew to be too much.

But you were at least partially European. A dual citizen in the United States and Austria. And your name helped to at least cover more of the disappointment in your parentage, or what the public knew about. 

You were a Lauda. Plain and simple. 

The last name Lauda originated in the Latin language. Likely from the word Lauds. The Morning Office. The first prayers of the day in the old, old ways of the Catholic Church. A Lauda was someone who sang the praises of a god you’re not quite certain you or your sire even believed in anymore. 

You’d seen the way his hands twisted when he’d prayed after one-to-many accidents. How his head bowed lower with each life or career-ending injury of some promising motorsport legend. The way he had cursed and screamed and raged after Jules Bianchi had died. You were almost 15. The funeral had been quiet. 

All you remembered was how broken the F3 driver had looked as he touched the coffin before it was pushed into the vault. 

Lauda became a name that people sang praises about. Raising your beloved Sisi on their shoulders and holding their hands together, clasped in worship when they saw him in the holy red and prancing black horse on a golden background. And you. The little Lauda, the new light of the family. They stared at you and whispered as if you already had a halo about your little head, shining bright enough to hide the mottled scars on your jawline and neck, your wide eyes more reminiscent of a little mouse than the slick, calculating rat your Sisi was.

The drivers cried for his guidance there. Micheal would lean and talk with him in hushed tones, with you balanced precariously between the two of them. There’d been a picture of you looking up at the two of them from where you sat between them, as if you could understand what they were discussing. Already trying to figure out a solution to the worries that creased your Sire’s brow, and to make your uncle smile. It’d made its rounds on social media when Williams announced you were going to be a Race Engineer starting in 2021. Now with your halo photoshopped in. 

To extol. Everyone wanted to see another Lauda charge forward in a car, backed by a legendary team. McLaren or Ferrari, they didn’t care, the media just wanted to see you from the moment your identity became public. 

That’s what everyone wanted. 

But the notebooks stacked by you state a different story. An alternative ending. The true ending. The way your eyes watered from the thick contacts being in too long. But the glasses caused too much of a glare when you were out in the sun. The twitching of your hands and the lack of the compression gloves that’s stopped them from aching. 

You would not be charging forward with a team in a car. But you could atleast guide them. 

That’s what you liked more, anyway. It was what you could do. 

What you wanted to do. 

A mechanic drops a wrench behind you, snapping you from your daze. Lando talking over the radio as you sit along the pitlane wall. 

You haven’t spoken once. Just watching and listening carefully as Will walks Lando through a practice run to get an idea of what McLaren ran like. The Alpha smiles at you warmly, lifting up one side of the headphones. You follow suit, intent on listening to whatever advice he may give. Even if you plan on turning everything on its head.

“Lando does quite well with positive reinforcement! It’s really been able to drive him to success in the past,” Will explains, his voice soft and his eyes kind even as he glances at the screens with all of their data. “Would you like to try? There’s no time like the present—“

“I’d rather not,” you murmur, looking back at the screens. He was doing alright. But not what you expected out of the current car. Not with what all the calculations and simulations had been saying. Positive reinforcement or not, the results were lackluster at best, and you weren’t about to reward him for pretty much just taking the car out for a joyride when he was supposed to be getting you data to work with and to use for strategies. “I thank you for the advice. But his data is not looking good.”

“What does she mean it’s not looking good?” Lando’s voice crackles through the headsets. “That was my best lap yet!”

“I mean it’s not looking good.” Your words are blunt as ever. Will’s face seems to drop at your… rather indelicate speech. “You’re not following the race line, and you’re taking the corners much too fast. You’re just playing around with the car, honestly.”

“Better than losing speed.”

“Tell the mechanics that when you crash. You’re driving the car like it’s the shitbox you had from five years ago.”  

Will visibility winces at that comment, and Zak just raises an eyebrow as he listens in on your conversation. Andrea laughs. Then you can hear the huff Lando lets out, actively taking another corner and nearly clipping the front wing on the railing. You hear a few yelps from the mechanics behind you for the close call. 

“Rude.”

“It’s the truth. You’re understeering like crazy right now due to how fast you’re taking the corners. I’m literally looking at the data to prove it.” You close your notebook, the final page filled with ink scrawls of notes you’d taken. No more notes. Only bluntness. “Do you want to be a champion? Or are you content to be Lando Nowins?”

“You’re a fucking dickhead, you know that?” Lando starts to take the corners even faster as if to spite you. But he’s following the set path much closer now. Your brow furrows. “Just let me fucking drive!”

“Stop taking the corners fast. You will make your own calls when you have at least four wins to your name.” You snap back, adjusting the mic to be a bit closer. “A single win can be a fluke. Match your number and we will talk.”

“Just let me fucking drive!” Lando roars, the radio crackling from how loud he shouts. Another near miss with the railing seems to scare him straight, responding curtly to you as you start to give him guidance. And you just smirk, folding your hands in front of you as you watch the data start to turn upwards, Will beside you, looking shocked as you seemingly force Lando’s hand into doing better.

“He gets positive reinforcement for doing well. Not for throwing tantrums.” You say to him, muting yourself so that Lando won’t hear the little comment. Still facing forward. Will’s face flushes slightly, and Zak just leans in a bit closer, looking at the notebook you’d written in. 

“He’s not a dog for you to train,” Will mutters. “Not like that American you worked with.”

“Watch it,” your voice is cold, and your eyes narrowed to slits as you look at him. It’s bad enough that you’re already tired, and that your eyes hurt from the contacts. But having someone drag Logan’s name through the mud when he wasn’t there to defend himself nearly makes you snap, pulling your teeth back over your lips, your scarred skin making your mouth almost seem lopsided, with the way it creases under the heavy makeup you used to even out the bumps, not looking quite right to those who are too close to you. “I have my ways. You have yours. But I am the one with the job now.”

You just focus back on the screen above you, calmly giving directions to Lando, who complies with sullen responses. When he gets out of the car, you notice Will leaning down to whisper something to him. But you don't care.

You have your ways. He has his. But you will not feed yet another ego.

The debrief after the second practice session is full of tension. Thick enough that Lando nearly gags when he enters the room. Something that makes Lando’s blood boil a little, especially with how you’re sitting just relaxed, arms a bit folded, leaning back in the office chair as you look at the slide deck of all the data that’s still being edited by the strategists. You’re across from him, while Will is next to Lando. Oscar is next to you, and on his other side is his own race engineer. You should be sitting next to Lando. Will should be a bit further down, with his new position. 

Yet there you are, sitting beside Oscar and laughing as the two of you speak. 

That idiot is more like my littermate.

Your words ring oddly in his ears. Were you just trying to throw him off? The two of you have your foreheads pressed together, whispering and discussing something like it was just the two of you in that room. Oscar smells so undeniably happy, with his eyes shining, and a little smile on his lips to reveal his bunny teeth.

You seem so satisfied. Pointing out the positive turn in data when you had held Lando’s feet to the fire. Doing the opposite of what Will had recommended. Zak just listens silently while Andrea stands at the front of the room next to Randeep, the head of strategy. The praise makes you give a small smile— Lando’s not even sure he can call it that. The corners of your mouth tip up, just a tiny bit, almost imperceptibly— and you continue to pay attention as Andrea signals for everything to move on. Oscar seems to preen at your being praised, and that all-but-seals the deal for Lando, realizing you’d probably lied about not courting him, for whatever reason.

