#humbly asking for name suggestions in the ask box

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blind Offer 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: I've been feeling a bit off lately so thank you all for distracting me. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

After closing, you’re due for an opening shift. The abrupt shift in your schedule leaves you little off-time but right on the other side, you have a much needed day off. You’re relieved not to be left to think too much in the unfamiliar house and hopeful that by the time your time off comes, your apartment will be ready for your return.

That morning, you’re running on coffee and the promise of the cinnamon bun you bought on your way in. You work through the price changes in the digital imaging section. The cameras are the biggest pain as you have to unlock the cases to replace the old tags.

You get to the Sony section and end up on your knees, fighting the glass door as it rolls off the track. The podcast buzzing in your ear fades as your frustration gets the best of you. You lean back, your shoulder brushing against an unexpected presence behind you.

You wince and pop your earbud out, craning to look over your shoulder at the man browsing cameras past you. His eyes meet yours with a twinkle as he points to the case, “you know much about these?”

You shake your head, “sorry.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smirks, the expression made devious by the trim of dark blond across his lip. He squats down beside you, “nah? I was looking for a starter camera but I need something with strong range.”

You nod and force a smile, “um, well, these are pretty basic, I think. They don’t have any extra lenses,” you look around, searching for one of the DI salesmen, “I could find someone–”

“I’m asking for your help, honeybun,” he coos, “what’s the zoom on these things?”

You feel heat speck on your forehead and cheeks. You’re not the best with customers. It’s easy enough if they know what they’re looking for but you’re useless with telling them what they need. You turn back and grab one of the small boxes. You turn it over and read the specs.

“Uh… 30x zoom…” you say, “I guess that’s pretty good.”

“Hmm,” he clicks his tongue, “I’m looking for something stronger. Stronger’s always better, isn’t it, sugarpie?”

His strange pet names put you off. Some old ladies will call you hon and some old men will call you young lady, but he’s a lot younger and not as endearing. You put the camera back and look along the row.

“Yeah, I think maybe you need to look at the bigger cameras,” you point over the case, “they’re along that wall–”

“You like it bigger?” He intones with a snicker, “you a size queen?”

You recoil, taken aback by his suggestion. Ew. You shake your head and turn back to the case, “sorry, sir, I don’t know anything about cameras. I’ll see if I can get a salesman over here.” You grab the wire of your headset and hit the button, “can I get someone over to DI?”

You let go of the button as the earpiece crackles. The man doesn’t move, “you know, I don’t mind a little extra. Especially in the trunk.”

You ignore him as you peel away the fresh stickers and press them to the front of the shelves. The heat of his lingering figure has you unable to get your fingernail under the corner of a label. You want to run and hide in the warehouse. You’re just too nervous to tell him to go away, Gwen would write you up.

“Hey,” Jamie appears from the other end of the aisle, “looking for a camera, sir?”

The man behind you doesn’t stand right away. When he does, he reaches close to you, gripping the top of the case to push himself up to his feet. You turn and mouth a thank you to Jamie as he gives a long look at the man behind you.

“Sure am,” the customer brushes by you closely. You watch the back of his head, shaved close around the sides, the top pieces longer and slicked back neatly. He walks with a certain lean to his step, his shoulders squared, his gait confident but casual. He gives you the ick.

You focus on your sheet of price changes. He’s not your problem anymore. You just hope you can through that section before he finds what he’s looking for. You somehow suspect he’s in no hurry to leave.

🖤

You get back to the townhouse just after five. It’s later than you usually get in but you’re just happy to be done. You haven’t been able to shake that feeling that’s followed you all day. Ever since that man approached you in the store, you’ve felt as if you’re being watched.

You walk the block and a half from the nearest stop and turn onto the quiet street of newly built townhouses. Despite the sighting of a neighbour, it still feels derelict. You check the number beside the door as you head up the walk to the doorstep. As you do, you hear a whistle.

You stop and turn back as you hear footsteps approaching. It’s only then you notice the white van parked along the far curb. A man runs over in a blue uniform with a box under his thick arm. Burly and broad, you almost cower as he waves and approaches.

“You live here?” he asks as his eyes flick up to the iron numbers mounted besides the door, “number four?”

“Um, I’m… crashing here, yeah,” you swallow, “it’s actually not my place–”

“I got a package,” he shifts the parcel and reads the label. 

You can just see his features beneath the shadow of his cap brim, long lashes, square jaw, a touch of stubble and a thick mustache across his lip. You hate that those are making a comeback. You shiver as it reminds you of the man in the store, but this man has darker hair, a curl poking out from his hate.

“For Steve Rogers?”

“Yeah, erm, that’s my landlord. This is his place,” you point over your shoulder with the thumb.

“Right, well, it doesn’t need a signature, so if you could pass it off to him.”

“I don’t know–”

“I don’t really feel like driving back out here tomorrow. This isn’t my route,” he says tersely.

You snap your mouth shut. Wow, okay. You shrug and reach out to take the box.

“Sure, I can get it to him. Sorry.”

“Thanks,” he hands it over and looks back and forth down the street, “quiet neighbourhood, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess… just finished development so–”

“Fancy places. Expensive,” he continues on, “your landlord must really like you.”

You frown and hug the package, “uh, he’s nice. Anyway, I’m sure you got other deliveries to make.”

He scoffs as you turn away. You’re succinctly aware of him as you move your body to block the code as you punch it in. 

“Too good for the delivery boy,” he mutters darkly, “have a good day, miss fancy pants.”

“Have a good day,” you squeak and push your way into the townhouse, spinning to shut the door.

You twist the latch as you lean on the door. You slowly lean over and peek past the curtain. The delivery man smirks at the barrier between you before turning and strolling back the way he came. You shudder and turn to put the box down. You really thought for a moment he might try to follow you inside.

You shake out your nerves. It’s just been a really weird day. Well, few days.

You pull out your phone and text Steve to let him know he got a package. You put your cell on the counter as you enter the kitchen. You planned on ordering food to celebrate your coming day off but it’s too much trouble dealing with another stranger.

You go through the fridge and cupboards and settle on the bag of hand rolled tortellini with the jar of alfredo. You’re no expert chef but you can follow instructions. It’s a quick enough dinner. You eat it at the table against the wall, a video playing on your phone. 

A notification pops up at the top of the screen, Steve saying thanks. You don’t bother replying but another flips up in quick succession. ‘How is everything?’

You finish your pasta before you reply. You rinse your dishes and leave them in the rack. You take the phone upstairs, typing as you climb.

‘Doing fine. Everything’s well. Thanks for checking in.’

Easy and to the point. You don’t want to have some stunted text chat with your landlord, you don’t even want to talk to your friends, you’ve been dying all week to try the bathtub.

You turn on the faucet and the water spills out, steam quickly rising as you adjust the temperature. You go to the counter and search your pouch for your body scrub. You pause as you find it empty. Weird.

You look around. Your toothbrush is in the cup and your toothpaste and mouthwash on the small shelf that holds it. Where is everything else? You check the drawer, your face creams and cleanser are all there. Even your deodorant and body lotion. 

You peek at the tub and see your jar of scrub already sitting on the sharp edge brim. You don’t remember putting all that away. Why would you? You’re not going to be here forever. You don’t know, you were so tired that morning, you can’t even remember brewing your coffee.

You blow out the tension. Stop worrying. It’s fine. It’s little things that you’re overthinking. As usual. 

You undress and leave your clothes on the counter. You approach the tub and lower yourself down with a sigh. Oh yeah, this is living. The tub is nice and big, you don’t feel crammed in like your own place. You better enjoy it while it lasts.

🖤

The bedroom becomes a haven in the large house. You go downstairs in search of snacks, planning to veg out a bit before you inevitably fall asleep watching Youtube commentary videos. You find some trail mix with M&Ms mixed in it but are disappointed to discover a dearth of carbonated beverages in the fridge. You opt for the tropical twist juice in the sleek glass bottle.

You retreat with your meagre haul and create a nest in the bed. You grab your phone and flip past the several notifications waiting on the home screen. You scroll through Youtube until you land on something suitably dramatic. You pull down the taskbar and flick away several notifs.

Steve’s message is the last. It kinda creeps you out but the time stamp assures you it’s merely a coincidence. ‘I bought some snacks. Hope you found them. Wasn’t sure what you liked.’

You resist clicking on the bubble and swipe it away with the rest. You don’t want to leave him on read and you don’t think he’d appreciate your response. Granola and coconut water aren’t much of a snack.

You shimmy down under the covers and prop up your phone on the bedside table. You lean into the pillow and lazily munch, Your mind wanders away from the petty online drama. Work, your apartment, several strange encounters… hopefully life calms down soon. You mind your business, you don’t need the trouble. You prefer to be a witness, not an active participant.

You drain the last of the juice as the mix of almonds, peanuts, and cranberries leaves your mouth dry. You get up to brush your teeth as you listen through the open door to the edited clips from TikTok. As you come back to bed, you feel the day catch up to you.

You yawn and shut off the light. Ugh, you’re so suddenly tired. It’s not unusual to be wiped after clopening but damn, you’ve never felt this heavy. You pull the blanket up to your chin and your phone screen blurs in your eyes. You let the low drone ease you down to sleep.

It’s as if no time passes at all. No dreams, no awareness, just a thick void that makes your head hurt. You wake with a start.

Your phone gleams from beside you but Youtube is no longer open. The light is on, blaring in your vision as you sit up. Jeez, you must be totally zonked. You probably got up to go pee and don’t even remember.

You reach for your phone and check the time. It’s just after midnight. An hour or two since you passed out. The blanket falls away from your shoulders and you look down at the cold wash across your chest. The straps of your tank top droop down your arms as the fabric is wrinkled below your tits as they hang out. 

You fix your top, it’s not unusual. You’ve woken up more times than you count with your shirt all twisted. It’s why you never had roommates. You shove the blanket further down, your shorts are askew as well, caught in the crease of thigh and pelvis. You fish around to tug the loose opening free and find it damp. Ugh, you’re sweating from your little cocoon of body warmth.

You push yourself towards the edge and pause. You feel oddly sensitive, almost raw. You rise and stretch, reaching down to check yourself. You’re wet. Like really wet. You must’ve had some wild dreams but you can’t remember any of them. 

You take your cell to the bathroom with you and relieve yourself. You pull up your cycle tracking app. Ah, first day of ovulation. Horny time.

You come back to the bedroom and burrow back under the blankets. As you wiggle down, you feel something roll against you. You put your phone beside your pillow and snake your hand around to grab the tiny cylinder. You raise the small bullet vibrator and frown. Wasn’t that in your beauty bag?

You place it on the night table and take your phone. Well, you seem to be pretty absent-minded lately. First your toiletries, now this. You’ll have to do a sweep of the house tomorrow and make sure you have everything together. You won’t be there much longer.

Still, you’re unsettled by the momentary lapse in consciousness, but your lingering grogginess keeps you from panicking. You’ll just put on another video. It should distract you enough to calm you down.

[cafe-mysa]

the games in the warden's closet || wriothesley oneshot

title: the games in the warden's closet day 4: mulled wine // playing board games // "i have no regrets." // "cheer up dude. it's christmas." fandom: genshin impact character: wriothesley wc: 472 c/w: slightly suggestive towards the end but nothing actually happens!!! oneshot (credit to @12daysofchristmas for the prompt) !!content under the cut!!

