#corporate neckties

[gurlu]

When he came out of the barber, he was a completely different person.

Now move out of the way, he's late for his shift...

[tojisth3rdwife]

Kento was a man of details. He noticed the little things that others often overlooked, and his keen eye missed practically nothing. So when his gaze fell upon you, the most vibrant and captivating woman he had ever encountered, he made it his mission to attune himself to every nuance about you.

Your natural hair was the first aspect that captured his attention. Its luster, its scent, its curly texture—it fascinated him. The versatility you exhibited never ceased to amaze him; you effortlessly transformed your look, switching from bouncy curls to sleek straight strands, from intricate braids to elegant locs, and accessorizing with colorful headwraps or slicked-back buns. Just as your hair shifted, so too did you linger in his thoughts.

But that day… that particular day was a turning point. You strolled past his desk, your hips swaying gently in dark slacks that hugged your curves perfectly. You wore a fitted white button-up blouse that accentuated your figure, complemented by a floral yellow scarf tied at your neck—a vibrant pop of color that momentarily distracted him before his eyes were drawn back to your hair. Every spiral bounced with your graceful gait, and in that moment, Kento knew he had to say more than just “Good morning” or lament the struggles of quarterly report week.

He felt a surge of determination as he approached your desk, nervously tugging at his necktie. Kento wasn’t much of a flirt; in fact, he didn’t see himself as one at all. Yet, he hoped that the way your eyes lit up at his compliment about your hair was a sign that he recognized you as the beauty you were. You brought a much-needed vibrancy to the drab corporate office, and the thought of you occupied his mind daily.

He wanted nothing more than to know you beyond the confines of this place, and that day marked the first step toward making that a reality.

“I’d say I almost didn’t recognize you, but that would be inaccurate,” he said, leaning against the wall of your cubicle. You glanced up, and a spark ignited in your expression at the sight of him.

God, you were stunning. From the glow of your honey-brown skin to the shimmer in your large almond-shaped eyes, you radiated beauty. When you smiled, something tightened in his chest, but he maintained his cool demeanor, betraying nothing.

“Oh? What makes you say that?” you asked, your curiosity piqued. You turned in your chair, now fully facing him, and Kento felt a rush of adrenaline. This was dangerous territory.

“Because it just would be. You’re undoubtedly the most fashionable person here; I’d be blind not to recognize you,” he replied, noting how you leaned your head slightly as you listened, a smile playing at your lips. His compliment seemed to amuse you, evident by your playful eye roll and the way you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“Oh please. You can’t say things like that when you’re dressed like a Tom Ford model every day…”

You werent even exagerateing.

Kento Nanami stood over you, a vision of polished professionalism that made your heart race. His tailored dress shirt hugged his broad shoulders just right, accentuating the lines of his physique, while the crisp tan slacks draped perfectly over his legs.

The silk tie he wore added a touch of sophistication, its deep hue contrasting beautifully with his neatly styled blond hair that framed his face with effortless charm. As he moved, a subtle yet signature cologne wafted through the air, a warm and inviting scent that lingered long after he passed by. You found yourself captivated, entranced by the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, and every glance in his direction felt electric, igniting a flutter of hope deep within you.

Flattery was clearly one of your strengths, and Kento found himself reveling in the sweet praise that rolled off your tongue.

Your tongue…

Your lips..

Both were equally full and glistening, a decadent nude shade of gloss that he imagined tasted utterly addictive. As you spoke, his attention lingered on your lips before retreating back to your eyes, warmth blooming in his chest.

“You’re far too kind,” he said, a blush creeping across his cheeks as he briefly looked down before meeting your gaze once more.

Honey-colored irises met your deep mahogany, both shades swirling in a dance of unspoken desires. Kento had no idea how nervous he made you, how the sound of his voice, even from a distance, quickened your pulse.

“Can I just say, your hair is beautiful? It always is, but today…” He hesitated, almost revealing too much before continuing, “I’ve never seen a more elegant look on you.”

If you had known that a simple wash and go would finally draw the man of your dreams to you, you would have embraced this effortless style ages ago.

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami…” you replied, a blush creeping across your cheeks as you searched for the right words.

Each syllable that slipped from your lips was buttery smooth, but to him, the sound of his surname—caramelized and decadent—was like music. He wanted to hear it again, to savor it as he basked in the warmth of your presence.

“Kento, please. Just Kento,” he insists politely, but there’s an undeniable hint of authority in his tone—one that makes you feel as if calling him anything else would be a disservice. In that moment, you realize you’d gladly oblige him, surrendering to the quiet power he exudes.

The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension, and Kento felt a sense of exhilaration.

“Okay…” you reply, a smile breaking across your face as you look up at him. With the ice finally shattered, both of your minds drift far from work, caught up in the electric connection that now filled the air between you.

This was only the beginning.

[saralutra]

This is my first artwork of the year. And an art commission. The customer was so kind to give me free reign of the motives. And I wanted to do something pink with pirates in love. Which may be extra needed, given that Max just axed the third season.... For reasons, most likely only a severely corporate minded necktie will understand. So, I am stubborn, and will stay in the fandom. With more obnoxiously in love pirates. And more obnoxiously in love pirate otters.

[starryriize]

kiss me kiss me | eunseok

— ✧ • ˳೫˚ part of my valentine event!

೫ pairing: corporate worker bf! eunseok and gf! reader

೫ summary: you surprise your boyfriend while he's stuck at work with flowers and of course, kisses! however, you didn't expect him to look so attractive.

೫ genre/word count: kinda fluffy but more suggestive! 668 words!

೫ author's note: ngl i wrote this really quickly because i didn't like the first draft of this so...here we are :)) good lord i was giggling and kicking as i wrote this fr <3 this could definitely be better though...