But Will raises his hand. 

“Uh— I actually have a few concerns,” The blond alpha is polite, but there’s clear agitation in his words. You stiffen a little, but ultimately tilt your head to the side, questioning. “Mainly about how Lando’s new engineer seemed to ignore my advice,”

“....Elaborate,” Andrea motions for Will to keep speaking, though he seems agitated, a prickle of annoyance scenting the air. “Please try to keep this unbiased, Will, and also remember that each race engineer does things differently.”

“Right. I’ll just get right into it. I don’t like the way Ms. Lauda talks to Lando,” Will stands, clapping his hands together, and looking directly at you. You, in response, raise both your eyebrows and meet his gaze head-on. Cold. Calculating. The way you’re addressed almost feels too formal. Like you’re not really welcome at McLaren yet, as he refuses to use your first name. 

It’s not lost on you. And it certainly isn’t lost on Lando, who suddenly realizes Will is trying to make a statement of some kind, as the other alpha smiles at him, like Lando’s his littermate, that they’re closer than they’ve really ever been. 

“Lando, in previous years, has done great with positive reinforcement, even with how often his race engineer changes—”

“He’s also never gone further than the top five in driver’s ranking, nor won a race yet.” You respond cooly. Under the table, you’re picking at your nails. The claws on your left hand extend to pick at the back of the compression glove you’re wearing, custom-made to match your skin tone and to hide the burn scars that mar your right hand. Being careful not to break the fabric. Practiced. A perfected nervous tick that had only worsened since he had been sentenced. Perhaps you should take your anxiety medication earlier, rather than at night.

Will ignores your response, though he does pause a bit, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yes, that may be so, but we’re here to uplift him, and help him go further than before. Admittedly, the car hasn’t been the best in the past few years, but that’s changing. I’m speaking as his race engineer here—”

“Former race engineer,” You remind him, looking at Will, who looks to Lando again, as if ask for him to jump to his defense. “You’re not his race engineer anymore.”

All Lando wants to do is curl up in a ball because he really, really doesn’t want to get into the political power struggle between his current and former race engineer right now, even if you’ve not exactly been the most… approachable, for this first month. 

He feels nauseous, caught between the two of you right now. With how you’re staring him down, lips turned downward. One of your upper canines slightly snagged on your lower lip. 

“Yes, but,” Will huffs through his nose, now looking straight at you. You no longer look as calm as when the conversation— confrontation, more accurately— started. Just staring down Will, sitting stiffly in your chair. Maybe trying to intimidate him, using the legendary Lauda death stare. Perhaps it’s working— Will isn’t even trying to talk to you directly anymore, looking straight at Andrea and Zak. “Be reasonable, the way she spoke to Lando is unacceptable, I mean, Lando can’t help that he hasn’t won yet— but to outright taunt him as she did, it makes me wonder why she actually left Williams!” 

No one’s quite sure when he’d started to growl. Or when his scent had turned so bitter with frustration and outright disgust as he spoke.

But the fact is, Will used his voice. The edges of his irises had flashed red, showing his designation, and showed exactly what he was doing, even if he wasn’t aware he was doing it.

The aggression from him is shocking. Completely unlike him, in all honesty. But everything is frozen by the loud, panicked baying of your dog, now pressing itself into your lap, her nose against your face and licking your cheeks. Your eyes focus on the table in front of you, while Oscar grabs you by the shoulders, turning your chair to look at him. You let out a low, defensive hiss, and Lando can see the way you bare your teeth at him.

An odd ripping sound fills the room, the tips of your fingers extending and stretching until Lando realizes you’re wearing a glove on your right hand, and that your claws had ripped through the fingertips of it as Oscar now holds to your wrists to stop you from clawing at him. The edge of a scent-blocking patch is just visible on your wrist, where the glove had partially stretched and ripped because of the extention of your claws. 

And your dog keeps baying. Ear-splitting and urgent, as you wrestle yourself from Oscar’s grip, before directly baring your teeth at Will. Sharp canines under your pulled-back lips, one side almost looking a bit… droopy, as if your skin couldn’t tighten the way it normally would.

That snaps Will out of his daze, and he pales, starting to stutter out a response. “I—I didn’t mean—”

You barely manage to make it from the room, a flash of white near the door, in what Lando can only assume is your canine form, Eggroll still hot on your heels, baying and howling as she chases you. Oscar sprints after, pushing past Zak, who tries to hold you there. You’re gone— god knows where— along with the younger driver and your beagle.

“Mr. Joseph. A word.” Andrea hisses, and motions to the door quickly, the team principal's face set in a rare display of utter fury.

Lando has no idea what to do. Because this goes against everything he’s been taught and everything he believes in, Alpha or not. No matter how angry you got, no matter how aggravating someone might be— you never, ever let it get to that point. Not like Will had just done. Using his Alpha voice and almost certainly setting off some episode that your service dog was trained for. 

Truthfully, Lando had never seen someone use their Alpha voice. Yes, he had it. All the other Alphas he knew had it. But he’d never seen it actually used on someone. Sure, he’d seen people speak with it, but that was when he was in school, in health classes, learning to control it so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt anyone. Just like how Betas had to learn how to properly recognize scents, and how Omegas had to learn how to control their own scents, so as to not cause accidental distress to those around them. That’s just how everything was. 

Zak closes the meeting with little decorum. His face is stoic, a mask that hides whatever he’s thinking. But it’s clear that not a single word of what just happened will be spoken about outside of the team and those who’d witnessed it. 

“Zak,” Lando walks up to him, flinching at how the older Beta seems to stare right through him, “I didn’t— he didn’t tell me he was going to do that. He only said he didn’t like how Mouse did things,”

“Mouse?” Zak says in confusion. “Do you mean— never mind, but— we’ll— we’ll get this figured out, Lando. Just.... take the night." 

The way he says it doesn’t fully convince him, though. Even as he trudges to the nesting rooms, following the faint trail of the heavenly scent from last night. Room 12 is open this time. And Lando is a creature of petty desires. So the moment his body hits the pre-built nest in the little room, he closes his eyes and hopes the third and final day of testing while somehow be less of a shitshow than today. 

You need to use your canine form more. The click of your claws on the floor is a dead giveaway that it was a bit... neglected.

You’re panting, trying to find a small place to tuck yourself to hide, like your instincts are telling you to do. Following your instincts is good. Great, even. But you can hear Oscar and Eggroll’s steps behind you, almost upon you.

The wind is knocked from you, and you tumble forward as a human, with Oscar in his canine form on top of you. Eggroll trots up to your face, lets out an angry bay, before sitting down and licking your face to help ground you. It takes nearly a minute before Oscar trusts that you’re not going to try and run, and turns human himself, gently lifting both yourself and Eggroll, while you try (and fail) to tuck yourself into a ball, still thinking you're being chased.

Eggroll, seemingly all-knowing, bays again. Shoves her nose against yours. And then leaves a slobbery lick up your face, forcibly grounding you as you glare at the little beagle.

