#I am so sorry love

[simone-montgomery]

Pride warms Simone's smile, though it's not as vibrant as some should think it ought to be. "We try not to." Like how the energy has suddenly shifted in the air between them. Though the change confuses her enough, Simone simply files the event away for another day's rumination session. Like everything else about the Del Bosque empire, La Pluma staff were clearly loyal here first-- it's logical to assume a bias for already established customers.

"The coffee really adds such a subtle.. something," The filler comes out in a slightly embarrassed laugh "to the flavor." The dreamy description is also filed away in a very important folder in her ever buzzing mind. "My mom would love them, I know it."

She's still thinking of the face her mother would make at the first bite of the little pastries as she nods. "On and off the record. People are just interesting, don't you agree? So many different lived experiences all in one place." If Josephine knew her better, beyond this one half-priced transaction, she'd know that this sudden, admittedly embarrassing, romanticism about her profession was only because she so desperately needed caffeine-- that is to say, not something she indulges in with just anyone. "So many different takeaways stemming from the same situation. So many stories, all deserving to be known."

Josephine's distraction allows just enough time for Simone to catch and silently scold herself. Too long and too much. Though, judging by the smell, the special brew was going to be worth the sleep-deprived ramblings. "Of course. Bank holidays usually lead to more foot traffic." Case in point, her. "But no, uh- I'm actually only on recap duty today. You won't see any of my work until tomorrow. You'll be able to read my report or hear it spoken in a much lovelier tone on tomorrow morning's main broadcast."

A grateful smile is her only exchange for the extra delight, for now anyway. She's already making sure she has enough sellos in her bag to put the other half of everything's prices somewhere for a tip. "You really do get a lot of La Pluma in here, don't you? You know exactly how to capture those of us in this field." A playful wink before she adds, "Thank you, truly."

A beat passes, a moment of deliberation and assessment of facts, then, "How long have you had this place, if you don't mind me asking? I could have sworn I've been down this street at least once before, but you seem so established-- regulars and new recipes and all. You've really cultivated something special here."

Something subtle shifts in Josephine’s expression when Simone mentions the Coronado Current—not quite a flinch, but a momentary stillness, like someone who’s just spotted ice underfoot. She keeps pouring coffee, though, her movements precise and unbroken, years of service industry practice keeping her smile steady. “The Current?” Her voice stays warm even as her mind catalogues this new information, filing it away with everything else she knows about Du Bois media holdings. “That explains the good eye for detail. You journalists never miss much, do you?” She accepts the business card with careful fingers, noting its weight and quality before tucking it safely beside her register. “It’s a variation on pastel de nata,” she explains, focusing on the safer topic of pastries. “Meridian Islands-inspired, but I add coffee to the custard and a touch of sea salt to the caramel.” She adjusts a display tray, using the moment to gather her thoughts. “Though speaking of missing details—most people don’t catch that about rough days and sweet things. You must hear a lot of stories in your line of work.” Festival music swells from somewhere down the street, and Josephine glances toward the sound, then back to Simone. “The speech?” A small smile plays at her lips, not quite reaching her eyes. “I’ll probably catch bits and pieces. Holiday crowds keep the cart busy. Will you be reporting it live? As some sort of special correspondence?” She doesn’t mention that she’s learned to work without the radio on, that sometimes silence is easier than listening to Du Bois broadcasts. Instead, she reaches for another pastry. “Here—take one for the road. Press pools can run long, and these travel well.” Her voice carries just the right mix of professional warmth and casual friendliness, masking the quiet calculation happening beneath—wondering if this is just chance or if someone’s finally noticed her carefully maintained escape fund, if she should start moving money again, if she needs to warn Mrs. Faljombe next door about potential reporters asking questions. But she keeps pouring coffee, keeps smiling, keeps playing her part in Coronado’s morning dance. After all, that’s what the holiday is about, isn’t it? Everyone wearing their best masks, pretending not to see what lies beneath.

[chechula]

Birthday gift for my dear friend who loves vampires♥ . The whole thing was made in three days, I had too much fun drawing it! I created the cover drawing in the car on the way to the birthday party. So I had no time to scan it :D Well, if you enjoy reading it let me know and I will try to post more (I am making comics for my friend regularly, I am just too ashamed to translate and upload these silly things online x_x ) _____________________________________ Patreon Commissions

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[thevaelguard]

You're arranged married to one of the DA LIs, spin the wheel for who!!

[egophiliac]

still rolling around on the ground over the contrast between Jack and Mal. it's so...🤌🤌🤌

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

You're just not toxic enough.