Eunseok rarely let the effects of lack of sleep get to him. Most days, he could easily get by with a shot of espresso and some coffee, but today was one of those days. It was one of those days when everything was thrown at him and there wasn’t enough time in the day to get it all done. His once pristine desk was now piled with papers and proposals that were meant to be finished. Reaching up to his collar, he laced his fingers under his necktie, roughly pulling it to undo the knot. 

His suit jacket was strewn across his office chair along with his discarded company badge. There was a new client that his boss had wanted to get signed before the end of the day. His phone buzzes, the dim light shining facedown on his desk. Picking up his phone, he glances at the text from you, finding it cute that you wanted to visit him with a pick-me-up.

10 minutes later, he heard the ever-familiar ding from the elevator. The soft click of your heels can be heard as you walk down the halls along with the soft whirr of the elevator going back down. You approach Eunseok's office, seeing him sitting at his desk, head resting in his hands. You open the door slowly, peeking your head in, exclaiming, "Honey! I brought some midnight snacks for us!" He perks up, eyes instantly sparkling upon seeing you in his office.

Getting up, he walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. For him, you were the cure to every single one of his problems. His hands found their way to your cheeks, wordlessly pressing his lips against yours. It was rushed, full of want and need. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush of kissing in his office, even though there was no one else in the office building. Maybe it was the stress of work, but your boyfriend looked far too good in his white shirt and loosened tie. You pull away, not wanting to give in too quickly or ignore the food that is getting cold. His eyes were glazed over as he leaned back against the front of his desk, teasing, "What? Do you want more?" You contemplate it, smirking in response, dragging your eyes up and down his figure. If he was a tease, you were the devil. Your eyes land on his loosened tie and you let your intrusive thoughts take over.

Stepping closer, you lightly trace your fingers down his white shirt, noticing how he slightly shivered at your touch. Looping a finger around the bottom of his tie, you tug it, pulling him towards you. "Hey-" he exclaims, wondering what you were doing. "Shhhh." You add, before pulling him in for a passionate kiss with his tie. The kiss was far from innocent, the only sounds that could be heard were both of your breathless moans into each other lips. Eunseok's mind was melting as you kissed him more impatiently, your tongues molding against each other. He kissed you as though you were the most decadent chocolate, savoring every taste, swallowing your pretty sighs. He dragged his hands away from your waist, dropping lower to grab your ass, giving it a little smack. “Eun-ah!” You yelp, but he chases your lips, wanting you to be the only air he breathes. He pulls you closer and the way his lips perfectly moved against yours drove you insane. By now, the food was not the snack that your boyfriend wanted, rather he wanted to have you. This moment, in his office, was simply the prelude to what would be a long night.

You both pull away, chests heaving from the lack of air, and smiling hazily at each other. "Let's continue…this at home,” he says between pants. He smiles, lopsided and dazed, as though he got drunk on the taste of your lips. You nod, catching your breath before asking him, “So, what’s for dessert tonight?”

“You.”

[yuurei20]

Epel Facts Part 22: Epel and Vil (pt1)

Vil and Epel meet for the first time before the school’s opening ceremonies have even begun, with Epel deciding that he is going to leave an impression on his new schoolmates via violence in order to make sure that he doesn’t get bullied like he was back home. 

Vil orders Epel to button up the collar of his robes immediately upon meeting him, while Epel’s first impression of Vil is of a feeble, girly person that he wants nothing to do with.

Vil compliments Epel’s physical beauty once he gets a closer look at him and Epel takes immediate offense, calling Vil weak and girly to his face (in a line that was rewritten for EN).

It seems that in the world of Twst Epel’s beauty may rival Vil’s: during Halloween, campus visitors see him and talk about having discovered the next top model.

Vil tells Epel, “The way you dress, the way you act…even the way you think is utterly devoid of any sensibility” and Epel challenges him to a fight, which Epel promptly loses.

Vil explains, “in this school, the rule is that the weak obey the strong…since you lost, you will do as I say.” Epel fears that Vil is going to take his money or make him into an errand boy, but instead Vil orders him to button up his robes, righten his belt, comb his hair and speak more politely (in a line that was rewritten on EN, but goes much deeper than simply a change in accent.)

Epel explains that he has never beaten Vil once despite challenging him every day, and has been stuck doing what he says since, as Vil has said Epel can only act as he wishes once he is capable of taking him in a fight.

Vil’s orders include but are not limited to table manners, speech patterns, participating in Film Club activities, wiping down windows, wearing a frilly shirt with his school uniform and tying his necktie in a bow, not getting into fights, fixing his posture, reading a book a week, becoming strong, and stretching properly.

When he learns about Vargas Camp Epel responds, “No matter how bad Coach Vargas gets, he can’t be more demanding than Vil.”

Vil also has Epel carve an apple for him so that he can “try one at its most beautiful.”

Vil does not seem to be above corporal punishment, tugging on Epel’s ear, pulling at his hair, smacking him in the back and gripping onto his head to emphasize his points.

[gothiccharmschool]

Hey Auntie,

I've been in a corporate office job with a very strict dress code (think suits, no colored hair, minimal accessories) for a while. I like my job, but other than small things like my pearl skull earrings and my band posters on my cubicle walls, I'm feeling bummed out that I can't really rock my usual goth stuff at work. Do you have any resources/info on small ways to incorporate goth stuff into your work wardrobe? I'm looking for ideas to make things feel a little more me instead of a costume.

Wellllll, here's this article I wrote about CorpGoth.

For a job with a really strict dress code, my immediate suggestions are:

It's easier to fold romantigoth styles into corpgoth. Ruffled blouses in black or dark jewel tones, slightly fuller skirts with a decorative ruffle or lace trim, and jackets or blazers with interesting silhouettes. (Scarlet Darkness has some items that would work for strict corporate wear.)

(I realize I am assuming you're femme -presenting. I apologize if you're not.)