“Okay. Let’s talk.” Oscar hums, taking you to the nesting rooms, haphazardly choosing one that won’t look too odd to be closed. He helps you through the paces, wiping off the remaining adhesive for your scent-blocking patches. Letting you hide slightly under him, Eggroll grumpily pushing her paws into your side. “What was that?”

"What was what?"

"That," Oscar moves his arms as if to gesture to the entire debrief. "What else could I be talking about, Mouse?!"

“I don’t know. He started getting so angry,” You mumble. And you’re genuinely confused— nothing like that, even at Williams, had happened before. There were usually warning signs, if it was something with your scent. It was hard for you to regulate it, with how damaged your scent glands were. But you could, and that’s what your scent blockers were for. 

An omega’s scent could cause those around them to feel whatever the omega felt if they so wished it. It was a defense tactic that had evolved back from the early days of humanity. To control one's scent was to control the pack, and it often became a task for any prime omega to keep the pack calm, able to make sure level-heads prevailed in any circumstance. Just as the prime Beta and Alpha served their purpose, the prime Omega had their own duties to uphold.

You’d never been able to control your scent. Even when you presented, with Marlene to guide you through your Omega schooling, the majority of your scent glands, were too damaged. Quite honestly, you were unable to scent anything. If you tried too hard, the damaged glands would start to ache, and the few untouched ones would blister from having to overproduce the scenting hormones. 

“Do you think your scent…?” Oscar trails off as you go silent. 

“Shouldn’t have. My scent blockers are prescribed.” You mumble, squeezing Eggroll a little bit tighter. “They’re meant to make it so I don’t have to try and regulate my scent.”

As if to show your friend, your pack mate, you tremble, squeezing your eyes shut to try and regulate it as you’d learned to from Marlene. The scarred part of your neck aches with the effort it takes for you to control it. The gland on the other side of your neck manages to splutter out a weak stream of your scent before it starts to sting. Trying to make Oscar feel calm. Oscar just frowns, and then lightly pushes you to break your concentration so you don’t continue to try and regulate your scent, obviously not affected.

“Point taken.” He looks at the mostly undamaged part of your neck, checking it carefully. “Jesus. That’s gonna blister.” 

Eggroll huffs, and digs her front paws into your chest. Her mournful brown eyes look up at you in seeming judgement for pushing yourself. “They always do.” You gently scratch the dog’s head. “She did her panic alert. Not the scent alert.” You look back down at her. 

“So maybe you set him off?”

“Maybe,” you shrug it off. “He probably got scared of my face, right?” You feel the uneven texture of the scar on your jaw, the makeup you’d been wearing to even everything out now sitting on a soaked cloth in the corner of the room. The media knew you had scars. Fuck, everyone did. But your strict skincare and makeup routine ensured that many didn’t know just how bad they were. 

“You have makeup on, though.”

“But it doesn’t always hide the… droopyness.” You frown. Feeling how one side of your mouth moves less than the other. “Be honest, does it look like I'm having a stroke? Like a chronic one, or some shit?”

“No, you're just dramatic. ” Oscar puts his chin on top of your head, huffing. “The new treatments have been helping.” 

The huff you make isn’t as convincing as he’d like it to be. But you’re too tired to try and argue with him anymore as you let yourself try to relax and focus on the next and final day of testing tomorrow. 

tags: @charlesgirl16 @boo8008 @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @vellicora @st0rmzi3 @poppyflower-22 @hiireadstuff @seonghwaexile @mrsmelinda @actuallyazriel @noam-rosier-icr

[grapehyasynth]

maus what if i was curious to know what drabble you cook up based on the song 'impossible' by shontelle?? 💜

MY BELOVED MAUS!

oh boy did this get ANGSTY! my original idea was canon-compliant, since the playlist is meant to align with canon, but then this bubbled up. sorry to my boys </3

Wille wakes up to a splitting headache and a missed call from Simon. He’s not sure which one is the stronger force in keeping him immobilized in his bed for another half an hour. 

They haven’t talked since the breakup, even though it was mutual and mostly amicable. It just hurts too much. Not like it doesn’t hurt, not talking to him. Everything hurts. 

He puts off calling Simon back. He pushes back the thick curtains, washes his face, brushes the stale alcohol breath off his teeth and tongue. He debates not returning the call at all. People still accidentally butt-dial, don’t they? 

It’s only when he catches himself nibbling at his thumbnail, a habit he’s (mostly) kicked, that he drops onto the chaise longue, drawing his knees up to his chest so he can tug his sweatshirt over his legs. 

“Hej?” he ventures, when the call connects. “What’s up?” 

An indignant little huff of a laugh shivers in his ear. He’s spent the months since their breakup absorbing Simon’s voice through videos and mp3 files, but hearing it just for him is better, worse, everything. “Wille, I get that the situation is shitty, but this is your only warning. Next time I’m blocking you, on all the platforms. I know that sounds harsh, but I just can’t -- I need to not--” 

“Platforms?” On a sudden, vertiginous, half-remembered hunch, Wille puts the call on speakerphone and flips through to see which other apps are still open on his phone. Instagram - open to his direct messages with Simon. Shit. Apparently, at 2AM last night, Wille had sent could you maybe act a little less thrilled to be done with me? or give me half the grammy jfc. thanks so much puss och kram. “Shit. Simon--” 

“My manager wanted to cancel my appearances today. And you know how much she does not believe in days off.” 

“It wasn’t -- I didn’t mean to--” He’s not going to tell Simon it was a joke. Not even the most generous interpretation of text tone would let that message read as a joke. 

He’d been drunk, thoroughly blasted from a friend’s birthday party. He’d gotten back to the royal residence well past midnight, and in an effort to escape the silence of the dark, massive, lonely hallways, he’d wound up on his stomach in his bed, still wearing a suit, watching a seemingly endless parade of Simon’s live performances to promote his new album. The new album that exudes fuck you, that proclaims boy bye, that flaunts Simon’s singlehood and freedom. And the whole world knows Wille was Simon’s last boyfriend. So not only does he have to live without Simon, he has to see him thriving, and he has to read all the strangers on the internet, especially Simon’s superfans, speculating about why they broke up, about how shitty Wille must have been as a boyfriend to make Simon this desperate to move on, about how he never deserved Simon and Simon was probably never happy with him. Wille knows it’s not true - they’d fucking loved each other, neither of them wanted to break up, but it got too hard, the demands of their respective careers and duties threatening to ruin what they had. But alone in this castle, drunk and morose, he’d started to wonder. Hence, the DM. 

“It wasn’t about you,” he offers Simon eventually, dully. “Not really, not like it seemed. It just... fuck, Simon, I know your songs aren’t all autobiographical but it hurts.” 

Simon’s quiet too long, a tense silence Wille remembers, when Simon is nearly vibrating with emotion but trying to breathe his way through it. “You’re right, they’re not all autobiographical. And these songs were written ages ago, before we were together - I didn’t even write all of them myself - they’re not about you, not the - not the ones people think, anyway. And of course I know that it hurts, Wille, god, I - do you think I want to sing about a shitty ex and perform like I’m having the time of my life when I’m so heartbroken I can barely get out of bed?” 

Wille doesn’t know what to say. If they were in person, this is when he would go to Simon, hold him as he cried. 

Wasn’t the breakup supposed to prevent them both from falling apart? 