"welcome," wriothesley smirked, "to my humble abode down here in hell."

"i'm honoured," you stated wryly, "thank you, oh grand duke."

"no problem, my dear~"

"i can't believe you asked me to come to prison for christmas, what an awful christmas present."

the man laughed, following closely behind you up the stairs with a sly grin, shrugging off his fur coat as he sat down in his chair, sighing tiredly.

"i can't believe i have to stay down here when it's christmas," he muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose, "it's so boring down here."

"what, you don't have anything to do down here?"

"it's so lonely," he lamented, "that's why i brought you down here with me, [name], so we could do things together... but if you don't..." he gazed at you under his bangs, smirking victoriously as you relented.

"can't you go back up to the surface?"

"what, and leave all of them by themselves for christmas?" he scoffed, "have you no manners?"

"just a suggestion," you backed off, wandering aimlessly towards the closet in the corner of the hall, his icy eyes following your move as he placed his gauntlet down with a groan.

"there's nothing in there, you know." a beat. "and you need keys to open that."

"well do you have the keys, oh grand duke?"

he smirked, standing and sliding the chair back.

"and if i said i did?"

"then i'd ask you, kindly, grand duke, if you could open the closet so we could if it is, as you say," you hummed, turning around and letting him move past you, "truly empty."

he feigned surprise as he yanked the door open unceremoniously, grinning wolfishly.

"well, would you look at that, it's a christmas miracle."

"jerk," you huffed, taking out the wooden box, "you planted this here earlier."

"your proof?" he huffed, gazing down at you with a raised brow.

"because nobody else is allowed up here, minus the very fortunate - or unfortunate, i should say - criminals, and sigewinne," you listed, "and i'm not quite sure how any of them would be brave enough to manage to sneak a board game in here, find a locked closet, steal your keys, proceed to lock it again and give your keys back."

"you gonna arrest me?" he muttered lowly, fingers twitching around his metal handcuffs.

"just shut up and play," you scoffed, the corners of your lips twitching upwards slightly as you strode past him and placed the board on the table, "if i win, i take you up to the surface with me?"

"i'll do you one better," the duke smirked, sitting in his chair cockily, "if i win, you'll let me do whatever i want with you. after all, you're my christmas present, and there's quite a few things i have planned this year."

[w0w0zella]

um hello!!! im gonna be making a. bugbo murderstuck au Masterpost of sorts! I guess! ill format it like a q&a but im making up some of these questions myself. So lets get into it :3

this is a really long post! b careful :3

"what is murderstuck?" murderstuck is a Bugbo AU that made/am making (complicated wip status lol)! its a story that takes place a month and a bit after the events of familiar foe. Very long story short, gerbo ends up getting killed (on accident), joe then kills bugbo (On purpose) and joe seeks out thomas flyswatter for help. i have a post here that goes more into the story if you'd like to see it! vvv https://www.tumblr.com/w0w0zella/728157783124574208/ill-post-these-together-awawy-from-the-rest-of-the?source=share 

currently it is a well defined plot line that i and a couple other people have made art for,, and a work in progress fanfiction!

"why is it called "murderstuck"?"

murderstuck is actually (Believe it or not lol) a Homestuck thing! murderstuck is a specific part in act 5 act 2 of homestuck where one character kills someone and then someone else kills THEM, so i was like  Fuck yeah that makes total sense for this au. In all honesty, i just called it that cuz i needed a name to jump back to in discord for easy finding and it. Stuck i guess GIGGLES lol.

i am currently.  Semi looking for new name suggestions! so if anyone has any ideas !!!   Tell me !! Please !! I have No idea!! ((by the way, because murderstuck is already technically a thing, you need to tag murderstuck posts with #bugbo murderstuck or #bugbo murderstuck au or else it will be drowned out by all the homestuck art :3

(question by geluga on discord) "where did joe get his cleaver ? is it the same way he just happened to have an axe in episode 2 or is it from something else?"

yeah no i didnt really think out him having a meat cleaver lol. lets say thaat. umm. He got it becuase he was preparing bugbo a Yummy Meal (Steak is his Favourite or some  shit idk) !!!

i do NOT rmember why i gave him a meat cleaver aswell. If you want a Good answer, the reason i gave him a meat cleaver and not his Trusty Axe is because his axe would have been far too dull and bulky to slit bugbos throat. if you want the TRUE answer Its because i forgot he had an axe at all and thought the meat cleaver would look cool

(question by onyx on discord) "did gj feel bad after The thing or did he feel like totally justified"

AMAZING QUESTION !!!! Gradient Joe feels EXTREME remorse. of course when he looks back on it he knows why he did it, but if we're being completely honest; bugbo was immobilized. he did not need to kill bugbo. if he had killed him while bugbo was choking him, that would be a different story. but he killed him while he was backed up into a tree, immobilized and begging for his life.

he feels extremely bad ! Very extremely bad!

(question from ANON in my ASK BOX) "DUDE I LOVE YOUR AU SM RAUGHHHHH also question uhh where is hoppo in the au? we havent really heard about her"

So. During the events of this au. she is. away. like she usually is. Dont really know where! Shopping at grocery market. back at war. lost at sea. you decide. (More info on hoppo in the next question

(question by kets on discord) "uuhhmmmm what is the absolute WORST ending this au could have realistically?????????? like if it didn't end whene thomas was ocmforting joe idk :3333333"

OKAY i coudl see this one of a couple ways. First way is, bugbo wins. bugbo succeeds in choking joe to death, And now he is alone (til hoppo gets back) i said this one first cuz its probably not the worst possible thing, but i think it would be pretty terrible!

second worst would be if Joe waited for hoppo to come back instead of going to thomas for help. In my humble opinion, i think that hoppo is very stubborn and VERY loyal. so. (to me at least) it stands to reason that if hoppo came back, she would side with bugbo VERY hard. she would probably fucking hate joes guts, and that would be the worst  thing for him after everything he already went through. Maybe they would Fight too idk…

Very first worst would be if joe just straight up killed himself after killing bugbo. I could see this as a thing he contemplated, but if he actually went through with it?  Oh my god Fucking imagine. all of there corpses there for hoppo to find when she comes back. Thomas rotting away in his lair without anyone to talk to (and without knowledge of bugbos death) for years? Devastating.

other notable endings include Joe OR bugbo Killing themselves directly after gerbos death, hoppo ending up killing joe out of anger when she comes back, Or (In a silly alternate universe that We made on Disc Ord…) bugbo comes BACK to life and DRAGS himself to go kill joe HIMSELF!!!!!!

(question by DEMO on DISCORD) "is gradient joe book smart or money smart" i am going to kill myself and its your fault i think. never speak to me again (Joke)

NOTABLE INFORMATION:

as stated before, you need to tag murderstuck posts with #bugbo murderstuck or #bugbo murderstuck au or else it will be drowned out by Homestuck stuff !! i want to see all of your art and things!! Thank you!!

you are ONE HUNDRED PERCENT WELCOMED AND ENCOURAGED to make stuff surrounding this au! Please Please Show It To Me!!!

if you are drawing During Fight or. During Murdering bugbo or joe, here are some things to note! - bugbo attempts to choke joe to death during a part in the fight, and he almost succeds! This causes Permanent scarring on gradient joes neck, and scratch marks all over bugbos arms from joe clawing at them!!!

- joe ends the fight with his shirt partially open and his tie missing!

- joe breaks bugbos right leg! there is a noticable gash on his inner right knee!

- joe kills bugbo by slitting his throat with a meat cleaver!- after joe is done, he drags bugbos body over to where gerbo died! (he was crushed by the fallen Stone Structure!)

thank you all so much for the love and support with this au It means so much to me. thank you from the botom of my hart.  IF YOU HAVE ANY COOL IDEAS, MORE QUESTIONS, OR ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANNA SHOW/TELL ME, MY MESSAGES AND ASK BOX ARE ALWAYS OPEN!!!!!!

[hum-suffer]

Of course, you'll hurt me 1 (Rajneeti)

"You know, I didn't ask for you to come pick me up," Samar says, with a smirk that tells her how proud he is of the fact that she indeed came to pick him up at the airport in the afternoon, in this scorching heat.

She wouldn't have come, if not for Prithvi telling her. She'd have preferred not to see his face for more than 10 minutes in all of his stay and then book a ticket in his name and send a car to escort him back.

Amrita gives him a side eye over her shoulder. "Don't be ungrateful. It's unbecoming." She says, in a particularly dismissive and airy tone that she knows he'll despise.

"Are you trying to imitate Mamaji? It's not working very well, you don't have the accent for it." He says snidely, eyes narrowing as both of them slide in the car— him at the front with Ram Kaka and Amrita at the back.

"Please," she says,"if anything, you now don't have the accent for it. Mr. Rare and Sophisticated."

He ignores her and turns to Ram Kaka, giving him a new watch as a gift. Amrita can't help but smile at his thoughtfulness but all her pleasant thoughts are curved off the moment there's a loud horn behind them. And it continues. Over and over again.

"Must be Indu beti," Ram Kaka says with an exasperated sort of smile.

Indu surpasses them by her car and parks on the road haphazardly. Samar doesn't spare Amrita a glance before going over to greet her. Amrita kisses her teeth but doesn't say anything. He's become rude.

(It's obvious that he kept in contact with her. When he blocked any away of contact with Amrit, he's kept in contact with everyone else. The taste of vicious betrayal in her mouth is sour and cold.)

She deliberately makes sure that her tone is soft when she talks to Ram Kaka. "Kaka, I suggest you go directly to the hospital. Indu is here, she'll take him home. Don't waste your efforts."

"But beta, it's no trouble. Plus, you're here too. Are you going home with them?"

Amrita shakes her head and starts to get out of the car. "I have my ways, Kaka." She's out before he can say anything further.

Indu smiles at her happily. "Amrita! You should have told me that you were going to pick up Samar, too! You could have come with me."

Amrita raises her eyebrows,"And risk my life? Nope. Anyways, now that your union is over, I'll take my humble leave."

"Wait, what?" Samar frowns at her. "You're not coming home with me?"

Amrita bites her tongue before she can say anything bitter but shakes her head. "I have to meet Prithvi bhaiya. I am his personal assistant, not yours. You can go home with Indu."

Indu presses a hand on her heart and grins dramatically,"Did you just give me a job?"

"Isn't him your job already?" Amrita snorts and Indu giggles. Samar is still staring at her but Amrita doesn't deign to look at him again.

"Off you go," she urges them all when they don't move, starting to dial Harsh—Prithvi's bodyguard. He picks up on the first ring. "You were in Indiranagar, weren't you?" She says without bothering with a greeting. "Come pick me up, please. Near Ajay complex."

"I'll be there in five," he says,"Weren't you gone to pick up Samar? Oh, I get it. Do you need anything? Chocolate? Water? Teddies? Box of tissues?"

"I need you dead." She deadpans, turning her back as Indu finally coaxes Samar to leave with her.

There's a brush of fingers against her spine and she flinches, whipping her head back. Samar is pulling out his luggage from the storage.

Fucker.

He turns towards her with almost concerned eyes.

"Bye." She says to both Harsh and Samar.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Harsh picks up Amrita and the first thing Prithvi does is interrogate Amrita.

"How is he? It's been years since I saw him. Idiot didn't even visit in Diwali." Prithvi is the older one of them and yet is more animated. He sounds like a child whining about the absence of his father and yet Amrita finds his love endearing.