As much as I realize shopping at Amazon or Shien is Not Great (ugh, the rise of fast fashion, I will not rant), if you comb through the sites you can find some interesting suit jackets that are not just, how do I put this, lawyer corporate drone -wear.

Accessories! I know you said minimal accessories, but maybe a men's dress shirt with a subtly gothy necktie would help sooth your spooky soul. Cufflinks. Stickpins. Gothy socks or tights.

I'm sorry your work wardrobe makes you feel less yourself. I hope some of my suggestions help.

[ronearoundblindly]

i believe johnny needs some attention 🤭 A, B, C, & D?

Prompts from this dirty ask game, and the answer is my general impressions of canon Human Torch. Note at the end explains why it can't be my Johnny Storm AU in the works.

MINORS DNI. This is not for you, kiddos. Sorry.

A - Alone Time

He's not a man of finesse, that's for sure. Johnny doesn't consider or analyze anything long enough to know what his preferences are--

(unscented lotion and BBW porn)

--and he also isn't consistent. He's too young to need to think of a self-care routine and spends almost no time alone.

When not training, away on mission, or doing PR--a big job as the bad-boy of the astronaut program and the most charismatic of the Four,--he goes out a lot.

He feeds off the attention (and approval) of others, and therefore masturbation...does not fill that void.

B - Bondage

Johnny doesn't have that kind of forethought, and if Sue ever heard one fucking whiff of him restraining someone...she'd use magnetic fields to squish his testicles into oblivion.

If him being tied up is what gets him laid for the night, then strap that puppy down already! Only improvised stuff, though, like scarves, neckties, fuzzy cuffs, or whatever.

Johnny is a speed demon in every aspect of life. Bondage takes time, limits sex positions, slows him down (when moving others), and just...yeah, not appealing.

C - Crying

What type of crying we talking? If he's just met you, and suddenly, you're blubbering about how your boss treats you or some deep-seated family trauma, Johnny will jump out the window to get away.

Now, shedding tears because of how amazing his cock feels stretching you out and because he's the best fuck you've ever had...well, he can understand that. You go ahead and cry. The only soothing he'll be doing is to keep going.

Otherwise, he's got nothing.

No sweet words. No compulsion to talk about it. No intention of diving deeper and getting to know you.

Johnny is a one-trick pony in this department (sex); there's rarely a second hookup.

D - Dominance

His existence feels like a perpetual game. Johnny is always leveling up after a boss battle, and his life--his real life--amounts to nothing more than side quests.

Naturally, he's a take-whatever-he-wants and do-whomever-whenever-he-pleases type of guy. It's not dominance or submission.

He's amused when his bed partner shows some initiative or control, but he doesn't need them to. He is used to taking over, thinking on his feet, and finishing a job.

He's what we might call a 'practical dom.' He takes over out of necessity. If Johnny slowed down enough to really listen to and bond with someone, he'd have and existential crisis and fall apart.

That's why he's only alone when passed out drunk or exhausted. He won't survive self-reflection.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I couldn't answer almost any of these using Johnny from Phantom Pleasure because that's ghost!Reader. Bondage? Of a ghost? Probably not. Crying? Eh, long story, but unlikely. Dominate a non-corporeal entity? Yeah, no. And, weirdly enough, being alone? When a ghost could be there but not visible? Oops! (Yes, reader gets to see Johnny's alone time routine in that tale. Teehee. It's the opening scene lol.)

[lord-byrons-ghost]

Salut et Fraternité, my dear Citizen George - (that you pretend to the title of Lord I am aware, but I cannot acknowledge aristocratic pretensions; as for my addressing you by christian rather than last name, you will agree it is much more comic.) For an Englishman, your sentiments appear tolerably reasonable, and your letters are certainly amusing; however, I have a strong objection to make to your mentioning Monsieur de Chevalier Saint Just within them and never once mentioning me, despite the fact it is quite clear to any with the least knowledge of the fashions and intellectual currents of this age that your Style is conspicuously derived from mine! In order to demonstrate this point beyond question, let me draw your attention to the portrait of myself by  Citizen Joseph Boze: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camille_Desmoulins#/media/File:Camille_Desmoulins_-_Joseph_Boze.png.

You here perceive, unless you are quite as blind and as provincial as Polyphemus, serpentine and lightly disheveled dark curls, a melancholy and brooding air, a distinctly classical nose and mouth, a luminous and restless eye, and a frilled necktie half-hidden by the shadows of the palette, which catch up and intensify the dim mystery of the sitter; all of which, mon cher Christmas (as such, I have been informed, is the name you prefer to go by), are now ignorantly termed to be Byronic attributes, as if no one but George Gordon Noel Byron, 6th Baron Byron, had ever employed them! Add to this your scathing wit, your appreciation of the glories of the Ancients, your predilection for writing with a hangover, your swiftly-shifting humours of unseasonable gaiety and black despair, your habit of throwing your countrymen into fits of puzzlement and concern and incurring banishment for carmen et error, and it becomes a simple case of plagiarism! You may think yourself extremely Original in engaging in incest, calculating, no doubt, that I would not have had time for the pursuit in the midst of all my patriotic duties, but if that is the only defence you can find it will not do at all. You had better reply with all haste, as I already have a philippic forming in my head, and if I grow bored in the interim, or simply become very attached to the phrases, you shall not be able to prevent me from publishing it.

Yours with slanderous intent,

@thelanterneattorney

Dear God, what a veritable wall of words! I doubt any poor fellow was before presented with his faults in such a devilish involved manner - & I am used to missives that look like essays - my lovers send them all too oft - & usually burn the fattest ones when my debts disallow coals. Heigho, pistols at dawn et al it is then! Let us see if I can make a sentence string together well enough in prose to answer this, without becoming more ennuyé than is usual of that yawning verb.