Simon sniffles. “I’ll try to make it more clear, in my interviews. I’ve tried to steer them away from you but I’ll do better. Is that what you want, Wille? Would that help?” 

“Yes. No. I don’t - I don’t know what I want, Simon,” he admits brokenly. “I just want you.” 

“Wille--” 

“I just want you.”

[rubahlicik]

Rumahati: Finale

Aink harap ini terakhir kalinya Aink posting soal rumahati. Hatur thank you buat semua yang Uda berbagi informasi, tenaga dan doa dalam kasus rumahati ini.

.

.

Aink mulai dengan konklusi dulu.

Betul, uni nilep uang sedekah kalian

Uda yah, ga ada asumsi atau praduga lagi. Uda bisa Aink pastiin kalo uang yg uni minta sebagai sedekah, ada yang dia makan buat kepentingan pribadi.

Clear

Makasih banget buat pasangan @properparadox dan @vanilachocolate yang Uda mau direpotin. Maaf banget soal informasi yang ga proper dari aink.

Jujur, terlalu banyak kebohongan dalam kasus uni ini. Aink dan @jagungrebus Uda pusing mengurai mana informasi yang bener mana yang tipu.

Tadi siang, pasangan detektif Tumblr berangkat menuju dua lokasi, yaitu lokasi kontrakan terakhir uni yang di Cikadut dan klinik yang katanya suami uni pernah kerja disana tahun 2019.

Tapi keluarga uni ga ketemu.

Ternyata, mereka Uda pindah sejak tiga bulan yang lalu, dari cikadut ke Cileunyi. Makin jauh lagi dari pusat kota. Bukan karena mereka takut dikejar, tapi emang Uda ga sanggup bayar kontrakan yang di Cikadut.

Meski ga ketemu uni, pasangan Tumblr pulang dengan bawa no.hp suaminya uni yang didapat dari ponakan pemilik kontrakan lamanya.

Well done gaes!

Setelah dapet no hp suaminya, langsung aink follow up. Setelah dhuhur aink coba kontak, beberapa kali di telpon ga diangkat, di wa ga di bales. Setelah ashar baru ada jawaban.

Suaminya uni bilang ga bisa ditelpon karena speaker hpnya rusak. Jadi obrolan lanjut via chat.

Aini simpulkan secara singkat kesaksian dari suami uni.

Suaminya baru tahu soal penggalangan dana sedekah sekitar 3 hari yang lalu. Itu pun karena uni tiba tiba minta ganti no hp. Setelah minta ganti nomor, uni cerita ke suaminya.

Jadi, cerita bahwa uni dan keluarga suaminya dari dulu bantu anak asuh dan lain sebagainya tuh bohong yah. Clear. Suaminya bersaksi kalo dia beru tahu kemarin.

Dia cuma tahu kalo emang ada yang nitip sedekah berupa baju dan beragam barang, plus uang dan emang uni suka berbagi sama orang ga mampu di sekitarnya.

Nah, yang jadi masalah adalah ternyata uni memakai sebagian uang sedekah untuk kepentingan pribadi tanpa izin. Betul, menurut suaminya nama2 yang dipakai uni buat minta sedekah memang ada. Tapi ketik aink bilang kalo uni menggalang dana sejak 2017 dia juga kaget. Uni kemarin cerita, kalo usaha ngumpulin sedekah mulai dari 2020 sejak kehamilan anak nya.

Menggalang dana secara terus menerus atas nama pribadi, tanpa ijin dan transparansi dana aja Uda salah. Apalagi kalo sengaja ambil bagian dari sedekah tanpa ijin donatur.

Ini salah besar.

Betul kata mas miring dalam postingannya kemaren. Orang yang biasa hidup susah ketika buka penggalangan donasi bisa keenakan. Terlena sama uang yang terus menerus masuk tanpa harus kerja.

Ini mungkin yang bikin uni gerilya narik sedekah lewat postingannya, lewat DM nya. Bahkan ke orang yang dia sebetulnya ga kenal. Enak banget dapet duit tanpa kerja, yang penting sebagian dibagiin lagi.

Ini Uda salah banget. Bisa aja jadi benar kalo sejak awal uni transparan, bilang ke donatur bakal ambil sekian persen buat diri sendiri. Tapi kan enggak? Ampe sekarang yang tau berapa banyak uang sedekah yang uni makan cuma uni dan Allah yang tahu. Bahkan suaminya pun angkat tangan

Suami uni kerja ngojek. Data ini didukung kesaksian tetangga uni di Cikadut yang bilang kalo suaminya emang suka pulang malam. Pas istri aink cek di getcontact pun emang terlihat kalo nomor suami uni disave sebagai driver.

Dia mengaku ikut bertanggungjawab soal kesalahan uni. Dengan dia posisi sebagai suami tapi ga tau menahu soal kegiatan istri di belakangnya, dia ikut bersalah.

Dia janji ga bakal ngilang dan siap bertanggungjawab. Soal duit sih aink yakin ga bisa balik, sorry to say. Suami uni bilang emang kondisi finansial keluarganya buruk, pindah kontrakan pun karena emang nyari yang lebih murah.

Aink pribadi bakal nganggap ini selesai kalo uni Uda minta maaf dan terbuka lagi buat berkomunikasi. Buat teman-teman yang juga ngerasa dirugiin sama uni, aink siap jadi penghubung antara kalian dengan suaminya.

Kalian mau ikhlas terserah, mau perhitungan uang juga terserah, gimana nyamannya kalian. Siapin aja bukti chat sama bukti trf yang Uda kalian kasih. Silahkan meminta pertanggungjawaban keluarga uni.

Buat ke depannya moga ga ada kejadian kayak gini lagi dan sebaiknya polemik rumahati ga usah diperpanjang lagi.

Terimakasih,.

Silahkan berbagi kabar ini dengan warga Tumblr lainnya. Case closed

[famouslook1987]

नगर पालिका परिषद ने स्वच्छता ही सेवा महाअभियान के तहत वार्ड नं0 44 मिर्जाहादीपुरा में चलाया स्वच्छता अभियान

स्वच्छता बरतने से वातावरण में बढ़ता है आकर्षण व नाना प्रकार की बीमारियों के पनपने का अवसर भी नहीं मिलता-:- नगर विकास मंत्री ए0के0 शर्मा संवाददाता-: राजेश गुप्ता मऊ/संसद वाणी : शासन की मंशा के अनुरूप 17 सितम्बर से आगामी 2 अक्टूबर तक नगर पालिका परिषद मऊ द्वारा नगर क्षेत्र में ‘स्वच्छता ही सेवा’ महा अभियान के तहत सफाई अभियान चलाया जा रहा है। सफाई अभियान के इस क्रम में आज मऊ नगर के वार्ड नं0 44…

[unintentionalseductress]

💌DM/inbox to join! Collab deets can be found here!

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💌Deadlines: February 14 th to join, March 14th to submit

FIC REQUESTS:

Love And Deepspace:

@laddelulu30 Reader Description: My reader is 28 year old curvy woman of color with hazel green eyes and long wavy dark red hair. She's 5'2" loves history and has an affinity for fire. She enjoys camping, (fancy camping) and has an Egyptian Mau. Smut very much encouraged.

