#postal label

[chimericmacandcheese]

i love misusing postal labels

[rabidbatboy]

POSTAL DUDE 4 POSTAL DUDE: an amasui term for postal dude loving postal dude (from postal)

TAGGING: @radiomogai @amasuicola

🧼 ——— FLAG COINED BY ME

[kxllboii]

Me? Draw Killjoy Dude like the PIII box art?? Nahh, must be imagining things

I cant draw flowy trenchcoats for the life of me man

[renee-mariposa]

In light of the fact that FedEx is now mis-delivering 50% of my packages (!!!) I wish companies shipping within the continental US were forced to give buyers the option of shipping with USPS. Like, you can offer FedEx or UPS or whoever you have a contract with but you must also allow the choice to ship with USPS instead.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

this is me venting into the void about my woes with the united states postal service

I HATE complaining about literally any service people are providing for me so so much, but we got a new postal carrier on my road like a month ago and I literally don't think I've had a single piece of mail correctly delivered since. For reference, this should not be hard because I live in a house clearly marked with the address and my mailbox has the address and my last name right there. My mailbox is right next to the neighbor's who gets their mail correctly delivered every day, you literally cannot miss it. You have to extend your arm only slightly further to reach mine.

But I've had one thing returned due to the address being "incorrect" even though I know it was correct, a month ago, and it's still not here so I'm worried it got returned again. And I was supposed to have something delivered today and it hasn't shown up, so I'm worried it might've got sent back, too. I realized today I don't think I've gotten a single thing in the mail other than generic spam for the past month so I think EVERYTHING is getting sent back for some reason. I went to the post office earlier to complain but I haven't heard anything back yet and they close for the day in an hour so I'm losing hope on being able to catch my package before it gets sent back again.

Just like. C'mon. Why is this so difficult. Put my mail in the mailbox. I would hate for anyone to get in trouble over this but dude. What's going wrong here. What's not clicking

[daddymymouthisfullofstars]

•

[duckydemons]

RICK HUNTER MY LOVEE!!!

ALL Postal 1997 voice lines

[dykecrawler]

im gonna have 2 lizards again in like. 24 hours

[catguys]

"He's not that bad guys!!!!!" a Postal 1 Dude analysis very long post. apologies.

He’s not a chaotic mess like the rest of them. He was just a regular guy whose life spiraled in the worst way possible.

The thing is, the Dude isn’t portrayed as malicious. He doesn’t actually speak at all in the game, and honestly? That silence says a lot. The promo materials describe him as "quiet" and "nice," which feels important when you think about how much he struggles with social norms. Like the whole "calling a girl he went on one date with his girlfriend" thing. That could be part of his delusions, sure, but it could also be because he doesn’t really get social cues. He just doesn’t connect with people in a typical way. That's one of the reasons I hc him as autistic, he’s quiet, struggles with social stuff. It makes sense.

When everything falls apart he doesn’t even want to be violent. The first thing he thinks of when he’s attacked is to go to the sheriff. That’s not the reaction of someone itching to go on a killing spree, he just wanted someone else to deal with it. But when you’re convinced people are shooting rockets at you, self-defense becomes a pretty logical reaction.

What’s wild is that his whole mindset shifts as the game goes on. At first, it’s just about survival, he’s trying to make it out alive. But then you get to the train station, and he writes in his journal, "If I can get out, I can warn everybody." That’s such a selfless thing to do. He goes from protecting himself to wanting to save everyone, which is a massive contrast to, say, P2, who would probably watch the world burn and laugh about it.

There’s also this weird reluctance to his violence that makes him stand out. In the trailer park, he writes: “There must be others like me, immune to this...germ warfare or whatever it is.” That line hits because it shows he doesn’t want to kill anyone. He’s genuinely hoping to find normal people instead of fighting. Compare that to the other Dudes, who’ll happily shoot someone for cutting in line.