Firstly: George?! Of all the conjugations of my name, that one has fallen into such a disrepute that it is almost as obscure as the locative & about as oft used. You hardly insult me - simply perplex, which seems your usual mode of carrying on - & to be addressed as a citizen of a republic I admire & who gave birth to the new Caesar can be taken as nothing save a compliment! I had far rather be French, Italian or Grecian than inhabit ye nook-shotten isle of the stinking corporal Arthur. However, I beg to correct your assumption of my nationality - I was born & raised in Aberdeen, & as such am more Scots than English - & ask you to to at least use Geordie, if you must be so damn familiar.

Next, my correspondence: aforementioned reference to the Chevalier Saint-Just is not within my letters - which would be a plain case of traitorous friends - of which I have many - or traitorous lovers - of which devils there are still more - but it makes up an entry in mine journal from 1813-14. This suggests burglary - Massena @chicksncash, if you helped him I swear by Jove to call you out! - which is far more concerning when coming from a rather insane journaliste. I believe property is sacred under your Declaration of the Rights of Man &c, & so if you would give me back my deuced scribblings, I would be grateful.

Yon portrait is lacking from ye missive, so I shall ask Teresa to aid me in supplying a copy of it alongside one of my own, for comparison:

'Pon the subject of my supposed plagiarismes: My curls are certainly not serpentine - simply charmingly windswept, as is to be expected from traipsing about in sublimity - & bear not the lightest resemblance to ye ancient tempted the Serpent, being far too short. As for this melancholia of air - Phah! I have no such sullen countenance as yours - although I am a devil in a mood - nor do I look upon death's door with consumption. Yon "dim mystery of the sitter" is certainly the kind of trash dear Polly-Dolly would write about me, but is hardly apropos from a man of some literary talent. This Byronic air you speak of is hardly the depression of the incarcerated firebrand, as is evident in your portrait, but simply the inevitable absence of ye world traveller pondering the mountains & smoking.

I admit that I gain some attributes of my manner of carrying on from you, but is not imitation the sincerest form of flattery? If ayne fellow of talent - @franzliszt-official for example - came up to me with a reputation for imitating my mannerisms, I should offer him hock & soda on ye spotte! My only defence for stealing your gay moods & melancholia is that I found you fascinating as an infant, & something about your heroism must have wormed into my unformed mind to lodge there.

Your final point is one no gentleman would make, let alone acknowledge. I do not know what that harpy my wife has been saying, but her words are driven by spite and disappointment in my "failure to reform", & are not worth their damn salt. You would do well to refrain from mentioning such toss again.

Yr humble servante,

Byron.

[blusterb8]

From Corporate Smug to Menial Humble.

He will have to sell all of those silk neckties. Before and After Blue Collarization series

[ferronite]

limbus oc EGO concept sketches :)

Just some quick concept things cuz the ideas wouldn't leave our head. Featuring Mint and Amaryn :) the eye covering duo. Sad Man and the guy who's convinced he's an AI.

Ramblings and uncoloured sketches under the cut

Rambling time~

so. Mint. Our depressed ex-teacher who hasn't experienced joy in five years. (His school got destroyed in a violent revolution by the students and he was the only survivor. Specifics would take too long to write out but if you want to know just ask. :3)

Bygone Days is a pretty obvious choice~ the hairstyle is based off his past self, the bird thing is the figurehead that broke off his hammer (or at least is based on it), and the necktie has the colourscheme of his dead friend/love interest :)

The other one was just the Vibes really. Lone survivor and all that. Fun to draw tho!

Amaryn! The guy who believes they're an AI and so lives in constant fear of the Head. Anger issues and paranoia galore (it's why he never has their ID tag visible and conceal carries all their weapons), but he's got good tactics! Escaped from an experimental laboratory in the Outskirts. Again, won't go into more detail here cuz this would go on forever~

Hex Nail is cuz of all the fun stuff from the lab. (he's got a lot of augmentations! And trauma.) The nail thru his head (haha lobotomy. Like the corporation) is related to his supposed brain surgery and would also be the weapon during his attack :)

Steam Transport is again more of the vibes. "What i was made to do" and all that. Not completely happy with how it turned out but these were just quick sketches sooo.

Oh shit the uncoloured ones

Oops~ forgot them lol

[designyourtie]

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[rustbeltjessie]

Chicago Noise (Love Letter to Steve Albini) by Jarret Keene

How many boys want to be whipped by Steve Albini’s guitar? -Sonic Youth bassist/singer Kim Gordon

Woke up this morning, as usual, hungry for white-boy noise and black coffee. Popped in – what else? – Big Black’s Songs About *!?king and blasted it at full volume on the home stereo so I could feel every

drum-machine wallop in my molars, every lacerating riff against my face, those places where noise really hits me when its good and loud. Steve, there’s something about your band Big Black

in the morning that helps me to more effectively hate birds outside my window as they chirp ridiculous tunes about nothing to no one, something in the serrated edges of the song “Pavement Saw” and

the slaughterhouse fury of “Colombian Necktie” that transports me to the Loop, jostling around inside a metal tube across an ice-cold, urban-Midwest landscape of old, bombed-out meatpacking plants.

Like it’s a clear day in March and I’m taking it all in – the canyons of LaSalle, the cliffs of Michigan Avenue, the public artworks �� and there’s this satanic chainsaw behind my ears, eager to sink

its teeth into my skull, turning my lights out and then everyone else’s. This noise is dirty and yet so pure that I can’t help feeling even more comfortable in my alienation, even happier in hostile

territory. I imagine myself lying down like a lamb at the paws of a lion guarding the stairs of the Art Institute. I picture myself walking into a Wicker Park record shop (a real record shop that

actually sells, you know, vinyl) and asking the skinny, unfriendly employees there if they might sell me another Big Black LP. And when they scowl at me with an expression that says “Why don’t

you already own that record, poser?” all I can say to my fellow rock snobs is leave me alone, because I’m armed and dangerous, and about to vaporize Cloud Gate in Millenium Park, to rip

the girders from Calder’s red-orange flamingo-looking thing perched in front of the Federal Center with my incisors before flame-broiling it oh-so-slowly with an acetylene torch until the steel is tender enough

to eat with a plastic spork, to challenge the next thrash band to play the Double Door to a demolition derby-style mosh pit involving broken beer bottles and our bare chests and bags of salt.