@reilemon Reader Description: late twenties, shy at first (esp around someone she likes) but once she relaxes she's talkative and a goofball. but then she'd get shy again around the first kiss and intimate moments (if that's where the fic goes). she likes reading, dancing, drinking cocktails. She has long, black straight hair, pear shape body (like slim thick), likes wearing short skirts and thigh highs, an wears mostly black. the writer has the creative freedom to take the story wherever it feels right - it can be sweet and tender or it can lead to smut.

@who-mentioned-rhys-larsen Reader Description: 21, brown with type 4a curls, 5'6 w browm eyes and a chubby yet curvy figure? Like busty kinda chubby, allergic to cats and likes cooking and baking and um some smutty fluff

@ollieneedsamilkshake Reader Description: reader is mid twenties, low key pale for a mix-race (half black half white) person, has really short (like buzz cut short) curly brown hair, and is about 5'10. She doesn't have any pets (has been wanting a snake for over 5 years) and wears a lot of black gwnder neutral clothes (not particularly emo or gothic, just colour sucks, ) and likes listening to Rap music, and watching horror movies. Smuts fine, but fluffy and like kisses or cuddles are preferred.

@poisonf0rest reader is mid twenties, has pixie-cut brown hair, lots of piercings, and an athletic/built body type. She loves the gym, gaming, reading, rnb music, fashion, and probably any wild shenanigans her friends/s.o. rope her into.

@espace--positif My reader is 27, 5’4”, dark skinned with bob-length dark brown (almost black) curly hair. She also wears glasses. She’s introverted and reserved with new people, and not likely to make the first move. Her MBTI is ISTP and she enjoys cozy indoor activities like video games, writing and reading, cooking and baking. She also likes to go to restaurants, bookstores, and art museums, but not when it’s overly crowded. She loves coffee, pasta, and cheesecake. I’d prefer fluff/sweet stuff and no smut, writer has full creative freedom other than that!

@pomegranatepip my reader is in her 20s, a somewhat light-skinned poc, shoulder length wavy black hair, brown eyes, curvy (sort of chubby) body, 5'7" in height. her style is mostly androgynous but leans more towards feminine and she enjoys a darker aesthetic for her wardrobe (black, burgundy, dark purple etc) she's introverted but doesn't mind making the first move if she likes someone and knows they like her too. she enjoys reading and rewatching her favourite shows (mostly cartoon shows xD) and is a homebody but loves traveling/exploring new places. she prefers to be by herself but if she finds someone who she deems "her person" she will always try to include that person in her plans (if they're comfortable with being included ofc). any genre is fine but fluff is preferred

Jujutsu Kaisen:

@lazyjellyfish300 Reader Description: My reader is 27, has long dark brown hair with bangs, olive skin, brown eyes and tattoos. She wears glasses, medium height around 5'4 and curvy build. She is shy with an INFP personality. She loves coffee, fruity cocktails, pasta, comfy sweaters and hoodies, traveling, shopping, animals, and the rain. She also loves music and listens to all kinds. (indie, rock, pop, country, rap, literally everything). She loves to stay in and nap and cuddle with movies and homemade treats and goodies, or she loves to go to the movies, try new restaurants, look for hidden cafes, wander around little shops, go for drives, or take a stroll arm in arm together outside. Smut is optional. 🫶🏽 Tropes for ideas: Anything really fluffy/sweet/awkward cute first meet, coffee shop aus, soulmate aus, one bed, friends to lovers, mutual pining, etc are all ones I love.

@thesoftuglywrites Reader is 26, 5'4", curvy hourglass figure, heterochromatic eyes (right eye is blue, left eye is green) freckled pale skin, hair color is a russet/auburn brown hair. LOVES music (all kinds of music, really), going to concerts, collecting vinyls, going to bookstores, and reading romance and fantasy novels. Prefers to stay indoors and nap her days away rather than going out. Extremely shy and introverted (anxiety ridden, really), but is slowly trying to break out of her shell.

@lethargiccryptid Dark Reddish Blonde hair, blue grey eyes, 5'8", lanky, tattoos on shoulder and right forearm. Enjoys a variety of music, sewing, writing, deep deep down a romantic. Very open and warm when tipsy... As far as tropes go, I enjoy friends to lovers, and then they were roommates, cozy smut is always a plus but not a necessity, domestic fluff gets me every time. stubborn with a bit of an aggressive personality diametrically opposed to emotional reservedness and shyness when first met, dark sense of humor very petty. a touch arrogant but deep down very caring. giving and protective of my friends. can be a bit prickly and moody

@flaneur001 reader is in early 20s, is a poc with brown long hair and brown eyes. She likes to either dress a bit on the formal and masculine side, or if in an indoor setting, she would prefer comfy clothing, baggy tshirts and pajamas. She needs glasses (shortsighted) but avoids wearing them as much as she can. Some other things about her- she likes cozy homely vibes. Doesn’t like extravagant gestures, but has a preference for well thought, comforting plans. Likes reading, singing, and watching movies. Is a very indoorsy person.

@socyx reader has medium slight curly haired, wears glasses and is slight chubby, enjoys making arts and crafts + singing & dancing, plays competitive games and likes pop music no smut but yes to light kissing + cuddling.

@ravenclaw-jojo reader is in her late 20s - early 30s, 5'0", with long, slightly wavy chestnut brown hair and a sage-green streak through her hair. She has a rounder face (think cheeks) and has light academia vibes. She enjoys nature, hikes and prefers creeks and lakes to beaches or the ocean. In fact, deathly afraid of the ocean. Loves to use red lipstick. Writer has creative freedom with fluffiness, though smut is highly encouraged!

[neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies]

INTRO POST <3

last updated - 26/1/25 (added letterboxd) fic recs , my fic

BASICS- ABOUT ME: I'm Lisa Avenir (love nicknames, especially Lise or Liz, be creative, I don't mind). You can also call me Alex :D I'm an asexual genderqueer(non-binary) lesbian and I use they/she pronouns (prefer they). I'm Indian and a minor so keep the latter part in mind. I'm also bilingual/multilingual I love receiving asks even though I may take some time to answer them sometimes. I love talking to people here but only dm me we are mutuals :) my old intro post because I'm emotionally attached to it DNI- the basics, I don't want any assholes in here.

FANDOMS: This list will keep on changing- Most Active in: Dead Poets Society, BBC Sherlock, My Chemical Romance, Gravity Falls, Dead Boy Detectives Occasionally post: A Little Life, House Md, Chappell Roan, Derry Girls, Bunny I also reblog a lot of silly stuff, lgbtquia+ stuff and sometimes things concerning my mental health.