[hinamie]

inflict

[faeofdusk]

and he has a mullet

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

I am such a big Werewolf Stan advocate I had to jump on this particular train 🙏 (but I didn't really wanna commit to full line art, you guys understand)

Oh, and you guys aren't gonna believe this, but here's part two 🙌

[saccharinehell]

I did my best to be lovable.

[spinaholi]

sandra lynn’s dating history now includes:

the most red-flag, gaslighting, married guy who became a world renowned insidious televangelist and ruined her perception of love and self-worth

the saddest, wettest, cardboard-box-living, yogurt covered man with an ancient hereditary curse of bad luck

the arch devil of gluttony and living embodiment of insatiable desire and hunger

a former drug addict, high school student councillor, werewolf, who’s probably the most mentally healthy person to ever exist

sexy pirate

[inkskinned]

idaho is already moving to repeal same-sex marriage. they say it's an overreach of the governmental power, and that the law should be determined by "state's rights".

trump is expected to sign an executive order banning trans women in women's sports. in the article i've linked there, he notes that the "biggest hand" (most applause) he gets is when he attacks trans women. isn't that interesting.

i know my own father voted for him. my own father, radicalized by podcasts and bad youtube, voted for this; felt smug about it. he genuinely believes the dems want to "put christians in camps." as if the dems could ever get off their silken asscheeks and actually do anything. i wish they had strong enough messaging to be misattributed like this.

my girlfriend and i worked the polls on election day, counting ballots. my father was eating noisily beside us. "see? you're freaked out about nothing." after all, i live in massachusetts: beautiful, expensive, no-working-transportation MA. the only state to go all-blue.

"if it's state's rights, you'll be fine," he said. i'd been sworn at a few days before this. a year ago almost to the day, i got hit in the head with an empty beer bottle. he said i was being dramatic. after all, first-adopter "the gay state" Massachusetts would rather explode than get rid of same-sex marriage. so what should i care, after all.

this man is a deacon. i guess he expects me not to get out of the car in any red state. i guess he thinks my relationship dissolves across certain borders. he doesn't see why it's concerning that i can't leave, because why would i want to. who wants to go to idaho? who cares about the real, living, breathing people in idaho.

(but then again: who cares about the real, living, breathing humans on deportation planes. they're not us. after all, my father came here legally. i am an american citizen because of birthright citizenship. i am even debating this because he immigrated.)

i texted my mom about it. i feel sick. no matter how much activism and research and outreach i do: it's always shocking to see a room full of people who hate you so much that they take legal action against you. on my small ex-work-laptop, i watch the shaking hands of people in idaho begging their representatives to reconsider. the fear in their voice is palpable. no person should have their relationship threatened this way. the motion still passes, 46-24.

it's all just happening so fast. i feel i am pushing my hands through glass pieces, watching the cuts before i feel them.

people often reference "first they came for..." when stuff like this happens, and while that's fair - there's a very quiet part of me that always says they're already at your door, you complete idiot. the same force that governs trans women's bodies will also be used against cis women. the censorship about supposed "DEI terms" will also be used to stifle science in general.

it won't just be idaho.

[quarkfancam]

@soup-future an oder for you... got off track and shaded this one bc i like this creature

[mothwingwritings]

I know a lot of people like to hone in on Sylus' more dominant and teasing side, and while I do love those aspects of him what I really really love is the softer side of Sylus that he only shows to you. ♡

The Sylus that avidly listens to everything you say, drinking you in with with a dopey little grin on his face as you fill him in on everything and anything happening in your life. The Sylus that lets you decorate his chic and mature office with all the plushies you have won together from the claw machine, looking at them fondly as if they were great treasures you have scored. The Sylus that will gladly wear stupid matching kigurumi's with you in public and have fun doing it, reputation be damned. The Sylus who absentmindedly plays with your hair while you are sitting together on the couch watching a movie, sighing in contentment as his long fingers massage your scalp. The Sylus who has memorized all your favorite foods and works hard to come up with new recipes to delight you based of what he already knows you love. The Sylus who's hugs completely engulf you, squeezing and holding you like a lifeline, almost as if he's afraid to let go. The Sylus who stays glued to your side until you fall asleep each night, even though you know his day has hardly begun and he has more important things to be attending to-you always take precedence. The Sylus that wants nothing more than to see you happy and thriving, and will do whatever it takes to make that a reality.

He truly makes me weak. (╥﹏╥)

[erabu-san]

Iconic trio (quator)

[egophiliac]

bring your son to work day