And if anyone asks about the point of this tsunami of sucking nihilism, this whole tortured carnival ride, let me say that it’s my chance to ignore the terrifying silence at the end of this caffeinated daydream.

Anyhow, Steve, just thought I’d write you a quick letter letting you know how much your anti-corporate band gets me dreaming of Chicago and prepares me for another gray and greasy day

of corporate enslavement, chained to my cubicle, hoping for a moment to shut down my computer and loosen my tie, straining to hear a measure, the merest note, of the sweet music of birds.

[dotversion2]

Dot Explains the Plot of Library of Ruina

Thank you to everyone who read the first part. It's been fun compiling all of these into something a bit more solidified than the mad ramblings I typed out on Discord between shifts at work.

All the same content warnings apply from before.

Chapter 2: Urban Myth

We open on a conversation between a handful of unknown individuals discussing the 'Distortion Phenomenon.' They list a couple of possible sources for the bizarre happenings but get nowhere. We will learn who these speakers are later.

We return to Roland and Angela having a conversation about the status of the Library. Roland says he's starting to get a handle of how his job works. Angela says that she is curious as to why he is so accepting of her orders. She can tell that he is not motivated by fear. Roland admits that there are things about the Library that he's curious about. There's also 'something' that he's been meaning to find the meaning of and he thinks this might be the only place he'll get his answer. Angela is pleased to see that the two of them have a coincidence of interests and is fine with him 'exploiting' her and her Library as she exploits him to handle receptions. Roland is a bit unsure about her wording but drops the issue when she gets prickly about her past. Roland asks Angela what is up with the other Librarians, admitting that they don't 'feel human.' Angela explains that she, the Abnormalities, and the other Librarians can only exist in the Library and would disappear without it. She laments that they all shared the same past of originating as humans, being taken advantage of, and then discarded. Roland asks if this is a form of exploitation in itself; Angela rebukes the idea and explains that, if she hadn't acted, all of them wouldn't be here to begin with. Furthermore, once she completes her goal, she and all the other Librarians will be able to leave together.

The Floor of Technological Sciences

Technically this floor opens at the end of Canard and not the beginning of Urban Myth but that is a minor trifle. After clearing Hook Office, Roland goes looking through the Library again when he notices that it has grown another floor. He enters the newly arisen Floor of Technology and spies a dour-looking man standing near a window. Roland greets him warmly only to be met by a cold, focused stare. Roland feels like he's about to be attacked only for the man to walk over and fix Roland's loose necktie in an extremely homoerotic way. He introduces himself as Yesod, Patron Librarian of the Floor of Technological Sciences. He was previously the head of the Information Department at Lobotomy Corporation and another Sephirah. He asks Roland why he goes along with Angela's orders without question. Roland responds that he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter and tries to bridge the gap by offering him a handshake. It throws Yesod off, much to the thinly-veiled delight of the Fixer. Yesod tells him to fuck off and he does.

Urban Myth Receptions

The first reception is of Pierre's Bistro, a restaurant in District 23 that cooks and serves people. They are up to their usual bullshit and mostly offer Roland a chance to exposition dump about how each District of the City has its own particular culture and weirdness. District 23 is the only place in the City where cannibalisms isn't considered a massive taboo because the culture of the District is built around the pursuit of the perfect dish and they believe that the best path towards this has been through munching on people. Pierre briefly ponders what Angela tastes like (as she is not human) before both she and her sous-chef get got.

The second reception is of the Streetlight Office, a Fixer Office that genuinely tries very hard to make their little corner of the Backstreets better for those living in it and is affiliated with the Zwei Association. We enter on a scene of two of the Office's Fixers, Lulu and Mars, bantering about their recent dry patch of work. Lulu is even considering transferring to a different Office but Mars doesn't think she has the expertise to make the jump and would be better off staying put to beef up her resume. The arguing starts anew when Lulu realizes that Mars ate a piece of cake she had been saving in the fridge. Their boss, San, enters to explain they have a new job: investigating the Library. While the job is under the table and not officially sanctioned, it comes with an Urban Legend-sized paycheck. San shows the Invitation that he was given, originally intended for someone else. Lulu and Mars disagree with taking the job but San promises the pair a nice dinner if they finish the job.

Back in the Library, Angela asks Roland about some of the terms that the Streetlight Office used. Roland explains that Fixer Offices are usually associated with one of 12 Fixer Associations (each one associated with a number). He also explains that there is an internal grading system used by the Hana Association (Hana is one in Korean) to explain the prevalence of the various phenomenon within the City. The ratings are Canard, Urban Myth, Urban Legend, Urban Plague, Urban Nightmare, and Star of the City (and one more that we'll talk about when we get there). Canards are often not even real while Urban Myths tend to be at least 'something.' Angela goes to greet the Office as they arrive, noticing their comradery. San asks if it is okay for them to use an Invitation originally sent to someone else; Angela explains that the Invitation made it to them meaning it was meant for them. San reminds the group to flee if things get too hairy and they enter the reception. As the battle turns against the Office, Mars holds the Receptionists at bay so Lulu and San can escape. After the battle, Roland laments that it is a rookie mistake for a Fixer to have personal connections with the others in their life as it makes losing people that much harder. Angela questions how he came to such a conclusion so casually and he says that it is important to maintain detachment and that he learned that lesson the hard way.