LINKS SIDE BLOGS: @i-think-im-breaking-down-again - more personal blog @cappuccino-circa-capillaries -hopecore posts @a-bitch-can-write-poetry - poetry and web weaving reblogs, will post my original work if I ever get the courage @honestly-im-honest- silly stuff @edwinpayneshomosexualtendencies - dbda side blog MEDIA: Pinterest Spotify Storygraph stats.fm letterboxd TAGS: #yapping the days away - yaps #my art - my art #rewatching bbc sherlock - block this if you can, this is me experiencing a psychological breakdown #asksss, #moot asks, #anon asks - asks related stuff If you send asks often, I probably have a special tag just for you #affirmations - hopecore posts #normal thoughts, #unfortunately that's me - unhealthy thoughts #silly stuff, #hellsite, #hellsite heritage - tumblr being silly #politically correct opinions - anything which i deem is correct and debated

INTERESTS- MUSIC: My music taste is that of a straight white teenage girl, a cottagecore lesbian, her emo girlfriend and an Indian dad. 🪶Genre - Indie, Indie pop, Rock, Alt-Indie, Basic white girl pop, Pop-rock, Pop-punk, Folk, Old Bollywood, Male manipulator, Female Manipulator, Lesbian Manipulator, ghazal, anything that slaps 🪶Artists - Chappel Roan, Ricky Montgomery, Flower Face, Lana Del Rey, Taylor Swift, Hozier, Phoebe Bridgers, Girl in Red, Clario, Conan Gray, Hank Green, Sabrina Carpenter, Hayley Williams, Joji, Indila, Adele. Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar, Jagjit Singh, Muhammad Rafi, Asha Bhosle etc etc 🪶Bands - Wallows, Florence and the Machine, Sir Chloe, Hole, The Smiths, Paramore, Beach House, The Jayhawks, The Neighborhood, Fun Guns, Cage The Elephant, Arctic Monkeys, Chase Atlantic, Radiohead, My Chemical Romance. 🪶Albums(favourites) - evermore, folklore, The Black Parade, Danger Days, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, Montgomery Ricky, Depression Cherry, Lungs, Superache, Emails I can't send frwd:, Hozier, Ceremonials, Riot!, AM, Party Flavors, I am the Dog, Punisher, Rainy Day Music, Petals for Armour, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, Social Cues, Melophobia, Live through this, Ultraviolence, Born to Die(The Paradise Edition), Nothing Happens, Baby Teeth, Fever Dreams, The Shark in your Water, Lilt by Hikes, Get up and Move by Fun Guns, Sour

BOOKS- 🪶Genre - Dark, War pieces, Dystopias, Young Adult, Depressing, Dark Academia, Classics, Psychological Thriller. 🪶Ride or Die - The Book Thief, The Perks Of Being a Wallflower, MAUS, Paper Towns, Looking for Alaska, All the Bright Places, The Midnight Library, The Handmaid's Tale, The Diary of a Young Girl, A Little Life, The Boy In The Stripped Pajamas, Circe, Before the coffee gets cold, Sharp Objects, The Martian, The DaVinci Code, Bunny, The Emperor of All Maladies, Turtles all the way down, And Then There Were None, The Picture of Dorian Grey, The Catcher in The Rye, No Longer Human, Grandpa's Great Escape, Wild Bird, The Giver. 🪶Honorable Mentions from my TBR - If We Were Villains, The Secret History, 1984, To Kill A Mockingbird, Six Of Crows, Lord of the Flies, Piranesi, Lessons in Chemistry, Crime and Punishment, How it Feels to Float, Orbiting Jupiter, Normal People, Fahrenheit 451, The Myth of Sisyphus, Lessons in Chemistry, Slaughterhouse-five, Dark Matter. 🪶Poets - Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, William Wordsworth. Sappho,

MOVIES- Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting, Lady Bird, Whiplash, Booksmart, Black Swan, Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse, Forrest Gump, Duck Duck Goose SERIES- BBC Sherlock, Orange Is The New Black, HBO's Chernobyl(This was my 1st hyperfixation and it lasted for more than 2 years. At its prime I knew how to run several types of reactors and was known for nuclear energy. I almost got outed coz of his ha) Brooklyn99, Dead Boy Detectives, Heartstopper, Derry Girls, Modern Family, Just Add Magic, House md?

FACTS- 🪶Only Child 🪶Also a really lonely child 🪶I love any form of Noodles Soup 🪶I have a huge crush on Maya Hawke 🪶I love biology and anatomy 🪶I need psychological help /srs 🪶I have brown ass basic eyes 🪶My vocabulary might be good but I can't spell for shit. 🪶I'm touch starved but touch aversed. Yes, we exist. 🪶I'm a nerd fighter 🪶I love dissecting song lyrics 🪶My aesthetic is dark academia, witchcore and sickly victorian child dying of the plague core 🪶I am a hyper-organized clean freak (it get crippling) 🪶I have multiple BFRBs since childhood 🪶I have these sneeze attacks on a daily basis where I sneeze like 15 times over the course of 3 minutes 🪶 My 2025 resolution is to count my sneezes and my body has abruptly stopped sneezes since Jan 1st. HOBBIES- 🪶Reading 🪶Writing poetry or songs 🪶Listening to Music 🪶The Universe 🪶Literature 🪶making little collages on PowerPoint

MOOTS APPRICIATION!!!! @lv3buzzz, @noctilucaa(even in deactivation, star will be my wife), @wilsons-three-legged-siamese, @yourfavvgal, @1mlostnow, @arrr-im-a-dead-poet, @perksofbeingpoet, @mighthavebeenmurder, @take-me-to-the-rooftop15, @poetsinnyc, @joonof1989, @deadcrowcalling, @pingunaa, @xxcherryberriezxx @burgundykicks (text me if you would like your name to be removed <3333 )

-🪶 divider

[paomungbeans]

Was she really trustworthy?: urging you to squeeze your brain with me in this case. 

The one and only rule: To maintain a respectful environment, I expect all discussions to be constructive and healthy. Suspicion and inappropriate language are strictly prohibited. It is essential to renavigate our intentions accordingly. May Allah always guide us closer to what is right! 

The story will be delivered in Bahasa Indonesia. 

Halo. Assalamualaikum.

Saya akan mencoba memberikan POV saya, yaa, mengenai akun sedekah di lamanbiru ini. Untuk selanjutnya, saya akan menyebut akun tersebut dengan kata-kata “Ma-eum” (bahasa korea dari “hati”). Kita sebut dengan Mbak Ma-eum.

Saya memulai perjalanan saya dengan tumblr tahun 2021 (kalau nggak salah ingat) di akun @khaylillahtahzanu. Akunnya deactive sekarang. Yuk baca sampai akhir kenapa bisa deactive. Padahal saya aktif share tulisan saya dan branding writing saya disana. Buktinya, akun instagram saya dengan nama @khaylillatahzanu, masih menyimpan history tulisan itu. Kalau mau di-stalk, ada satu foto yang saya pin, captionnya berisi alasan kenapa saya deact tumblr itu. In essence, tumblr itu adalah dunianya saya dalam nulis!

Tahun 2022, Mbak Ma-eum DM saya di akun TUMBLR @khaylillahtahzanu (selanjutnya saya sebut akun K), meminta sedekah untuk adik-adik. Saya saat itu nggak gubris. Perasaan saya justru malah, “Lho, kok dia berani ya nge-DM orang asing untuk minta uang?”. Lobus frontal saya masih dikuasai akal sehat dan butuh bukti untuk dukung keputusan saya. Karena tiba-tiba di DM meminta sedekah, siapa yang nggak kaget, sih?

Tahun 2023, saya buka tumblr lagi. Saya buka lagi history DM itu. Ceritanya saya tergerak untuk sedekah. Wah, kata-kata Mbak Ma-eum tuh manis sekali dan lembut. Akhirnya saya tergerak untuk sedekah rutin (subuh) melalui dia. Semoga ini bukan riya yaa.