She rolls her eyes. "Are we talking about your brother or Voldemort? Just say his name, bhaiya."

Prithvi swats the back of her head in a joking manner. "Watch it. Your paycheck depends on me."

"Actually, it depends on me. Do you even know your own back account?"

He doesn't have any answer to that and Amrita hums in satisfaction.

"Take me home," he tells Harsh, who's driving,"I'll meet him and then go to the headquarters."

"You should also start giving me the salary of a chauffeur if you're gonna treat me like your personal driver," Harsh says, giving her a stink eye.

"Your salary isn't in my hand."

"You just said—"

"Focus on the road, my friend. You have a wife and kids."

"What's that got to do with anything?!"

Amrita enjoys the baffled silence and closes her eyes.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Amrita feels Samar's eyes on her the moment she walks inside the house, following Prithvi.

Even as Prithvi hugs Samar, he keeps his eyes trained on Amrita and there's nothing she can do about his audacity, so she moves towards his mother and greets her quietly.

"Now that you two are here, come and eat something, too." She says, patting Amrita's cheek gently.

Prithvi tells her of their plan to go to the office headquarters and unintentionally, Amrita yawns.

Prithvi looks at her mockingly. "Are you slacking off by trying to sleep during work hours?"

Amrita gives him a deadpan look. "I'm sorry, who told me to organise the party for his uncle's birthday? And who organised your schedule for the next whole week? And who bought the gift for the said uncle?"

Aunty gives her a one arm hug. "You're more my child than either of these two useless fools."

Impulsively, Amrita sticks out her tongue at the two of them. Prithvi sneers back at her but Samar doesn't say a word and his eyes dart all over her face, something so intense in his look that it has her straightening up.

She clears her throat. "Let's go before your bootlickers get irritated."

"They're my supporters, not bootlickers." Prithvi tells her, eyes narrowed. "Aren't you too feisty today?"

"Yes, I don't get paid for my overtime hours."

After saying their goodbyes, Prithvi stalks out of the house while Amrita waits on aunty, who insists on filling up some fresh juice for her son. Coddled bastards, the two of her sons.

"Amrita."

She doesn't turn towards him. She knows he's almost pressed against her and turning will press her into him completely.

"Yes?"

"You wouldn't deign to look at me, at least take my name." He sounds like he's trying to make his words sound more light than he means them to be.

Amrita shakes her head. "Like you did, in these five years?"

"Amrita—"

She's saved by her phone ringing. "Excuse me, please," she mutters distractedly and picks up the call, not even checking who it is as she leaves the room.

There's a soft brush of fingers near her elbow as she moves past him without looking at him.

Bitch.

____________________________________________________

@akshinayak hehehehe you enabled me soooo

[gardening-guy]

since i'll eventually take down my holiday tree and pack it away, i wanted to share some of the sentimental and nice ornaments my household of friends and i have collected over time!

oli's sentimental holiday ornaments (part one) 🎄💖🌟

meet chou chou the rainbow sheep and mumé the lil owl! these are two fair-trade, handmade wool felted ornaments bought by my best friend! she was obsessed with chou chou at first sight and consistently wanted to buy out the store's entire stock of them lmaooo. but... they sold out like immediately, so she developed a soft spot for mumé in place lol.

this is a couple fake chandelier crystals from the very shitty rental apartment of two of my close friends! their very shitty apartment came with this huge gaudy chandelier in the living space, and they let me take a few crystals out of spite for the housing complex. now, they make lovely holiday ornaments on my tree.

this is a silly lil felted monster that an old friend from scouts made for me! i haven't come up with a name yet, so i'm open to suggestions if you send them to my ask box! i was considering the humble name "mustard" so far lmaooo!

another fair-trade, handmade wool felted ornament of some cute lil cottagecore mushrooms! this one i bought, from the same store my best friend bought chou chou and mumé from! isn't it cute?

here's my grad cap tassel, from graduating with my bachelor's of science in anthropology last month (dec 2024)! thought it'd be nice to have a lil holiday reminder for future years of my accomplishment! :)

presenting the mysterious lil hair barrette clip found in our house when we first started renting... it's probably from the previous tenants, but it's nice to let it have a cozy home on our holiday tree instead of on the dusty floor of a closet where we found it.

a ceramic ornament my parents bought me for christmas. i still celebrate christmas with my family, but i think i personally prefer just celebrating "the holidays" in general. i do think the ornament is nice, but i'm on rocky terms with my parents rn, soooo it's a bit awkward. still nice though.

a lil 3D-printed rat from one of my anthropology professors! he's specifically an archeology and museum anthropology specialist, and he runs a lab on campus where we work with museums to scan, 3D-print, paint, and replicate artifacts from their collections so they have a replication that they can put on display for exhibits that potentially will get damaged. i had an internship there a while ago, and omg all the free 3D prints i received have been getting made into holiday ornaments!

a lil random keychain we found on the street by my current job (a small non-profit, fair-trade shop)! we alternate between calling him dumbledore and gandalf! now he has a nice home off the streets!

find part two here!

[emergence-warriors]

Characters: Leaders

All references can be found under #character posts and #leader

These are drafts. I appreciate all advice and idea suggestions!! The ask box is open.

Keep reading for a bonus sixth leader!

Foxstar

He/him

Foxstar is ThunderClan's current leader, formerly named Foxstorm. He is confrontational and often comes across as intense without trying to be. He's leaning on traditional and strict on borders.

His intensity comes from wanting to protect his Clanmates. He can be, eh, overbearing.

I really adore the dynamic he has with SkyClan's leader. Silverstar humbles him and shuts him up just by being nice. Foxstar's reaction to Silverstar's kindness after assuming a challenge is embarrassment.

-

Silverstar

He/him

Silverstar is a lot of things SkyClan wants in a cat. He's kind, compassionate, moral, and VERY polite-- and he has the heart to back it up.

One thing I want to make clear with SkyClan is how different they are from the other four Clans. They were the first to open up most to outsiders and they understand that violence isn't always the right route to take.

Their kindness comes with open borders. Instead of border patrols, they have scout patrols, which are sent out routinely during the day to ensure no real threat has arrived.

So, this is scene I came up with in my head is what inspired Silverstar and Foxstar:

"Some scouts found one of your apprentices on our side of your border." Silverstar speaks directly to Foxstar.

"Are you accusing my cats of trespassing?" Foxstar's tone is as harsh as his glare.

"Of course not, friend." Silverstar offers Foxstar a friendly blink. "We're worried about him, is all. The scouts said he was unwell."

"Ah, uhm..." Foxstar feels his fur heat up. Foxstar hangs his head, staring at his paws, looking like a scolded kit. Silverstar figures he has more to say and waits until Foxstar does, in fact, speak up again, "He was, unfortunately. Uh... he didn't make it."

"Oh..." Silverstar lowers his gaze. "On behalf of SkyClan, we are all sorry for your loss."

Foxstar mumbles something about explanations and announcements, then urges Silverstar to continue his. Silverstar gives one last slow blink, then returns to his speech.

-

Wrenstar

She/they

ShadowClan's current leader, Wrenstar is the smallest around the lake. I really don't have a strong personality for them, but I do have a story I want to tell. I want to show off her struggles as the successor of a tyrant-- ShadowClan's previous leader, Pheasantstar.

Wrenstar is the newest leader around the lake, she took power after Pheasantstar was killed and swore to make ShadowClan safer.

There was a bloody battle, Wrenwing had her pinned, and Pheasantstar reached out to snap at Wrenwing's throat-- instead, Wrenwing's claws came down on hers instead.

That haunts Wrenstar forever-- that and the pressure of having ShadowClan recover-- their concerns, their fears, their hopes, all on her back-- it's breaking her. She's pretending to be headstrong, as much as it kills her. She wants to be the leader ShadowClan needs so bad.

Sometimes, she doesn't know if she's taking the right steps. Sometimes, she's kept up at by nightmares of killing Pheasantstar, it makes her think so low of herself.

Bramblingwing is there for her, their conversation after the chaos looked something like this:

Wrenstar: "I killed her. What're my cats going to think of me now? I- I'm just like her, Bramblingwing. Oh StarClan, I'm just like her."

Bramblingwing: "She was going to kill you first, dear. You were defending yourself, it's not your fault. You didn't know she had no lives, none of us did."

Wrenstar: "..."

Wrenstar: "I killed her. I'm just like her."

Bramblingwing: "Did you hear me?"

-

Saltstar

She/her

Saltstar has the most potential as a blank slate. Currently, I'm thinking headstrong and helpful, someone jovial? Definitely looking for ideas.

-

Ravenstar

He/him

Ravenstar is the oldest cat around the lake and grandfather to WindClan's protagonist, Dogwoodkit/paw.

He's your stereotypical good guy warrior cat-- flexible, good-natured, strong-willed... but he's changing with age.

I want there to be a power struggle in WindClan; A change, really.

Since I first drafted the story in 2022, I had a strong idea of Mangokit, Dogwoodkit's best friend, growing up to be a part of a coup that tries to kill Ravenstar.

Maybe it's righteousness-- Ravenstar makes a choice that results in deaths and this coup gets together to take him out of power.

Maybe it's truly malicious-- the leader(s) of this coup convinces their circle of friends to get together to put Dirtnose up as leader soon.

Maybe it's something else, I'm still deciding!!

-

Pheasantstar

She/her

SURPRISE SIXTH LEADER!!!

Pheasantstar led ShadowClan before Wrenstar. Her reign was brutal and strict. She's a villain.

She acted as the head of a party of extreme traditionalists, being one of the worst in it. Pheasantstar believed heavily in purebloodedness and looked for any excuse to chase out Clanmates who were of outsider origin. This devastated ShadowClan's population.

I'm thinking her reign was a year long, with the crescendo being a mass exile.

She can kill, she will kill, but she wants to keep it private. AHhahahahaa, nothing to see here ThunderClan. Mind your own business.

She rose into power with style, I think. Let her be fashionable and scary while committing all crimes ever please. Cunning and smart, go girl!!!

Her dreams were cut short when Wrenwing turned on her.

[honeyflower-bellybower]

Poet Remus AU, part 4

The next day, Sirius manages to get his hands on a copy of the dialogues. He walks inside a library personally, for what he thought was the first time, and tries to be as nonchalant as possible. He'd gone for anonymous aristocrat, but of course is recognized at once. Damned inbreeding, the Blacks all look the same.

Fortunately, he has thought of a strategy. After the bookseller greeted him with a mildly surprised tone and, all too pleased, asked if he could be of any help, Sirius made a scene of reciprocating, and then leaned on the counter confidentially.

"Really, I am but a humble vassal today. You see, I've had the pleasure to meet one of the rarest gems these last few days, and she is rather... capricious. The loveliest all are, aren't they?" he elbows the man playfully and he gets a hesitant smile in return. "Well, she demanded I bring her a gift next time we meet or I don't show at all." The seller laughed. Sirius smiled brightly. "I happen to know she enjoys reading like little else, and I shall like to amaze her. Outdo myself. I thought I'd buy her ten books, not one, and the most peculiar I could find, since I'm sure she already owns a more than dignified library. Can you help me with this request, my friend? Of course, I'm hoping this can stay between us, as to preserve the modesty of the lady in question."

The bookseller was nothing short of overjoyed at the idea of being Sirius' confidant on this, and agreed happily. Sirius gave him a few titles he'd found in the 'exotic' section of his father's library, then let the man suggest the rest. Then, after spending the better part of an hour piling up nine books Sirius did not care for one bit, he let the name slip nonchalantly.