Lulu and San mourn the loss of their comrade. San blames himself for getting them involved with the Library and plans on taking it up with the Zwei. Lulu screams at San that getting the Association involved would make Mars's death worthless if they don't handle it themself. San lets Lulu blame him, voicing his own regrets. Lulu goes to the fridge to get a drink when she sees that there is a replacement slice of cake. She asks San about it and he says that he didn't buy it. Lulu steps out the office and into the rain, screaming as she realizes that Mars had bought a replacement slice for her before they went to the Library. Her blind fury is broken when she looks at her feet and sees an Invitation offering the book of Mars. She calls in every favor she can before returning to the Library…

After the battle, Angela asks Roland for his insight on what just occurred. Roland admits that he isn't heartless but he considers death part of the life of a Fixer. Angela notes that Roland talks with the air of a veteran yet describes himself as a washed-up Fixer. Roland refuses to elaborate but Angela doesn't pry, stating she could simply turn him into a book and read his secrets if she so desired. Roland swiftly changes the topic, asking Angela what her thoughts on what happened are. She says that she feels completely indifferently. Her time at Lobotomy Corporation required her to see employees die over and over again, sometimes for reasons far less dignified than this. She explains that this is why she set up the Library the way she did: to give Guests the freedom of choice without feeling coerced. Roland still believes that the situation is weighed in their favor since Angela can revive dead Librarians. Angela is visibly annoyed; Roland backs off, concluding that her methods are still far more fair than other the rest of the City.

The Floor of Literature

Upon clearing the first half of the Streetlight Office Reception, the Floor of Literature opens. Roland goes to meet the Patron Librarian, bitterly amused that a whole floor is dedicated to a topic he believes isn't fit for the City. He meets the Patron, Hod, who politely introduces herself. She was previously the Department Head of the Training Team at Lobotomy Corporation. Roland asks if she holds a grudge against Angela; Hod admits that she isn't friends with the Head Librarian but she does plan on honoring the deal they made to its fullest. Roland asks why everyone hates Angela. Hod tells him that Angela did something unforgivable, though she considers herself no better. Roland says he wants the tension to resolve itself. Hod reassures him that, if he stays through Angela's plan, she's sure that things will improve. Hod invites Roland to sit and let out some of his frustration. He vents that his work handling Receptions is stressful and he wishes that interacting with the Librarians could be less tense. Hod says she doesn't have good answers to why people can't coexist peacefully but believes that they may find answers in the books he brings her. Roland is a little annoyed that she seems to be giving evasive answers but believes that, since he got himself into this mess, he needs to get himself out of it. Hod supports his endeavors and strives to help him (for which he is very appreciative).

And that is more or less everything that happens in Urban Myth. I haven't been covering all the individual conversations between Roland and the Patron Librarians (even though they are very good) because they would probably bloat this out even further. That said, enjoy this CG of all the rectangles seen during one of Yesod's flashbacks.

Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

[siobhanhazel]

Once Upon a Time - HP Rec Fest 2024

Once Upon a Time by busaikko (podfic version by malnpudl)

Gen - Dudley. Rated: G. Words: 1,200. Trans Femme Dudley, Harry Potter, Cousins, Transgender, Post-Canon,

Day 26 Prompt: a fic under 5k In which Dudley discovers who she really is. Warm, good feels all around. I wish I could give justice to this fic with an amazingly worded review but, all I can manage with my exhausted brain is to yell READ IT.

The writing is so tight and impactful. The character portrayal of Dudley is just chef’s kiss. It’s such a heartfelt 1,200 words. Excerpt (the first two paragraphs):

Dudley's got five suits in the closet, one for each day of the week, and three chins like a ladder up from necktie to scowl, and a solid German car for driving to the corporate headquarters of Consolidated Demolitions, Ltd., every morning at half past seven. Dudley sits with thighs pushing knees wide apart, and drips sweat climbing the stairs, and when the receptionist snipes under her breath it's not like you can eat yourself happy Dudley throws such a wobbler that the next day she applies for a transfer to the department of breaking big things into little things with hammers. She starts Dudley thinking about happiness, though, which leads to thinking about unhappiness. Once upon a time, Dudley had the pleasures of life sucked out by an invisible creeping horror. Knowing that evil really existed, waiting just around the corner from normal life, made it hard to go back to school. After that, Dudley was afraid of being put in the cupboard under the stairs, afraid of dirty old clothes and sharp words and birthdays with no presents or cake, of being laughed at by friends. It's an unpleasant shock to trace the roots of those fears down into the childhood certainty that if ever Dudley were a freak like Harry, there'd be no more love, ever.

★★★ Check out my other HP Rec Fest 2024 recs ★★★

@hprecfest

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 The Insulindian Miracle

2. "He's a beautiful man. Beautiful and *just*."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Just? Hmm... in what way?"

"In a funky socialist way. He looks out for the people."

"In a nice, crunchy, white working class way of course."

"Yeah, he's not actually just, is he? He's useless."

+1 Communism

JOYCE MESSIER - "Of course. *Some* of them, at least. The ones who work for him -- how else would he have stayed in power all these years... no wait, actually..."

"Corruption! That's how he's done it. Fantastic, würm-like corruption reaching into the bowels of the Earth." She looks at the ground and nods.

KIM KITSURAGI - "The position of my *unusual* colleague does not reflect official policy. I hope you understand -- the RCM does not pick sides."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Of course -- and I don't expect you to share anything he told you with me. I am not a *corrupt würm* myself." She turns to you: "However, if you felt like *discussing* something..."

"...how could I stop you? Are we not human? Are we not *curious* to hear another person's take? It's only natural. We would only be..." she smiles, "gossiping."

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] - Don't fall for it, it's a ploy to get you talking. The honey-mouthed syllables, the smiling, the conspiratorial jokes, all of it!