Selama 2023 berjalan, saya kadang gak rutin sedekah subuh ke dia juga sih. Tapi saya mulai melihat pola. Kalau saya udah berhenti transfer, dia akan nanya, apakah ada intensi saya untuk sedekah bagi adik-adik lagi. Awalnya saya risih karena “Kok sedekah tuh semacam ditagih ya?” tapi saya hilangkan perasaan itu. Salah saya. Saya nggak acknowledge perasaan saya. May Allah forgive. Tapi selanjutnya, saya mulai merasa nggak nyaman. Baca sampai akhir yaa, ketika saya akhirnya overwhelmed dengan chat dari dia setiap bulan/minggu soal pertanyaan intensi sedekah ini.

CERITA SAYA

Nah, ini dia skenario itu dimulai. Mbak Ma-eum DM saya dan meminjam uang. Iya. Meminjam uang. Ini terjadi di bulan July 2023. Beliau minta ke akun K. Karena akun K saya kan sudah deact, jadi bukti ini saya minta ke mbak @andromedanisa (untuk jelasnya kenapa aku SEMPAT kirim bukti ini ke Kak Nisa waktu itu, baca sampai akhir ya!). Jadi masih ada bukti tertinggal. Terlampir:

Awalnya saya bingung juga. “Kok berani banget nih? Makin menjadi-jadi? Malah mau minjem uang? Apa sangking susahnya ya hidupnya?” Waktu itu narasinya adalah anaknya (aisha, kalau tidak salah), mau kontrol terapi tumbuh kembang. Suaminya qadarullah sakit. Waktu itu dia bersumpah bahwa dia telah malu meminjam uang kemanapun dan cara dia meminjam uang ke saya adalah cara yang dia akhirnya putuskan. Tadinya sih Mbak Ma-eum katanya malu minjem, tapi dipaksain muka tebel gitu istilahnya.

Yang menarik, disini dia menegaskan bahwa akadnya BUKANlah meminta. Melainkan pinjam. Gini narasinya more or less, “Mbak (saya maksudnya), ini akadnya saya pinjam ya. Saya akan balikin.” berkali-kali dia sebutin soal akad dalam pinjam-meminjam. Walau saya bukan orang finansial, saya paham bahwa akad yang jelas itu merupakan hal yang penting. Salah satu perintah Allah pertama kali juga kan di Surah An-Nisa ayat 29. Surah Madaniyah. Perintah pertama ke muslim at its infancy. (reference: buku Revive Your Heart by Nouman Ali Khan).

“Berarti amanah yaa. Beliau mengerti mengenai akad.” pikir saya. Sampai bulan-bulan selanjutnya pun saya tidak menagih kembali. Saya yakin dia amanah dan akan kembalikan uangnya.

Agustus 2023, saya mulai curiga dan merasa sedikit nggak nyaman. Kenapa? Karena beliau ingin meminjam uang lagi. Nominalnya 900.000. Wow. Sangat besar menurut saya. Walau yang juli 2023 lebih kecil dari itu ya, saya merasa bahwa ini sudah tidak benar. Disini perasaan saya sudah nggak nyaman, tapi saya tetep meminta pertolongan Allah buat nggak cuekin dan say indecency words ke saudara seiman saya saat dia meminta sedekah (salah satu anjuran di Quran juga kalau nggak salah inget).

“Waduh, pinjeman juli 2023 aja belum dibalikin, punya audacity banget kok ya orang ini untuk minjem lagi. 900.000 pula”. Nominal 900.000 itu yang saya ingat ya. Ya justru saya tolak meminjamkan. Saya bener-bener jadi merasa penuh tiap ada DM dari Mbak Ma-eum. Seakan-akan kok jadinya bergantung ya? Astaghfirullah.

Desember 2023, saya akhirnya kirim uang lagi (yaa lagi ada. Buat sedekah). Waktu itu narasinya bahwa ada adek Naya yang ingin paket C atau ingin berangkat les karena ujian. Untuk penjelasan narasi-narasi, saya akan ceritakan di section beda ya.

Lalu, 2024 pun datang. Saya gerah banget nih. Mulai gerah. Mbak Ma-eum kok masih punya audacity untuk chat saya minta sedekah ya? Tapi nggak ada omongan soal akad pinjem uangnya dia? Waduh, disini saya pikir udah nggak bener.

Januari 2024, saya akhirnya minta dia balikin dengan cara cicil. Sudah terlalu lama menurut saya. Juli 2023 sampai januari 2024, hitung aja deh. Dia kirim 50.000 dulu. Dia bilang mumpung uangnya belum kepake apa-apa. Oke, gapapa. 50.000 diterima (nanti section bukti mutasi rekening dan cerita dibaliknya, akan saya tulis dibawah).

Februari, Maret 2024… saya nungguin… kok nggak ada ya kabar lagi? Mbak Ma-eum masih sama. Masih setia ngirim pesan menanyakan kesediaan saya sedekah. Yang saya ingat di Februari, ada adik siapa gitu namanya, butuh sepatu. Yaudah saya gerah. Saya tanyain alamatnya buat kirim sepatu. Ya pada akhirnya ya gak saya kirim sih. Soalnya ternyata gaada sepatu yang sesuai HAHAHA.

Kemudian, saya diemin tuh.. Tapi kayaknya ada lah ya 1-2 hari saya kirim untuk transfer sedekah.

Di maret 2024 juga ada kejadian menarik. Ini dia. Tahan ya bacanya. Saya DM mbak Ma-eum untuk izin.. bahwa saya mau block dia! Kejam? Menurut saya nggak. Soalnya latar belakang keputusan saya tuh gini: 1. Saya udah capek secara hati karena ditagih sedekah terus. 2. Tidak ada itikad untuk bayar hutangnya. 3. Saya merasa takut buka tumblr karena capek liat DM dia yang menanyakan perihal sedekah terus.

Saya overwhelmed.

April 2024, saya memutuskan untuk menagih hak saya. Selain ya karena saya butuh uangnya.. Saya merasa bahwa saya harus nagih hak saya yang ini. Karena akad di awal itu meminjam. Saya gabisa mengkhlaskan gitu aja. Saya buka block tumblr saya ke dia. Eh eh, kok saya nggak bisa check profile dia ya? Apakah saya di-block juga? Ini ceritanya kepanjangan, tapi langsung intinya… saya saat itu akhirnya meminta bantuan Kak Yasir Mukhtar dan Kak Nisa. Saya jelaskan kronologinya dan meminta tolong mereka untuk bantu chat Mbak Ma-eum. Saya sertakan juga bukti Mbak Ma-eum meminjam uang ke saya. Nah, ini menjelaskan alasan yaa, kenapa Kak Nisa masih punya bukti SS diatas.

Kenapa kak yasir dan kak nisa? Ketika kamu search “rumahati” di tumblr, ada interaksi anonim nanya ke akun kak yasir serta ada interaksi antara Mbak Ma-eum dengan Kak Nisa.

Waktu itu Kak Yasir yang respon saya, dan dia bantu up soal tagihan utang saya ini ke Mbak Ma-eum.