The ghetto section is even more telling. He straight-up admits he’s scared of getting mugged, which is just… normal guy behavior? And the fact that he calls his journal a "diary" again at that point? It’s like his war mentality cracks under the stress, and you see the real, scared guy underneath. His schizophrenia plays a huge role in everything, amplifying his fear and confusion to a breaking point. He’s not just paranoid, he’s genuinely convinced that the world is out to get him, which drives his actions. The delusions aren’t just background noise, they shape his reality, making him believe he’s the hero in a fight against an invisible threat. The fact that his voice lines are labeled as "demon" in the game settings adds a whole new layer to his character. It’s like the game itself hinting that his inner voice isn’t even his own. Whether it’s a metaphor for his fractured psyche or a literal possession, it reinforces how disconnected he is from himself and how little control he really has.

P1 Dude is just some regular guy who got hit with a string of awful circumstances. He’s trying to do the right thing, but his mental state is shot, and he’s being manipulated by something way bigger than he can understand. He’s not like the other Postal Dudes at all—if anything, he’s probably the most grounded and empathetic character in the franchise.

oh, and RWS literally said he’s “just an average guy having a bad day,” so there’s that. anyway this ended up way longer than I planned but I wanted to get my thoughts out, so um thanks for coming to my ted talk

[agirlandherkinks]

Hypnovisor: Beta Test (TGTF, Hypno)

James had always been a tech super-fan. The newest phone, newest headphones, shiniest laptop, he had to stay abreast of and on top of the current trends. So when he read about some fancy new VR company that wanted beta testers for a headset, provided for free (minus shipping), his vision blurred and he signed up before he even considered finishing reading the ad.

Three weeks of anticipation and waiting passed until his doorbell finally rung, accompanied by the corresponding buzz of an email notification on his phone. Scrambling from his couch he flung the apartment door open, and to his mild surprise saw that the postman was nowhere in site. There was just a nondescript cardboard box labelled "Fragile", which fortunately bore none of the expected dents and scratches one would associate with the postal service and delicate freight. Practically bouncing with undignified delight, James scooped his parcel up and dashed back inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind him.

The headset looked even better than he had imagined. Sleek plastic curves surrounded a central visor that was just translucent enough to see through, meaning you could walk around safely if you turned a program's opacity down. It fit beautifully when he tried it on, more comfortable than anything he'd ever worn. Wearing it felt wonderful and... right, somehow. His only complaint was that the black headset was decorated in hot pink highlights, although it still looked futuristic enough to sooth his fragile masculinity. His roommate and best friend Erik certainly agreed, interspersing James' insightful comments with appropriate "Ooh's" and "Aah's". Waiting for the battery to charge seemed to take a thousand years, although chatting with each other about what it could do replaced their boredom with swiftly growing excitement.

Two hours later, a soft buzz from the headset in the corner signified its charge was complete. Erik cheered, his sandy-blonde hair bouncing behind him, and even James couldn't suppress a soft whoop of excitement. Erik unplugged it and handed it to James with a flourish and a bow, who accepted it with a suitable stuffy speech. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he was so giddy with anticipation he felt he could match Erik's goofiness for once. The advertisement had promised unmatched realism, a luxurious fit, and cutting-edge, groundbreaking technology. Normally James would have discounted claims like that as corporate claptrap, but the headset fit so well he actually believed the rest of it.

Booting up the headset brought a perky, relaxing jingle in his ears and wall of settings text in his vision. He would have read it, but between his own excitement and Erik's infectious enthusiasm he left the settings on default and skipped to the main menu. The feedback for the buttons was amazing, it felt just like he was pressing down on them whenever he touched one! Another little jingle sounded as he confirmed his choices, and a few games and applications bubbled up into his view, imposed over a hot pink background.