"Almost there! And what a good job we've done. Only thanks to you, my good man. Let me say, I truly am astounded. I've never seen a shopkeeper so passionate or knowledgeable about his trade, or a shop this well stocked." The seller tried to be modest, but his chest was blown full. "Now, only one left to go. Whatever could that be... Ah! There's a book I've heard of, recently. I know there's not a lot of copies, that'll be perfect. Those essays, what was the name… on sadness and love? No, that wasn’t it. The author is one Lupin, I believe…"

The librarian raised an eyebrow. "On damnation and lovers? By Remus Lupin?"

"Ah, yes! That's the one! Perfect."

"Are you quite certain, sir? It’s rather… well, it’s not exactly a ladies read. Quite political, and rather heavy…"

"Nonsense. It's the perfect addition to this collection. She likes anything unusual. Trust me, she’d rather own something to boast her individuality rather than something she'd actually enjoy reading. Between me and you, I don’t think she’ll open half of these books. But I know she’ll love the gift."

At that, the man seemed placated. "Ah, I see..." he said, then turned to the bookshelf behind him and moved a couple carton boxes to reveal a new portion of it, from which he retrieved a thin blue volume. He placed it on top of the others.

"My Lord, may I ask," he said then, lowering his voice though they were alone, "which lovely dame is so fortunate as to be the recipient of this gift? It would stay between us, of course."

"Ah, that, my good friend, is a detail I cannot share even with you," Sirius said, a smile playing at his lips. "But I assure you, if anything good comes of this endeavor, you'll be the first to know."

When Sirius walked out the shop, it was with a spring in his step. It hadn’t been a hard mission, merely a time consuming one, and it had probably been overmeasure, but you’re never too cautious with Duke Orion Black. For that same reason, he didn’t immediately head home. He didn’t feel safe, returning with his bulging satchel of nine random books plus one. He felt exposed. So, instead, he stopped a carriage.

"Potter Manor," he directed.

Read part 3 here

Really short part today, but a fun one for me. James enters soon!

[handeaux]

For More That Twenty Years, Billy Guthrie Fought The Law, But The Law Won

Billy Guthrie built a career flouting the legal authorities. He spent almost as much time in Cincinnati’s courtrooms as he did in his notorious saloons. He died, apparently unrepentant, having created a Cincinnati legend that stretched from the Gay Nineties into Prohibition.

If you had asked William W. Guthrie, he would have claimed to be a put-upon proprietor of some humble cultural establishments. If you asked Cincinnati’s progressive reformers, Guthrie was the devil incarnate, spewing vice and degradation from the noxious hellholes he referred to as “concert halls.”

For the first decade of the Twentieth Century, Guthrie operated a disreputable resort named The Fashion on Opera Place, just off Vine Street below Sixth Street. Allegedly, the building had once housed a synagogue. The Cincinnati Post [16 March 1910] captured the atmosphere and allure of The Fashion:

“The patrons of The Fashion are neither lovers of good music nor dancing, and they do not go there for either. Between the acts at The Fashion the women performers can be found drinking with the men at the tables in the loges. Their value to the house is purely in the drinks that men buy for them. They prefer bottle beer and mixed drinks. They sit at the tables in their short stage skirts and can be seen from the outside.”

While the crusading Cincinnati Post sputtered in indignation, Guthrie operated without any interference from the authorities so long as the city was controlled by George ��Boss” Cox and his minions. Guthrie owned a city “concert hall” license and waved it in the face of anyone who suggested that his dive was anything but that.

In 1910, a reform-minded Republican, Henry Hunt, was elected county prosecutor despite Boss Cox’s obstruction. He launched a campaign against gambling and vice and was so successful that he was later elected mayor and even prompted Boss Cox to issue a public statement that he was retiring from politics.

While Hunt may have rattled The Boss, Billy Guthrie shrugged off Hunt’s efforts to shutter The Fashion. Hunt saw to it that Guthrie’s concert hall license was not renewed, but the saloonist quickly adapted. According to the Cincinnati Post [14 August 1911]:

“Guthrie’s place was formerly licensed as a concert hall. The license was taken away from him and now he is running the same kind of hall without a license. Formerly, Guthrie employed singers, who, when they did not sing, ‘sat in’ and promoted the sale of drinks. When his license was revoked Guthrie abolished the singers and installed an orchestra. Presto! It ceased to be a concert hall, but became merely a saloon with a music box.”

This “saloon with a music box” continued to employ women of negotiable affection who greeted their admirers and encouraged them to buy abundant drinks. While they no longer sang on The Fashion’s stage, it was reported that they hummed along with the popular tunes performed by the “orchestra,” which was usually a piano accompanying a violin.

While Guthrie jousted with the Cincinnati reformers, he took out a sort of insurance policy by opening another saloon outside the city limits, almost directly across from the entrance to Chester Park. Chester Park itself usually attracted a mainstream clientele with a variety of rides, a huge lake for swimming and boating and theaters staging opera and musical comedy. On occasion, Chester Park brought in a very different sort of customer when it hosted prize fights that were illegal in Cincinnati. The whole area around Winton Road and Spring Grove Avenue had not yet been annexed to the city and was colonized by saloons eager to escape Cincinnati’s more restrictive regulations. The Post christened that neighborhood “The Wicked Strip” and Billy Guthrie fit right in.

In 1910, motion pictures were still a very new medium, inspiring some legislative reactions we find amusing today. For example, as noted, prize fighting was prohibited within the Cincinnati city limits. Apparently, the city administration saw no difference between real pugilists pounding each other in the ring and cinematic boxers pounding each other on the silver screen. So, indeed, Cincinnati prohibited motion pictures showing prize fights.

Billy Guthrie was happy to provide a venue for a film capturing the highlights of what was then billed as “The Fight of the Century” between the first African American heavyweight champion Jack Johnson and the former heavyweight champion James J. Jeffries. The Post [26 August 1910] went apoplectic:

“The whole country rose in opposition to the Jeffries-Johnson fight pictures. Mayor Schwab prohibited them. The pictures were driven out of Covington. Banished everywhere in the neighborhood, they found a wide-armed welcome in the Wicked Strip that knows no law and doesn’t care. The pictures were placed on exhibition in Guthrie’s Avenue Theater – Guthrie being the man whose disreputable Fashion Concert Hall on Opera-pl. has been driven off the street by the force of public sentiment.”

Billy Guthrie found that the wages of sin provided quite a comfortable income. It’s a toss-up whether his name appears more often in the criminal court logs or the real estate columns of the newspapers. Back then, with banks regularly going insolvent with no deposit insurance, land was where people parked their cash. Guthrie bought or sold a parcel or two almost every week.

Curiously, it seems that Guthrie, an otherwise savvy businessman, was a poor judge of character. On at least two occasions, it was reported that he posted bail for a defendant (presumably one of his customers) who stiffed him by failing to appear in court. In each case, Guthrie forfeited more than a thousand dollars.

What the local constabulary could not do, national legislation achieved. The dawn of Prohibition marked the end of Billy Guthrie’s lucrative saloons. He made a half-hearted attempt to keep a dive bar going in the West End but was busted by federal agents and settled into retirement. Guthrie turned the Avenue Theater over to his son, who operated it as a more-or-less law-abiding café. The location, at the corner of Mitchell and Spring Grove, is now occupied by a car wash.

Billie Guthrie died, aged 66, in 1929 from a heart condition and is buried just down the road from the “Wicked Strip” in Spring Grove Cemetery.

[221b-bitch-st]

welcome everyone to my humble abode ✨ call me august, any pronouns cus meh, 18+

im a college student and its not going great so i cope through fandom and memes. yes i still post about supernatural, no i probably wont ever stop, no its not the only thing i post about (im on a star trek bend recently)

my ask box is open, send me whatever makes you smile :)

tag list (mainly for my benefit cus i forget them):

august whispers - my text posts

august comments - when i rb and add text

august polls - polls

august rants - ANGY

august writes - my fics

august's art - my art, if i ever have the time to do art ever again

argue for later - REFERENCES

quote things from nathalie - funny shit my friend says

yass queen yaps - funny shit my friend says

could be an incorrect quote if you try - funny things my friends and i say

boyfriend things - stuff my bf says/does

carmy.jpeg - my bfs cat

[cat name].jpeg - posting abt my cats

save for later spn - spn post to look at later

save for later merlin - merlin stuff for later

sexual content - self-explanatory

suggestive Art - also self-explanatory

read when in need - stuff to go look at later

work adventures - stupid shit that happens at work

my keyboard cover painting project - updates and images of the keys ive painted

[3terna15unshin3]

Then Because She Goes

I wake up, love you, so love you, love you

★ Chapter 5 of 15, 4926 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: alcohol consumption

<< 4

25 December, 2018

The holidays were celebrated peacefully and with tons of food, in the Manansala family. Este’s mum and dad spent the day cooking all of her favourite Filipino food for an early Christmas dinner, then enjoyed a classic roast dinner the next afternoon on Boxing Day. 

Well-fed and happy to be back home to hang out with their family dog Dano (a mellow golden retriever, named after Este’s obsession with the film Little Miss Sunshine), she had a relaxing holiday. And, as much as the regressive feeling of staying in her childhood house sort of stressed her out, Este took advantage of her last couple of days off of work by not making many plans. 

That was until she got a message from Matty. He always hopped around for Christmas, since his own friends and family were messily dispersed between London and the north countryside. He and the rest of the band were allowed a holiday break from rehearsals, so he spent late December basking in the calm before the storm. Matty knew he’d eventually be in Manchester with some free time. So, he decided to send Este a text. 

Their conversation had graduated to iMessage after Matty suggested the idea that night in Kingston. As nice as their budding friendship had been, he found himself thinking of Este with affection. How she could make him laugh both on purpose and by accident, the way her hair sat lazily on the edges of her face, her love for books and her skill for allowing other people to experience what she feels when reading them. 

So, he considered maybe asking her on a date. But the idea of that scared Matty—the formality of asking, the possibility of rejection. When trying to assume if she felt the same way, he was coupled with uncertainty, but he reached out anyway.

Este

Tue, 25 Dec at 13:02 PM

Merry Christmas x

Free to grab coffee on the 28th? 6 ish?

I’ll be in town that evening, if u are up for it

Only a couple of messages were sent between them since the album release party. Este, of course, showered him in flattery after first listening to it, whole-heartedly impressed by his work. Since Matty’s drunk words were sober thoughts that night, he really did care about Este’s opinion of him. He bubbled with joy when reading her messages. If she was telling the truth, that is. But Matty didn’t take her as a liar.

It had been busy for both of them; Matty was doing press for the month following A Brief Inquiry’s release and rehearsing for tour, while Este, Sam, and Oliver were dealing with the pre-holiday retail craziness. With that in mind, Matty was surprised to get a fairly quick response from her.

Este

Tue, 25 Dec at 14:10 PM

28th is my first day back to work :( off at 8 as usual

But we can do something afterwards if that's not too late?

And Merry Christmas to you too x hope you’re enjoying a break from the craziness

I am thank you !

I could just come by and hang out while u work bc I love it there Lol

Unless it’ll be busy I can just meet you there after close

That would be lovely! It’s always super slow the week after Christmas anyway

Everyone’s too busy raiding the big shops for the sales

ok cool I’ll probably show around 6:30

I need to chat to ur face about the album too :P

You’ve said enough about the album Este bloody hell

I don’t think I can take another compliment

Ego been fed enough lately?