Alhamdulillah, saat itu, 2 April 2024. Saya harap 2 april 2024 ini diingat ya. Karena akan jadi kunci penjelasan selanjutnya. 2 april 2024 itu akhirnya kami (saya dan Mbak Ma-eum) pindah obrolan ke WA. Saya disitu bilang bahwa tolong balikin uang saya dsb. Saya ingatkan baik-baik bahwa itu akad meminjam.

EH, sebelum itu.. Tentu saya sudah tagih yaa di februari-maret 2024 itu (kalau ga salah ingat). Jawabannya? Suaminya sakit dan baru kecelakaan, sedang tinggal di rumah mertua. Jadi dia bilang untuk makan pun, mertua yang menanggung. Keadaannya tidak memungkinkan, jadi mohon maaf belum bisa menggantikan. Nggak persis sih seperti redaksi kata dia. Tapi di period tersebut, dia punya alasan untuk nggak ngirim sisa pelunasan. Semuanya kisah sedih.

Di 2 APRIL 2024 ini, saya udah menegakkan hati. Bahwa apapun alasannya, saya gak peduli. Uang saya harus balik. Kejam? Menurut saya nggak. Karena saya merasa udah gak kuat punya urusan lagi dengan Mbak Ma-eum. It’s better to cut-off someone who drains your energy. You will be in the same room with me for this one.

Akhirnya, dilunasi. Ini bukti MUTASI nya di rekening BSI saya. Dari rekening BSI dia (a.n Sri Wahyuni 7083952778) ke rekening BSI saya:

Sebelum dilunasi 450.000 nya. Ada yang ngebuat saya curiga dengan Mbak Ma-eum ini. Dia bilang, “Iya mbak, kami lunasi ya. Kebetulan ada uang sedekah tadi.”

Saya gak bisa kasih buktinya. Itu chat yang dia kirim ke WA pribadi saya. History chatnya saya hapus. Kenapa saya hapus? Karena sebelumnya dia guilt-trip saya (well, from my side, I took that as a gaslight or guilt-trip. manipulative!). Salah saya memang... seharusnya saya berpikir jernih waktu itu... seharusnya saya tetep keep chatnya. Tapi ya gimana... sebelumnya aja udah digaslight kayak gitu :((( Sedikit FYI, beneran kaget banget. Sampe beneran kaget. Nangis. (nanti saya lampirkan konsistensi cerita saya ini. Buktinya berupa LIVE CHAT saya 2 april yg reach out ke teman-teman saya. Ada voice note juga pada tanggal 2 april itu, sepertinya mau saya up di file cloud).

Oke, baca sampai akhir ya.

Jadi setelah dia melunasi Rp450.000, saya segera hapus history chat, deact akun TUMBLR khaylillahtahzanu. Kenapa? Saya beneran trauma liat akun itu. Trauma. Saya trauma liat tulisannya yang cenderung akan meng-expose kesedihan adik-adik asuhnya, dsb. Saya pun trauma karena gaslight-nya sangat menyakiti hati saya. Terlebih itu keluar dari jari dirinya. Jari yang ia pakai untuk menulis kalimat-kalimat Allah juga di page tumblr-nya beliau.

Adapun gaslight yang dia kirimkan ke saya melalui chat adalah:

“Mba, maaf banget kalau kami belum bisa bayar. Tapi tolong Mba jangan perlakukan kami seolah2 mencuri uang. Kami tidak tahu apa yang udah menimpa Mba Ervine. Tapi seolah2 kami juga ikut andil atas apa yang menimpa Mba.”

Buktinya? Memang tidak ada bukti chat dia ke saya. Karena history chat WA dia ke saya telah saya hapus. Saya sedih sampai ga sudi lagi untuk liat chatnya, makanya saya hapus (iya saya tau waktu itu langkah saya beneran nggak tepat untuk hapus history chat). Tapi waktu itu saya LIVE CHAT soal penagihan utang ini ke grup yang berisi kakak-kakak saya. Tanggal 2 april 2024. Harap dilihat time-stampnya ya!

Jam 15.33 itu beneran saya nge-copy langsung dari chat Mbak Ma-eum ke grup. Saya gemeteran. Sangat gemeteran. Sangat-sangat gemeteran. Sampai saya ketik ini, saya masih inget perasaan saya kala itu. Lalu, jam 15.36, dia kirimkan pelunasan 450.000.

Bersambung. Pasti masih banyak pertanyaan mengenai kebenaran cerita saya. Saya akan coba jelaskan di section tulisan terpisah. Yang berisi LIVE CHAT saya dan VOICE NOTE saya ke teman dan kakak-kakak kenalan saya. Saya waktu itu beneran sangat shock, jadi meminta banyak orang untuk mewaraskan diri saya.

Jadi, menurut teman-teman, adab sedekah (yang memberikan ataupun pihak yang diamanahi sedekah) dan meminjam uang itu sebaiknya seperti apa?

[dinisuciyanti]

Akun sedekah di laman biru

Sebetulnya aku gak mau bahas ini, tapi tiba-tiba ter-trigger, ternyata kolega ku juga salah satu korban.

Seingatku, saat covid 2020, aku melihat suatu postingan "sedekah" disini, you can call it "open donasi" untuk yang membutuhkan. Yang repost adalah akun besar, jadi ya, aku percaya. Postingan nya pun terkesan "asli" dan memang butuh bantuan. Dan kupikir, di laman biru ini enggak ada orang jahat yang memanfaatkan kebaikan orang.

Aku pun me-reach akun "sedekah" ini, minta norek, lalu transfer, ku kirim via WA. Kemudian hampir setiap bulan ybs "menanyakan" apakah aku mau sedekah bulan ini. Kalau aku tidak punya uang, ya aku skip, minta maaf. Tapi kalau aku punya, biasanya aku langsung transfer, dan konfirm. Gak tau berapa kali aku transfer, terakhir kali mungkin pas lebaran tahun 2021, dengan nominal yang cukup besar daripada biasanya.

Aku gak pernah sedikit pun curiga, karna yaudah kan sedekah. Sampai pada satu hari aku telponan dengan teman tumblr ku @asimetris , dia bercerita tentang akun sedekah ini. Dari situ aku mulai sadar, "wah, gak bener nih!". Yasudah, dari situ, tiap aku di WA ybs, aku bilang minta maaf gak ada uang. Aku pun sempat bercerita ke teman tumblr yang lain, ternyata case nya sama, akun sedekah ini terduga "menggunakan uang sedekah untuk menghidupi keluarganya".

Ybs juga sempat dm tumblr ku dengan akun baru, tapi tidak ku gubris. Terakhir lebaran tahun ini, WA aku lagi, langsung ku blok.

Malam ini aku mendengar kolega ku juga kena "tipu" oleh akun sedekah ini. Berbeda case denganku, temanku ini meminjamkan uang ke ybs, udah setaun gak dibayar-bayar. Tapi udah balik sih uangnya, walau dengan drama.

Jadi, lesson learned nya, kalau mau sedekah baiknya ke sodara/lingkungan sekitar dulu, atau ke lembaga yang kredibel. Kalau mau personal, pastikan kamu percaya dan kenal orang tersebut. Dan untuk akun sedekah ini, tolonglah berhenti membohongi orang-orang baik. Segera sadar. Ingat akhirat.

19 Juli 2024