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Intellectually speaking... it would be quite *interesting* to hear what she has to say about these things...

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - Tell her, she'll *like* you for it.

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - Yes! Your disgusting tie agrees completely. Let's *gossip*.

Sorry, Volition, you're outvoted.

"That money you gave me -- would that make things... *weird*? If I shared information, I mean?"

"Mr. Evrart is helping me find my gun."

"I helped him turn up the heat on the borscht."

"I'd rather talk about something else for now, if you don't mind." (Conclude.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "Weird? Oh no. One of the positive things to come from the Revolution is the *unhindered* exchange of information, you see, even when it comes to *trade secrets*..."

"Which isn't to suggest our talks constitute *corporate espionage*. Even *if* they did -- it would be fine. But they don't, since you logged the money as a donation and this is *clearly* just gossip between friends."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - The lieutenant might have -- but I don't remember you logging anything as anything, Harry.

2. "Mr. Evrart is helping me find my gun."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Oh!" Her eyes become large and round. "That's so *helpful* of him..."

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant looks at you and you can swear his jaw muscle is trembling.

-1 Reputation

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - He's able to contain the anger and surprise.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - When I said *be wacky* I didn't mean *wildly, grossly irresponsible and damaging to the RCM*.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Unconventional police officers sometimes *lose* their guns. They then go around and tell people about this -- to gauge their reactions. It's all part of *detecting*."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Incredible," she shakes her head. "Simply incredible -- and how is it going? Has this *detecting* produced a gun?"

"No."

"Mr. Evrart says it's *almost* ready to be found soon."

"Mr. Evrart is helping me find my gun."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Ah yes. As you said." She looks confused for a moment.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Please don't get him in a loop. If he gets in a loop it will last *forever*. Ask him to say something else please."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - That's wrong! You don't get into loops!

JOYCE MESSIER - "Of course. Thank you for the advice -- I'm glad you were here to assist." She turns to you: "Your *other* dealings with Evrart are still of considerable interest to me..."

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - The lieutenant will be more lenient toward sharing those, hopefully.

3. "I helped him turn up the heat on the borscht."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Did you now?" She's intrigued, if a little confused. "What sort of borscht is he making?"

"Unimportant."

"The cook makes it to keep the strikers drunk. Helps them strike."

JOYCE MESSIER - "The strike brew," she nods. "That's a classic. And by *turn up the heat* I presume you mean *put more alcohol in it*?"

"Yes."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Why, if I may ask? Why make them *more* drunk? Aren't they corked enough already?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes, detective -- what *were* you hoping to accomplish with this strange thing?"

"An act born of sympathy for the working man. I set fire to the fumes of struggle."

"I worship Al Gul in many ways."

"It's uninteresting, I thought it would make the broth taste better."

+1 Communism

JOYCE MESSIER - "Very curious." She blinks both eyes. "A very curious thing to do."

+5 XP

KIM KITSURAGI - "Truly, but that's how he operates. He just does things, ma'am. And then talks about them -- even if it's inappropriate."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - A strange equanimity has overtaken the lieutenant. He's just going with the flow now. Easier that way.

JOYCE MESSIER - "What else?"

We don't have anything else on Evrart to tell Joyce just yet.

4. "I'd rather talk about something else for now, if you don't mind." (Conclude.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "Of course, detective," she simmers down. "Should something come up, later down the road -- don't be afraid to drop by for a chat."

"Until then -- is there anything *I* can help *you* with?"

I exited Joyce's dialogue to make a quick save, but talking to her after midnight opened a new topic of conversation.

JOYCE MESSIER - "You're back. Good." She takes a sip from her silvery thermal cup. "What can I help you with -- at this late hour?"

"It's night. Don't you ever sleep?"

"Answer me a question."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Matter of fact, I don't." She takes another sip.

"Why is that?"

(Better not to poke further) "That's good. This way you can answer me some questions."

JOYCE MESSIER - "I have a medical condition of my own -- nothing unusual, though. I'm *old* you see."

"Old, huh? I think I have that too."

"No you're not. You look young."

(Better not to poke further) "That's good. This way you can answer me some questions."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Don't worry. It's curable -- with *questions*. Ask me some, it'll help pass this night."

7. "I've got some more questions about *reality*."

JOYCE MESSIER - "More lessons in basic reality?" She's positively surprised. "My favourite part of the day! Go ahead, ask me anything."

8. [Volition - Medium 10] Ask for Kim to step away while you discuss the pale.

+1 Kim trusts you.

VOLITION [Medium: Success] - Good idea. Just ask him. He won't make a scene.

"Kim, can I talk to the ma'am alone for a second?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Fine." He steps away with his notes.

VOLITION - See? What can he do. You're a grown man.

"Now -- what is the pale?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Are you sure you're sure? Your colleague seemed adamant..."

"Yes -- what is the pale?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Okay." She concedes. "The pale is the most dominant geological feature of the world, detective -- the separative tissue between the isolas. It is the interisolary mass."

"Wait, and what is an isola?"

"Okay... what is the pale *like*?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "*Isola* is a Messinian word for a continent of matter, enveloped on all sides by the pale. Also: isolation, or land mass. We used to believe there was only one. In the last four centuries we have discovered seven..."

"Mundi, Seol, Samara, Iilmaraa, Graad, Katla, and this -- Insulinde."

"And Insulinde is...?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "An oceanic isola. It comprises mostly of water. Mundi is the largest, Katla the coldest, Insulinde the bluest. What can I say..." She stops. "Each is perishing and dear."

"Okay... what is the pale *like*?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Achromatic, odourless, featureless. The pale is the enemy of matter and life. It is not *like* any other -- or *any* thing in the world. It is the transition state of being into nothingness."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - The negation of being.

"The negation of..."

JOYCE MESSIER - "That's right -- the negation of being." She tightens her hood around her neck, it's cold outside.