Yeah actually thanks

Trying to learn how to be humble

Thank god x

✴ 28 December, 2018

A bay of colourful spines stared at Este as she stood in the Teen Fiction section trying to help a middle-aged mum find a book for her daughter. Every fragment of her teenage memories that popped into her mind felt outdated or not the right fit for the customer. 

“I find that she’s rarely challenged with the books she reads, you know? I want her to really fall into the trance of a novel, have it leave an effect on her. I don’t think a book has done that for her yet,” the mum explained passionately.

Este thought back to the moments she felt that way for a book. One she read a couple of years ago—when she was definitely too old to do so—came up. Its heavy subject matter and vast symbolism and imagery struck her. Her hands picked the familiarly bright blue book. 

“This one’s called Challenger Deep. I read it well into my twenties, but it explores topics I think other teen fiction writers refuse to explore. A little heavy, but for the right purpose. I think your daughter would love it, if she feels really deeply, like me.”

The mother, Orla, spent another 25 minutes chatting with Este about the intensity of being a teenager in the state of the world. A phenomenon the book shop worker never got sick of was getting a peek into the lives of the people of Manchester. Este felt like every time someone new walked into the shop, she got to know her city a bit better.

“Thank you again, Este. You’ve been lovely,” said Orla after checking out the novel for her daughter. Her boots then stepped out of the shop and into the breezy evening air.

The quiet day continued, piles of books slowly getting sorted through and reorganised. Matty, of course, was on her mind. Este watched the clock as 6:30 neared, but no text came through from him yet. She was hoping he wouldn’t catch her while deep in conversation with another customer, or (embarrassingly) struggling to carry a stack of books.

Once 6:50 rolled around, Este finally heard from him.

matty

Fri, 28 Dec at 18:49 PM

Sorry im already late

Just left late tbh

Lol ur fine

Do you like bubble tea??

You realise I’m Asian right???? course I like bubble tea

and you don’t have to bring anything! I’m okay

Omg you’re asian I would have ever guessed

Shut up and tell me your order

Matcha milk tea with pearls pls

Thank you xx

Ok gonna be even more late now but u know why so

Matty didn’t end up walking through the front door until quarter past seven. “There he is,” commented Este.

He held the two bubble tea drinks, one in each hand, raising them both in celebration. “I made it,” he said, handing her the green one. “Only 40 minutes late!”

After thanking him, Este took hers to the counter to set it down and puncture the top with the pointy side of the straw. Matty did the same. She looked at his drink, taking note of its purple colour. “You like taro?”

He looked at her, confused. “Yes? Should I not like taro?”

A laugh escaped from her lips and she shook her head no. “You should. I love taro. Just surprised, that’s all,” she admitted without elaborating. 

“You’re surprised because I’m white and uncultured and should be picking, like, strawberry or something, aren’t you?” 

“I didn’t say that.”

✴

Matty carried over a metal stool from the back room to set it next to the one Este sat on. Together, they sat behind the counter, sipping on their teas and chewing up the boba. 

“Can you let me say one more thing about the album? So I can just get it out and then move on?” asked Este. Matty sat on her left, fidgeting with the spinning seat of his stool, swivelling back and forth over and over; while she sat still and faced him fully.

“Okay, fine. This is your last chance.”

She smiled, happy to be able to get her last point out. “My favourite track isn’t Love It If We Made It, like you’d think.”

“Really? What is it then?”

“I Couldn’t Be More In Love.”

Matty looked back at her for a second, shocked. “Tell me why.”

“It sort of feels like being down on your knees and screaming at the sky. And it sounds really guttural. Your voice carries with so much urgency. I love its composition too, with the twinkly 90s sounding keys and saxophone solo and key change. It has all the elements of a standard, a perfected and refined sound—that almost holds down the rawness of the vocal.”

His swivelling gradually slowed to a halt as Este spoke. She had pointed out every aspect of the song that Matty loved, while her hands gesticulated in front of her, helping her process her own thoughts. Every word she used felt carefully chosen and placed strategically. It was refreshing.

“You know,” Matty started, with a smile of gratitude hanging from his mouth. “I recorded that vocal, like, a day before I went to rehab. So there was this hopelessness to them, and to be honest I sang it better after I got out. But it just felt right, so we left ‘em.” 

“That makes me like it even more,” Este replied shortly, chewing more pearls and looking at him with admiration. She sensed he had more to say, so she let him continue. 

“And not many people know, but it isn’t about a girl or romantic relationship. I wrote it about the idea of, like, what happens if all of this disappears—when nobody cares. Getting to do this thing, writing music, and having it personally affect people and being able to keep making more. It’s genuinely the one way I make sense of the world. Not even the fact that I have that vehicle to process my emotions but just knowing that it’s there. What happens when I’m not sure it’s there anymore?”

She let the information sit between the two of them for a beat. “Things always make sense when you’re the one explaining them.” They smiled at each other. “It’s comforting. Makes me feel hopeful. Like, if someone understands themself in this way then maybe one day I will too. An understanding deep enough to remain curious.”

He laughed, swishing around the straw in his close to empty bubble tea. Setting it down on the counter, Matty’s feverish hands reached for something else to twiddle with. A stack of sticky notes was in his hands, now ripping the yellow sheets into skinnier strips and connecting them end to end to make one long piece. 

“When I listened the first time, I obviously thought it was about a relationship. So it made me think of an ex of mine,” Este mentioned hesitantly, watching Matty toy with the paper, nervous to bring up what she was about to. “It was my first time, like, actually being in love. So after things didn’t work out, it was so hard for me to grasp just not loving her anymore. When all I’d done the whole time was love her. So that whole, ‘What about these feelings I’ve got?’ thing really hit me.”

Matty paused for a second, having a quick panic internally. Is Este gay? I thought Cate was the gay one. It was embarrassing to imagine beginning to pursue someone not interested in him, let alone anyone of his gender. If that was the case, their friendship would be just fine the way it is—but his infatuation felt too far gone to reverse. 

“That’s kind of where that line came from. And what I want people to feel when they listen. But when I thought about what it means to me, it wasn’t romantic at all,” he said. “Have you loved anyone since then?”

“No. Not in the same way. The true bisexual experience is having a huge pool of humans you could be attracted to and then not liking any of them. At least for me,” Este responded, bringing a light-heartedness back into her speech. Matty relaxed in reassurance and joined her in laughter. Bi. Good. Phew, even. “Was it easy? Figuring out your sexuality, I mean?”

She got up to walk over to the door and bolt it shut, flipping the sign to read ‘closed’. “In a way. Growing up, I thought the feelings I had for girls weren’t the same as the ones I had for boys, just because I thought they had to be different. Even though I knew they were there. And then I grew up—learning more and more—and things started to make sense. But it was never fully easy, or linear. Or definitive.”

She sat back down, continuing to watch Matty fold up the ripped paper. He brought one end of the strip of paper up and around itself. Using his fingers to flatten it, a small pentagon was formed, and he took the remaining length of paper to resume folding. 

“That’s sort of what I find so difficult about it,” he admitted. “So many people over the years have taken what I say about my sexuality and construed it to mean something concrete—when that’s just not how I see it.”

His thumb nail, one by one, made small creases in each side of the flat chunk of paper to create the recognisable five points of a star. Matty set it down, now complete, on the counter and slid it over to Este. She picked it up and rolled it in her fingers, replying while studying it and bringing it close to her face. “It’s for sure frustrating when people think they know you better than you know yourself.”

Matty grabbed another couple of sticky notes to start another star. “I’m kind of envious of people like you, you know. Who have it figured out. I have such a hard time letting myself truly feel things that I find myself coming millimetres close to understanding myself in a different way than before and then I just pull away at the last minute. Just in fear of not liking what I discover, or looking stupid. Which I should stop being scared of.”

“I don’t have it all figured out, not even a little bit.” Este ripped up a few papers to try and copy him but she failed. No words had been shared between them about the technique, since they were busy conversing, so she only had the visual aid of Matty making another in front of her. She gave up, letting him just hand over the second one for her to hold. “You being aware of that fear is enough understanding in itself, in my opinion.”

They sat quietly for a couple of seconds, Este finishing her last few sips of tea and tossing the empty cup into the bin. “Is that what Sincerity Is Scary is about? That fear?”

He looked at her, nodding to confirm her question. “The stupidity of that fear.”

“Wow, I should become a music journalist or something,” she joked, shocked that she got it right.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, darling.”

Matty made more stars as their conversation persisted. He varied the width of every strip of paper to make ones of all sizes. A pile of yellow origami accumulated. Este watched, still not understanding how it was done. She found it endearing—and quite cute—to witness the attention and effort he was putting into the mundane craft. 

“You hungry?” she asked, finding a lull in their discussions. 

He glanced up at the clock, seeing its hands pointing at 10:07pm. “Always,” agreed Matty. “In the mood for something specific?”

Este remembered that she had walked to work that afternoon, after lending her car to Cate for the day while hers was getting serviced. So, she considered places within walking distance from Greenhouse. “Piccadilly Tavern does some good food. Just down the road,” she suggested. 

“Sounds good to me.”

They gathered Matty’s collection of stars into the corner of the counter, while Este secretly hoped Sam would leave them there for her to be able to collect them again tomorrow, and then put on their jackets. His bubble tea was now empty and in the bin alongside hers. 

Small clicks were heard while the two walked around the shop to turn off the lamps. Then, they were out the door one after the other, Este locking up behind them, and taking off to the pub. Matty extended his arm, bent at the elbow, towards her. She noticed—confused at first—but eventually wrapped her own around it and came close to the warmth of his body. The air sat at a chilly 5°C, but it didn’t feel that way when they had the other so close. 

As the pub neared, Matty and Este observed its packed nature from the outside window. They had both forgotten the state of pubs on Friday nights. 

“I honestly don’t think we’ll even physically fit inside,” he said as they paused before the door. Their arms were still linked. Este had to stop herself from accidentally stepping on Matty’s foot.

“I’d suggest another place, but they do a great margherita pizza here and it’s kind of all I can think about right now,” she confessed. 

He chuckled. “We can takeaway?” Matty pulled the door open, and she went in, approving of his suggestion. 

The wait for a pizza to share was only 15 minutes and Este left her number to get a call when they were ready; so they sat on the curb outside to avoid the bustling building. Despite him protesting, she paid for the food. Matty had already bought the drinks from earlier, so Este argued that it only made sense for her to cover dinner. He gave in.

“Oh, I have news for you,” Matty mentioned vaguely. 

Este was curious. “News?”

“Yeah. I finished On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous last night.”

“Go on! How do you feel?” she eagerly pushed. Matty dragged out his thoughts with silence to build suspense, making her writhe in impatience. Este shoved his shoulder with hers to try and get his words out faster. “Seriously, if you have anything bad to say about this one I might have to walk away right now. That’s a warning.” 

“I think it’s my favourite piece of fiction I’ve read in the past three years.”

✴

The pub rang Este about their ready-to-go pizza in the middle of their conversation about On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. They talked about Vuong’s words and what made them so poignant, and Matty even claimed that her annotations benefited his reading experience (and embarrassing her by referencing some of her notes verbatim). 

Matty offered to go inside to fetch their takeaway and carried it for the entirety of the walk to her flat, after they decided it was more sensible to go there rather than camping out in Greenhouse after hours. Plus, she knew that Cate would be staying over at Georgia’s for the night, so they’d have the place to themselves. By the time they got up to Este’s door, the food was still hot, since her flat was only a short walk from The Piccadilly Tavern. 

“Must be nice to live in this area. To be within walking distance to your work and all of the shops around Piccadilly and everything,” commented Matty. 

“Yeah. It's busy, though. And it makes it too easy to just stay in my little bubble and never leave.”

She held the door open for Matty and the pizza box to squeeze through, and he set it on the dining room table. 

“When I was in my early twenties—living here—I wouldn’t have ever wanted to leave,” he admitted.

Their jackets came off. 

“Water okay with you?” she asked, jug in hand. “It’s either that or wine. Choose wisely.” 

He opened up their takeaway, positioning the pizza so that they could share it, and then took a seat. “I mean… I’ve got no plans in the morning that a hangover could disturb. Do you?”

Este paused to think and then turned to pull on the handle of the drawer beneath the microwave, pulling out a corkscrew. Matty laughed at her non-verbal answer to his question and graciously accepted the glass of red she poured for him.

Their first bites of pizza hit the spot. Este wasn’t lying when she said the Tavern did a great margherita. They spent a couple of minutes eating, with small portions of conversation squeezing between their mouthfuls of pizza. 

“So what’s next year looking like for you? Touring the world?” she asked, stopping at her third slice. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Matty wiped his mouth with a napkin before continuing. “We start with the UK in early January, bit of a break in February. Then, hopefully the Brits—if we’re nominated. Off to South America for some festivals, then Coachella and US tour through to June maybe? Coming back over during the summer for Big Weekend and a bunch of European festivals. Summer Sonic in Japan, Reading and Leeds. Australia and then Asia—I think ending it off with more US dates. All while writing and recording the next album, too.”

Este’s mouth hung open, struggling to conceptualise his crazy schedule. A whole year of travelling? Non-stop? It seemed impossible to her. She realised that it’s Matty’s job and that he’d done it before, so it must not be as scary to him. “Wow,” was all she could mutter out. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t know if I’d survive that.”

“I barely did, last cycle. Did a bunch of smack, and stuff.” He sipped his wine and laughed. The glass was close to empty now. “But it’s worth it in the end."

She dusted the powdery flour accumulating on her fingertips into the corner of the box, considering the fact that it may be the last time she saw Matty for a while. It unexpectedly saddened Este. Conversing over text was fun and friendly, but moments like that first night; sitting on the couch and sipping beers in her flat, or drunkenly shouting at each other over the music in Kingston, and making origami stars behind the counter at Greenhouse, all made her realise how great his company was. Her attachment grew. Would their connection sustain through the year he was away? Does he even want it to sustain? she pondered.

“I’ll have to write down that crazy schedule on paper to break the news to my nan that you can’t attend her party,” Este joked. 

“When is it?” Matty asked. 

She could see a glimmer in his eye. Oh god. He wants to come, she thought. “No,” denied Este. “You’re not coming.”

A smile grew on his face as he realised she was onto his intent of asking. “Come on. Tell me when it is,” he insisted, playfulness evident in his voice.

“You’ll be on tour, Matty. I’m not going to make you show up to a banquet hall to celebrate my nan and granddad’s anniversary.” 

“It’s not ‘making me show up’ if she told you to invite me and if I want to go,” Matty argued. 

Este covered her face in embarrassment, with her elbows resting on the table in front of her, in disbelief that he wanted the information out of her. She spoke a ‘no’ but it was muffled by her hands in front of her mouth. He reached forward, pulling them away to reveal her face. In a flustered state, he noticed her mouth twitching up and down to try and stop a smile from showing up. Matty’s eyes found hers. He put on the biggest, corniest smile he could; eyes squinting, cheeks flexed, all teeth on display. Este couldn’t help but let her smile escape, Matty succeeding. She let out a laugh. 

“9th of February. Saturday,” she gave in.

Racking his brain for the specifics, he realised that the 9th was when he’d be off, after the UK leg and before South America. Matty couldn’t believe the coincidence, laughing to himself in bewilderment. “I’ll be in London.”

“For a show?”

“No. Home. Off, free. Perfect time to attend a dinner and dance event held in a banquet hall.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Be serious please, Matty.”

“I am.”

Este shook her head, deciding to avoid the conversation and pouring them both another glass instead. And then she poured another, and another. It neared two o’clock in the morning, the both of them lounging comfortably on the couch together. The bottle of red was empty, a beer sat in front of each of them on the coffee table, and they were passing a now second and half-smoked joint back and forth. Crossed out of their minds, the previously deep and thoughtful conversations from earlier in the night were long gone. 

Matty found himself doing things like explaining, in detail, the (objectively, according to him) correct way to put shoelaces into a pair of Converse; which he didn’t know he was so passionate about until he caught himself talking about it for far too many minutes. Este happily listened, equally as tipsy and high as him, shooting back with random tangents of the same minuscule relevance. It was the most fun each of them had all week.

The influence in their system along with the late hour of the night forced any remaining walls between them to falter. Este reached and touched his knee in laughter a few too many times to go unnoticed by Matty. He watched her eyes linger at the ink on his forearms that poked out of his cotton shirt while he blabbered. Her hands constantly reached up to flip the gold dragonfly hanging around her neck, but she always did.

Likewise, she caught sight of him breaking eye contact more than ever before. It looked like he was looking down at her lips, but she wasn’t sure. The curls on Matty’s head were disturbed by his fidgety hands every few seconds. Este thought it looked nice when they were messy so she wouldn’t dare complain. 

“I feel like there's wet concrete behind my eyes when I try to close them and open them again,” he said to nobody in particular, obviously tired.

“That was a weirdly descriptive way to say your eyelids are heavy.”

“Yeah I know, but that’s what it feels like.” Matty clicked the power button on his phone and read the time. It was past three now. He flipped it around to show Este. “I think it’s bedtime.”

She stood up, reaching into the basket of miscellaneous throw blankets that sat in the corner of her living room and tossing one to Matty. It landed directly on top of his head and made him giggle. They were both smart enough to know that there was no way Este would let him leave this late, so she didn’t bother even asking him to stay. 

“Don’t be alarmed if you hear me get up a million times during the night. Wine makes me wee,” she warned with a slight slur to her speech. 

“Noted.” Matty untied his shoes to remove them before pivoting his legs onto the sofa where Este was previously sat, laying flat. “Thank you for the pizza. And wine, and weed. And for letting me stay over.”

“You’re welcome. Now you know what I get up to on Friday nights.” She took a cushion from the opposite end, near his feet, and then walked back to where his head sat. Standing behind the arm of the sofa, Este lifted his head to place it underneath. He looked up at her and uttered a small ‘thank you’. 

She smiled back and laughed. “Your face looks silly when it's upside down.”

He wanted to pretend to be offended but he was too tired to carry out the bit.

Este continued to potter around the flat, still wanting to clean up after their night by putting the scattered bottles and glasses near the sink and closing the pizza boxes from the table. When it was tidy, she made her way back over to Matty. “You’re okay with sleeping here? On the sofa?”

He nodded, barely awake. “Of course. Don’t worry about me, I’ll knock out as soon as I close my eyes,” he assured her. Este was about to turn towards her room when Matty grabbed her hand to stop her first. “Wait, before I forget. On Beauty and Being Just.”

She raised her eyebrows. “On beauty and being just what?”

“It’s an essay you should read. Been on my mind all night but I couldn’t remember the title and it’s only just now come back to me.”

Este promised to read it but was unsure if she’d remember what was called in the morning. Walking away, she switched off the big light, before the two of them said a final goodnight. Not bothering to change her clothes, she fell asleep soundly.

6 >>

[aectpen]

STRAWBERRY ✯ 𝙕𝙃𝘼𝙉𝙂 𝙃𝘼𝙊!

m.list

synopsis: 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥

pairing: Zhang Hao of ZB1 and fem!oc

status: ongoing

chapter 9: first

rina nervously got ready to go see hao at their usual spot at the park. it's their first time meeting each other since they've recognized their mutual feelings for each other.

the past two days, the only thing on her mind was him. he not only validated her crush on a kpop idol, he reciprocated her feelings. the mere thought of him sent a smile to her face. even when she was doing a mundane task like cleaning the bathroom.

hao found himself in a similar situation. regardless of the circumstances, rina was his foremost thought. he'd catch himself saying things like, "rina would love this." sending her cute panda videos became a habit, knowing she'd adore them. in his mind, he envisioned the adorable frown she would make when seeing something cute.

underneath the soft glow of park lampposts, hao waited, butterflies fluttering in his chest. the air was charged with the anticipation of seeing rina. as she drew near, the surroundings seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them. feeling as though time itself slowed.

"hey," hao greeted, his voice was like a warm hug to rina's ears.

"hi," rina replied, her eyes reflecting the same excitement as his.

he walked her back to their usual spot where there was a lunch box sat on the table.

"what is this?" rina asked surprised to see a prepared meal.

he scratched the back of his neck and admitted, "i know we can't have normal people dates or outings. i thought i could make us some food, so we could have our own version of a dinner date."

rina was deeply moved by his thoughtful gesture and, in a spontaneous moment, she wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. "thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

he put his hands up, "seriously, it was nothing. but let's eat i'm starving."

they savored their meal in silence, enjoyed the comforting warmth of each other's company with occasional comments.

"you didn't tell me you were a chef!" rina nearly cleaned the container.

"that's not even my best," he bragged.

she rolled her eyes, "okay, humble brag."

"now, i have a surprise for you," she reached into her bag and pulled out a small pink container, "ta-da." she revealed two perfectly baked cinnamon buns. she decided to bake cinnamon buns for them, not knowing he'd bring dinner.

"are we already reading each other's minds?"

"it's a hell's kitchen-the great british baking show crossover episode," she joked.

while they enjoyed the cinnamon buns, he gently held her hand in his. neither of them could stop the smiles that played on their lips.

"what's our ship name?" hao asked out of nowhere.

"i can't believe i haven't thought of that yet. haona? rinhao? nahao?" she mused.

he laughed at the suggestions, "yeah, we're gonna have to go back to the drawing board."

he reached over to her face and lightly brushed the corner of her lip. "there was some frosting."

rina could feel her heart on the verge of beating out of her chest. the close proximity was not good for her faint heart. she looked over at his side profile and thought to herself; how did i get this lucky?

he turned to face her, "you like what you see?"

"i mean, it's whatever i guess," she pretended to check out her nails.

he got close to her face, playfully covering her view of her nails. "now do you like what you see?"

she didn't understand what came over her. the closeness of his face made her lose her composure. without thinking, she impulsively pressed her lips to his, a quick peck that left her shocked and immediately regretful. she covered her mouth in disbelief as if it wasn't her that had done it.

hao pulled away quickly shocked at her boldness.

"oh my god, i don't know why i did that."

before she got the chance to stumble through an awkward apology, hao softly cupped her cheeks and closed the gap between them. the taste of cinnamon and sugar from the buns they'd shared moments ago still lingered on their breath, adding a layer of sweetness to their connection. their kiss, a blend of warmth and shared longing, felt like the perfect ending to the night. everything around them seemed to fade away as they savored this sweet moment.

once they pulled away, they laid back against the seat. sighing in contentment while gazing up at the stars.