"Is it... here?" (Look around.)

"What are its physical qualities?"

"If we're surrounded by pale, how do you get from isola to isola?"

"How much pale is there compared to the world?"

"Let's return to reality, please." (Conclude.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "No, detective, we're safe." She points to the sea. "It begins there, 6,000 kilometres to the north, and even more to the south, east, and west. You are in the middle of the isola."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - As your gaze instinctively turns north, a small black pit opens up in your stomach.

"Six thousand kilometres from the end of the world?"

"And... (point north) ...there?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Yes -- that is enough. Many cities are built *much* closer."

"And… (point north) …there?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "An uproar of matter, darling, *rising* into the pale. Rolling. Evaporating even, a great vision. The area of transition between the world and the pale is called *porch collapse*."

"Imagine a grey coronal mist, cold vapour, marked by spores of an opportunistic microorganism -- a mould that's adapted to grow at the edge of the unrest. It's…"

She closes her eyes and breathes out heavily: "... the most *disco* thing you will ever see."

2. "What are its physical qualities?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "It's difficult to describe -- or even measure -- something whose fundamental property is the suspension of properties: physical, epistemological, linguistic..."

"The further into pale you travel, the steeper the degree of suspension. Right down to the mathematical -- *numbers* stop working. No one has yet passed the number barrier. It may be impossible."

3. "If we're surrounded by pale, how do you get from isola to isola?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Oh, it is..." Her lungs deflate, her words sound like a sigh, "...*so* difficult for us."

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] - A squall of birds, hardware operating in the harbour. Firm, self-evident.

JOYCE MESSIER - "It is possible to force dimensions on the pale -- in modern times we can even compress its latitude, bouncing radio waves from one end to the other. Shortening the path."

"But it is still hard for humans to navigate the pale without getting lost. Or having our minds damaged."

3. "The pale can damage the mind?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Extensively."

"How?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Some say the damage stems from extreme sensory deprivation. Others argue that pale somehow *consists* of past information, that's degrading. That it's rarefied past, not rarefied matter."

"They call it *the blend-over of the self*. The pale does not only suspend the laws of physics, but also the laws of psychology, maybe History, even... The human mind becomes over-radiated by past."

"What does this over-radiation feel like?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "It feels terrible. Absolutely terrible. International standards strictly limit civilian travellers to six days of pale exposure per year..."

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - It's more for her -- way more.

"*You're* not a civilian passenger?"

Let it go.

JOYCE MESSIER - "No, Lieutenant Du Bois. I'm 'Entroponetic Business Class.' I'm cleared -- and trained -- for 22 days of pale transit annually."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Perhaps that explains her strange pining after the Revolution? Some degraded early memories...

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - Someone *else* you've met may have been *exposed* as well. The strange grey-haired woman in her lorry.

"Do *lorry drivers* pass the pale?"

"Are *you* over-radiated?"

"*You're* not a civilian passenger?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Yes. Carried in the hulls of airships," she nods. "It's a horrific job. Automation will abolish it, soon."

+5 XP

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] - You should ask the Paledriver about this. See what she says.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - That poor woman must have stories to tell like you wouldn't imagine...

2. "*You're* not a civilian passenger?"

JOYCE MESSIER - She's looking out toward the sea, what at, it's hard to say.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - She's over-radiated. And then some.

5. "What is *entroponetic*?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "*Entroponetics*," she corrects, "is the scientific study of the pale. Or a recent iteration of it, by way of Graad. The study of the pale reaches back 6,000 years -- the Perikarnassians called it the Western Plain."

"Did they... cross it? The Western Plain?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "There *are* signs of pretermodern crossings. Successful navigation of the pale relies not just on technical know-how, but intensive psychological preparation. Some of these tactics have been known for thousands of years."

"What has entroponetics changed then?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Nothing. We remain powerless before the pale. The only real advance in pale transit is the speed with which an aerostatic craft can pierce it. Less exposure leads to less... *effects* later."

"Aerostatic craft?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Hybrid airships, detective. Conventional rotors or jet engines no longer add velocity after the point of reference for motion is suspended -- once you've crossed from near pale to far pale..."

"In essence, we throw them in and they come out the other end -- if we throw them precisely."

"If we do not?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Then they don't."

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] - Gone -- like a skipping stone beneath the surface.

6. "How much pale is there compared to the world?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "The pale outweighs reality two to one -- there is more pale than there is matter. And the ratio is slipping."

"Slipping how? To our detriment or…"

JOYCE MESSIER - "What do you think, detective?" She looks you in the eye.

"It's shrinking. There is more and more of the world."

"It's growing. There is more and more of the pale."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Precisely. One of the few measurable effects of the pale is that it is expanding at an unknown rate."

"An intuitive conclusion of that development is that one day the pale will cover everything -- but this sort of talk is mostly left to extremists."

"It's not extreme at all. It's going to happen."

"Cover *everything*? That can't be. Where would we go..."

Stay silent.

JOYCE MESSIER - "Most people -- and indeed most private and government sector organizations; entire civilizations and religions even -- find handy ways to ignore, or downplay that knowledge."

"I suggest you do the same."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - *Off we go...* you see the hanged man's mouth open.

"Off we go into the wild pale yonder."

JOYCE MESSIER - "One and all," she closes her eyes. "They say pale is death, but for the Universe."

INLAND EMPIRE - Why should we just leave and leave -- and the world get left behind?

7. "Let's return to reality, please." (Conclude.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "Yes, sweet reality," she stomps her foot. "But before we do, tell me detective..."

"Is this the first time you're hearing this? Do you really not remember anything?"

"Nothing. Just alcohol fumes and blackout."

"I sometimes sense vague shadows of a past, and it's not good."

"I'm getting a sense of who I am, but no, I didn't know this."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Then tell me -- what do you *think* of the pale?"