"who would've thought zhang hao would be my first kiss?"

"i was your first?" he asked in disbelief, "it didn't seem like it." he smirked.

"you weren't too bad yourself," she smacked his arm.

haemin👭🏻

are you not at home?

rina sighed at the text, not wanting her night with hao to end.

"it's okay if you have to head home. but i have one more thing for you," he pulled two tickets out of his coat pocket. "we're gonna be performing at a kpop concert, so i got tickets for you and haemin if she wants to come along," he paused. "and yes aespa will be there."

rina wrapped her arm around him tightly, leaning her head on him. he knew how much she loved them and wanted to see them perform live.

they said their usual goodbyes with a new addition of hao giving her a kiss on her forehead.

rina rushed home, texting haemin that she was coming home.

"what took you so long?" haemin stood at the door.

"sorry, i forgot you were coming over tonight." rina fumbled with her keys.

once they settled down, rina remember the good news she had. "guess what i got?" she handed the ticket to haemin.

she inspected the ticket, but handed it back to rina. "i already have a ticket. it's closer to the stage."

"are you going with somebody?"

"yeah."

rina tried to shake off the strange feeling. every time haemin caught wind of a concert, she'd rush to rina with a screen shot of the announcement, demanding that she come along. she wondered why all of a sudden she got a new concert buddy and seemed disinterested.

"okay, i guess." rina took back the ticket.

riri🐼 welp apparently she's going with someone else

haohao🐼 and she didn't tell you?

riri🐼 i know right? she was all like "it's closer to the stage" like dpmo😭

haohao🐼 how close?

"haemin, how close are your seats?"

"8th row on the floor, why?"

"just was wondering."

riri🐼 she said 8th row

haohao🐼 i'll get you front row from my manager and bring it to you tomorrow that is so you could get the best view of my face of course🙏🏻

riri🐼 you're rlly the best person ever i'll be looking at jiwoong mind you

haohao🐼 trust that i'll block him from your view

riri🐼 i will find my way

haohao🐼 go to sleep you're getting delirious

riri🐼 don't be jealous you're the apple of my eye goodnight

haohao🐼 okay okay i guess goodnight rina

[oc-smash-or-pass]

What do?

Well, it's all rather simple.

First, if you're below 18, get outta' here. You can't and shouldn't be smashing anything you see on this blog, you should be doing your homework.

Otherwise, send in up to four pictures, via either the ask box or the submission box—no difference to me—of your character. Don't use DMs though, or I'll crush your bones.

Name your character, tell us what property they come from, their gender identity, and give us a description of your character, their backstory, their personality, and any details you feel may be to the audience's interest.

To lay down some ground rules:

Both entirely original characters and fan-characters are encouraged to apply. Anonymous submissions are permitted; you can't send images anonymously, but you can just say you wish to be anonymous and I'll not tag you in the post. Upon your first submission, please specify if you'd like to be assigned a sequential tag such as anonyous1 (so that people can see all of the OCs that belong to you, even as you remain anonymous), or if you'd like each post to remain individual and generic.

You can send in multiple submissions of your OCs, but if you send more than 2, I will probably spread them out between future submissions instead of putting them directly into the queue.

In general, the blog's tone can be somewhat horny, but please don't push it. You can only use SFW images, but reasonably suggestive images are fine and a tasteful amount of discussion on NSFW topics in your character's description is acceptable.

In the interest of maximum variability, I won't be accepting OCs made with Picrew and similar tools. However, pictures made using resources such as Heroforge or video game character creators with more extensive options will be accepted. If you're not sure, just send in an ask! Oh, and obviously, no A.I. garbage.

In terms of interacting with the posts, just be cool. Don't be too creepy, weird or rude. You can be openly horny for a character without making it creepy, and if you don't like a character's design or art, you don't need to say anything.

Finally, ideally, vote on the basis of your interest in the character themselves, rather than externalities such as the property they come from or the quality of their art. That's the spirit of the exercise!

Here is an example submission, so that you can get a basic idea of what to send in:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

JOHN SMITH

Imagine there's a poll right here with the options 'SMASH' or 'PASS'.

John Smith is a character from my original setting, called Earth. He hails from a distant federation of smaller states known as the United States of America, and specifically from the state of Illinois. There, he works hard in his honorable profession as a sort of 'common mage', called into homes to inspect and repair the arcane bindings that channel magic into technology such as 'light bulbs' and 'ovens'.

He is 49 years old, lives modestly with his wife and son in a two-bedroom home in a small town, and regularly enjoys barbecuing, going to the beach, and watching contemporary sports such as "Foot Ball". Some call him short tempered, but really he's just a little loud and excitable. He is happy with the relatively humble life he has settled into, and wonders what more one could want.

Submitted by anonymous.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hopefully the basic idea is clear! Get to sending me those little guys... NOW!

[ao3cassandraic]

I humbly suggest that Vimes doesn't fit very well into the Lawful Good box, or indeed any of the D&D alignment boxes.

Vimes decides, yes -- sometimes verbally, sometimes by his actions, sometimes by vibes -- but he doesn't decide to be lawful always (because the law can be an ass and often is in Ankh-Morpork, worse still outside it), nor does his behavior always comport with what his environment thinks is good.

(And that's a thing about D&D alignment, right there in the name even: it assumes that good/evil is intrinsic to the setting, not the PCs, such that the PCs have to "align" with those definitions or risk losing character perks. D&D alignment doesn't really have room for the kind of internal wrestling that Vimes does. Or, for that matter, Vetinari.)

I think Vimes is doing something just a bit different: virtue ethics. Vimes doesn't subscribe to the ethics codes of Ankh-Morpork; he's not religious, nor does he obey civil authority unquestioning. Nor is he the kind of person for whom "good/evil" is a clear and obvious discontinuity (he's a noir hero, that ain't how noir works). So the poor bastard has to figure out largely for himself how to be a decent human being, and then he has to live up to his own beliefs on that score. He asks "what kind of person do I want to be?" (Note the total absence of "good/evil" from that question! It's not that simple for Vimes, or frankly for anybody!) He comes up with answers, and sticks by them. That's virtue ethics.

He doesn't figure out his lodestars alone, thanks to a weird timey-wimey combination of John Keel, Vetinari, himself, and even Sybil Ramkin and Carrot, plus a panoply of crappy examples like Mayonnaise Quirke that he rejects. (It's not uncommon for folks in Roundworld to define our ethics against what we don't want to be! I certainly have, in some respects.) But he does do it, and part of the reason that the late Vimes books don't work as well for me is that the struggle is interesting... the continued witness to the already-largely-won struggle, less so.

(Another issue with Vimes is that as Ankh-Morpork ameliorates somewhat under his influence and Vetinari's, Vimes's struggle also lessens. That, I think, is why Pratchett had to go to Crundells to find more dilemmas for Vimes. That is the least successful Vimes book, by the way, because Vimes absolutely betrays himself: Crundells is as upstairs-downstairs at the book's end as it is at the beginning, not really reformed or even questioned sufficiently. I hate that for Sybil too -- she's had control of it for years, and it's still Like That while she farts around with shoulder dragons? Sheesh, PTerry. Gimme some damn land reform, and while we're at it, how much of the Ankh-Morpork property that Sybil owns is slums?)

Sometimes Vimes's answers are wrong, frankly: he starts the series as an avowed racist, and only gradually -- arguably incompletely -- reforms. Virtue ethics allows for that! You get to change your sense of what a decent person is, especially as new-to-you ethical challenges arise. Vimes's racism is wrong by his own lights in part because it's essentialist -- vampires and werewolves are intrinsically WrongBad because of what they are -- something virtue ethics is decidedly not cool with. And so we see a repeated Discworld motif of Vimes confronted with decent non-humans -- Angua, Cheery, Lady Margolotta (in her winkingly Machiavellian way), Sally -- and revising his concept of who can be good to match, with an assist from the "coppers don't have race or gender, we're coppers" belief that is a strong (though flawed; he never puts a stop to the racebaiting pranks in the Watch) part of his ethical stance.

I think it's so, so important to see this kind of struggle in fiction. Imperfect though Discworld is, imperfect though Vimes is both Doylistly and Watsonianly, they're important.

“Vimes is fundamentally a person. He fears he may be a bad person because he knows what he thinks rather than just what he says and does. He chokes off those little reactions and impulses, but he knows what they are. So he tries to act like a good person, often in situations where the map is unclear.”

—

Terry Pratchett, describing Sam Vimes in a Usenet post back in 2004.

Also, accidentally, describing me. Shit.

(via benpaddon)

Okay, so this is what I love about Samuel Vimes as a Heroic figure. 

Sometimes you get Heroes who are paragons of virtue. Even if you see their internal monologues, their mindset is pure and virtuous. Sometimes, they’re tested and you get a Big Moment where they have to choose whether or not to stick to their principles or give in to temptation and expediency.  

And then you’ve got the more “Pragmatic” anti-hero types, who do some nasty things in pursuit of the greater good, and who might struggle with the things they’re doing, but they do it anyway because the world is not black and white.  And then you’ve got Sam Vimes, who is dragging himself kicking and screaming into being Lawful Good. Sam Vimes would not beat a suspect into confessing, but NOT because Sam Vimes is an innocent soul who finds the idea abhorrent. Not because he dosn’t think there are some scumbags who deserve to be separated from their teeth. Sam Vimes won’t beat a suspect because that’s not what a good man would do. Sam Vimes is understanding with others, but totally uncompromising when it comes to his own behavior.

Vimes isn’t a “Good Person” by nature, but by choice. By constant, uncompromising choice. 

I think this is the only way to be a decent person.

(via nimblermortal)

[yhwhrulz]

Today's Daily EncounterFriday, March 28, 2025

The Workplace

You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had. Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges, he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.1

The way people view the gospel is greatly influenced by how Christians act outside the church. The way we live must permeate all areas of life, including the workplace.

Our behavior reflects our faith. So if we claim to be Christians, then our coworkers, boss, and employees will compare our attitudes and actions to Christ. Do those around you see a positive reflection of God?

Let's look at a biblical model. First, as we read in today's passage, we must see ourselves as servants and put the needs of others before our own. Next, we must recognize that our true boss is Christ, therefore, we work with integrity and effort, knowing that our reward comes from Him (Colossians 3:23). Therefore, since all authority on earth is God-given (Romans 13:1), we are to obey our superiors willingly, unless they ask us to do something that goes against God's Word. And finally, we must see that all those with whom we work and for whom we work have value in the eyes of the Creator and should be treated with respect (1 John 4:7-8).

Suggested Prayer: Dear Heavenly Father, thank You that in today's passage you remind me that I need to have an attitude like Jesus. Lord, help me to be a reflection of you at work, at home, and wherever I go. May everything I do be done for you, knowing that You are present at all times of my day. I pray in Jesus' name, Amen.

Philippians 2:5-8 (NTV).

Today's Encounter was written by: Rosina N.

NOTE: If you would like to accept God's forgiveness for all your sins and His invitation for a full pardon Click on: http://www.actsweb.org/invitation.php. Or if you would like to re-commit your life to Jesus Christ, please click on http://www.actsweb.org/decision.php to note this.

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When copying or forwarding include the following: "Daily Encounter by Richard (Dick) Innes (c) 2005-2023 ACTS International

[nox-icate]

. Welcome .

Welcome to the humble abode that my blog brings. This blog is 14+ and may contain triggering topics, artistic nudity and some lightly suggestive works. I also selfship with Donatello from ROTTMNT, the relationship is primarily depicted as queer platonic with some rare romantic undertones. I also depict Donnie aging with me, so a year or so older, if that makes you uncomfortable feel free to block me or the tag: #Coritello [💜] I'm a man with many names, preferred ones right now being; Corrie/Corium, Donnie, Evan and Nox (names in order of most preferred to least). But any nickname you deem suitable works for me. I use primarily He/Xe/They pronouns, but at the end of the day I really don't care which you use. She/her being the only exception, refrain from using she/her please. Please also stick with using masculine or gender neutral terms when referring to me.

. BYI .

Please remain aware that I struggle mentally and have been professionally diagnosed. I have professionally diagnosed Autism, Dyslexia, Anxiety, ADHD, and I am also under the bipolar umbrella. I do suspect that I have some form of depression, paranoia, and avoidant personality disorder but have never had the time to be professionally diagnosed, please take the accuracy of this information with a grain of salt. Please keep patience with me in mind while interacting as I can have unpredictable mood swings and can unintentionally take things personally. I am a very affectionate person with a tendency to cling onto people, and can come off too friendly too fast. If I’ve ever crossed a boundary/made you uncomfortable, please don’t be afraid to let me know. I don’t intend nor want to make anyone uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form and struggle with picking up cues/indicators that I’ve crossed a boundary. I also have a tendency to show platonic affection like one would show romantic affection (in other terms, im queerplatonic), if this makes you uncomfortable please let me know! I may need constant reassurance during out friendship due to my anxiety and issues with past relationships, I apologize ahead of time.

. Tags + Links + Moots .

Links: Bluesky <- Discord server <- Toyhouse <- Youtube <- Pronouns page <- StrawPage <- My bugs (friends): #Death's-head hawkmoth [💀] @mossy-box (Very close friend, basically the Leo to my Donnie) #European rhino beetle [🍂] @krashk9 / @k9alpine (Another very close friend, love her with all my heart) #Acorn weevil [🌰] @drxxtavern (Woo yeah, woo yeah! One of my closest friends alonside Mossy-box Love them with all my heart) #Orchid mantis [🌺] @atomic-rattz / @aquaviik (The silliest goose, a younger sibling figure to me :3) #Velvet worm [🎀] @lace-sutures (Cool person! Look up to her a lot, awesome art and very sweet <3) #Purple emperor [🦋] @mr-urple (Awesome artist, I look up to him a lot) [☀️] Venezuelan suntiger @mvost / @ghostbredtt (Super cool beans person!!) My tags: #BeepBoop [👾] <- My tag for when I yap, including when i yap in tags (May include vents) #My art [🎨] <- Self explanatory #My ocs [🖌️] <- Self explanatory All my ocs in a masterpost <- (TBA) #Gifts [🎁] <- Any art for me by someone else #My sona [🐊] <- Art including one of my many sonas, mainly including my alligator truesona. All my sonas in a masterpost <- (TBA) #Coritello [💜] <- Selfship tag for my sona and R!Donatello #Disperse [♻️] <- Reblog tag #Swamp dwellers [🌾] <- Tag for any of my mutuals without their own tags #Anon queries [❔] & #Queries [❔] <- Anon asks and normal asks #Bug-ified [🦗] <- Where i design a bug-ified variant of friends sonas. My aus + Iterations tags and their masterposts: #ROTTMNT FQ <- Four quarters, separation au where I go into debt about how I would imagine how certain characters would act if they were raised by someone else, very heavy with personal head cannons and redesigns. Masterpost <- (TBA) #ROTTMNT monstrous <- ROTTMNT au where Donnie gets double mutated, angst and very selfship heavy, HUGE wip. Masterpost <- (TBA) #ROTTMNT sv <- ROTTMNT Au where it becomes its own spiderverse. Masterpost <- (TBA)

#TMLP AU <- ROTTMNT au that takes place post movie while they are still healing, Mikey unable to control his new found powers accidently portals them into equestria, now they try to find a way home. Masterpost <- (TBA) #TMNT Solidarity <- Iteration where I put my own twist on the franchise, very rottmnt and 2003 tmnt esque story and character wise, huge wip atm. Masterpost <- (TBA) TMNT in conjunction <- Iteration where all the characters are based HEAVILY off of me and my friends. Masterpost <- (TBA) #Tmnt Prehistoric <- Iteration where the 4 are instead mutated with dinosaur and other (mainly reptilian) DNA. As the grow up they try to learn how to adapt to their circumstances in a family farm. Masterpost <- (TBA)

. Interests .

As of currently I'm fixated on an abundance of things, which includes, but is not limited to: Arcane, Blue eye samurai, Bluey, Ducktales (2017), HTTYD, I saw the TV glow, MLP, Saw, Scooby Doo, Scream, Spider man, Stranger things, Sweet tooth, The Alien franchise, The good doctor, The last of us, The quarry, Transformers, Usagi Yojimbo, Venom, Wild kratts, and TMNT! I'm an animal nerd, my favorite animals being reptiles, dinosaurs, bugs, and aquatic life! My absolute favorite animals are Alligators and Crocodiles. I am also infatuated with the science of radiation and know quite a bit of the reactor's meltdown in Chernobyl. I just love science in general and have begun getting into astronomy. I also love renaissance art (and the renaissance era in general), vintage children's literature, geology, natural disasters, special effects in older films, medical science, and abandoned places. I'm quite a yapper and can become excited if someone shares a mutual interest, please don't be afraid to initiate conversation if we do!

. Boundaries .

I do NOT do art requests of anyone's ocs or works. In short, I will likely not do your request unless I know you really well and offered to, I will make art on my own standards and don't owe you anything. My ask box is always open and I enjoy getting asks, please keep in mind I can get socially awkward and have a bad tendency to be dry in replies. Please try to keep it PG in my ask box, jokes are fine to an extent but please use common sense when talking to a stranger online. I tend to take things wrong so tone-tags are greatly appreciated. I also have a bad tendency to forget things, please don't be afraid to point out my slip ups. I ask that you don't use any of my personal art for your own use, this includes pfps, banners, and other usage of my illustrations. The only exception of this is if it's your oc, or a public media character (not including aus or iterations), if so please request permission and ALWAYS give me credit, its the least you can do. I don't tolerate any hate or drama, this blog is my own personal safe-space and escape from reality, if you have any issues with me you have every right to block me, everyone's comfort comes first. I don't have a set DNI list outside of the basics, just keep in mind I will not tolerate dark-shipping or whatever term you freaks call yourself. I'm also not afraid to block freely and do block back for my own comfort.

. My playlist .

[pastelxapplecore]

My name is Xed/Pastel ^v^ (He/Xe/They)! I am 25 years old and any other art accts will likely have the username pastelxapple if you want to find me on other platforms!

This is gonna be my multifandom page for my insane thoughts and hyperfixations :3 expect cringe, LOTS of cringe

Blog intro, tags, & rules ⬇️

TAGS:

#my art (or #xed art) - My art tag! You can find my artwork directly with this tag 🐍✨

#ask box - All replies to my inbox are tagged with this! It comprises mostly of Q&As of my mercs or other characters, art requests, and other questions!

#lore crumbs 🍰 - Small pieces of art and/or posts about my ocs or AUs! 👏🏼✨ I try to tag posts with any info or headcanons about my characters/AUs ^^

#pastelsneksona (or #snakesona) Tag used for any art I make of my snakesona! 🐍💖

#tsu art - (or #twin art) - Art tag for my twin's artwork 🦊 (@/hoshi-tsubasa )! I love sharing her work and she deserves more praise for it! ^v^✨ Yes she is a furry so be kind!!!

#moot art 💖 - Art tag for my artist mutuals! I love to share their work so I keep this tagged to their stuff so I can find it again (cuz I'm dumb and don't wanna scroll through reblogs for eternity)

Note: I may tag some ships with more personal labels so please keep in mind that they will usually have their own individual tags!

General Info:

Pr0shipper/“problematic” (l0licon, AI "art", etc...) accounts DNI!!! I will block you >:(((

IF YOU DON'T LIKE MY CONTENT PLEASE BE POLITE AND MOVE ON!!! I'll post some niche/rarepair ships sometimes, which are often comfort ships for different reasons (some personal)! I'm just here to have fun and draw what I like 💌 If any ship that I post is not your cup of tea I kindly suggest to keep any comments to yourself and just move on, harassment and hate on my art blog(s) will not be tolerated here. You WILL be blocked if you leave rude comments over me for liking a ship. I love the ships I love for deeper reasons often for personal comfort and/or self healing purposes, and I do not go around claiming them as canon (I respect the source content, I just ship outside of it as fanon). I also have favorite ships from many fandoms so keep in mind that I do fandom hop.

Please be aware I likely will not draw nsfw! There may be suggestive art tho from time to time :3c Some things will be tagged with tw if needed!

Please do not use ship tags on my art unless I have them put down myself! I am not comfortable with certain dynamics being labeled as ships, especially if the dynamic is not meant to be in any form romantic/sexual ;;

In addition, please be aware I have ADHD and an alter system (DID), so please note that I may go silent with posts every once in a while. My mental health is not a subject I care to make front and center here, so I prefer any questions or topics of such be kept private! Thank you! 💖

If you can I encourage you to reblog my artwork if you like it! Traction on tumblr is very different than on other social sites like twitter and tiktok, so it would mean a lot to me if you could share my art! 🥺💌 I'm deeply humbled if you enjoy my content, thank you!

Ask Box Rules:

This is a 16+ ask blog, so if you wanna ask me anything something pls feel free! Please keep questions relatively appropriate (a few dirty jokes I don't mind depending on the context)! Anon questions will be turned on and off from time to time, but if people completely abuse it or things get out of hand I will shut them off permanently ;3; Also please respect that there's a limit for how much you can ask of me, I won't consistently draw the same thing over and over if it's asked for like more than 3 times (especially by the same person)!

If I do not respond to your ask, it may be because I am either uncomfortable with the ask, am unsure how to respond, or simply do not feel that it is an ask that needs to be posted. I am also NOT an rp blog so I will not respond to rp-like asks. Please respect this, thank you!

Please be respectful! I have major anxiety and communication/socializing is difficult for me, so I may not engage in conversations much ;0; I do get super nervous with parasocial behavior!!! I will do my best to respond to my inbox so please be patient with me 💌

Fanart/Art Rules:

Art Trades are for mutuals only! I rarely do them but think they're fun! Also will only do an art trade if the level of art quality and skill is the similar to my own, thank you! 💖

This isn't entirely an art request blog but depending on the question in the ask box I might doodle something if I'm interested enough! 🍰✨ I don't really draw ship requests often tho! ;3; Might do some that I like but depends!

I don't mind fanart! If you'd like to make fanart for me please tag me so I can see your lovely work! However pls don't draw any of my ocs or version (aus included) of characters inappropriately or in ships I otherwise am not comfortable with, as they likely have pre-established relationships ;; Also please do not misinterpret/take creative liberties with my ocs or snakesona, as they are my personal reflections of myself and I am more sensitive about art of them. I am uncomfortable with misinterpretations and/or nsfw art of them. If you are unsure about anything please ask me first, I am very firm and particular about them! Thank you!!! 💖

If you want to use my art as a profile pic please ask me first!!! DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY ARTWORK!!!!