"So Erik, what do you think I should try," James asked. "We've got a music player, interior design app, some sorta idle monster game, and a few RPG's." "Surely try out the RPG's man! You've gotta see that high-definition you were yammering about when we called." Erik's voice came back surprisingly muffled, as if he was speaking down a long tunnel. "Bro, I can barely hear you, the noise-cancelling on this headset's insane! It's like I'm in a world of my own!" James took a deep breath, recovering a little of his composure. "Alright, an RPG it is. Fantasy, sci-fi, or modern day?" "Go fantasy! You know we've both got a thing for elf chiiiicks. Hell, with the kind of feedback you were telling me about, you might even get to grab her" Erik's distant voice sounded playful, with a ting of desire and jealousy. And it did make James hard, at the thought of getting to look and squeeze and fondle some busty elf bitch, made entirely to his wishes~

To James' horror a quiet moan escaped his lips, accompanied by faint hysterical laughter from his friend. Brushing it off angrily, he slammed the icon for 'Silverflame: A Magical Journey' (the button felt like thick moss to his touch). Instantly a soft flute begun to play in his ears, accompanied by the gentle lull of a harp and a quiet sparkling. James felt himself relax, all the tension draining out of his body. Erik must have noticed too, because James heard his laughter die down to be replaced with a slightly concerned silence. "Don't worry man," James said, "music's just really pretty..." He trailed off with a slight giggle, but heard Erik give an affirmative just before a silky, sultry voice started to speak.

"Welcome traveler, to the beautiful world of Silverflame. An untamed paradise where strange beasts roam the land, noble adventurers go forth in search of treasure, and the most wonderful magic [James shuddered] is woven. You are the latest brave, beautiful heroine [Heroine? Shouldn't I get to choose my character's gender first?] to step foot into this land. But first, tell us a bit about who you really are."

Pink sparkles rained across the screen, superimposing his view of a vibrant meadow with a series of stats. Physique, IQ, Wisdom, and Charisma, fairly standard stuff. And next to it, a human man with a blank, slightly happy expression on his face [...did he look familiar?]. James gasped, he looked just like a real person! Erik was suitably impressed by this information, and urged him to pick some stats so he can get to the body modification. "You can always change them later man, might as well pick a couple of stats now and get a move on. Sounds like you're not gonna get to pick your gender for a while, which kinda sucks. Buuut if we're being horny about this, you might as well go for a slut scaffold so you make less changes later." James chuckled at this, remembering the build they discussed one night while both sloshed beyond belief. For this game it would be high Physique and Charisma, low IQ and Wisdom. James touched the slider for Physique, and gasped as he felt himself feel... better than he had in a long time.

Not trusting his senses any more, and worrying about Erik being exposed to whatever was happening from the other side of the headset, James brushed off his concerned questions (which he could barely hear now, past the soothing, soothing, music) and suggested he went to the toilet, since he'd been holding it in since he got here. Erik grumbled at missing out, but mercifully left. James was actively sweating from what just went through his body, but couldn't muster the energy or concentration to feel the level of panic he knew he should be. The music was just so, so calming, that fear was harder to feel than usual. The prompt told him he still had to change two more stats, so he decided to turn down Wisdom. He gasped again and his vision went blurry, and when it cleared he felt a bit, fuzzier? In the head. But it wasn't too bad, in fact it was perfectly manageable. He felt even calmer now, so maybe changing another stats would make him feel better. Why not IQ? He tapped the slider.

He groaned as an immense pressure wrapped around his brain. Thoughts, aspirations, memories felt like they were melting from his head faster than they appeared. The pressure seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually it trailed off and he was left panting in his chair. It had felt, really good? Like, tots good, even. James giggled to himself. Something was different about him, but he couldn't think what. Oh well, it'll probably come to him later. He squealed in delight as he realized he could get a step closer to the body modification page, although he looked longingly at the IQ slider. He could come back to it later, for now it was time to make his super-hot elf slut a body!

James clapped to himself with delight as a cute little melody played, a shower of sparkles spiraled [spiraled...] across the screen, and the man on the side moved to the center of the screen. "Firstly", the sultry voice said, "choose what race you want to be." That was an easy choice. He clicked on the 'Elf' button, and shivered as he felt tingles run through his body, intensifying in his ears. Reaching up to touch them, he inhaled as he felt long, pointed tips. In fact, his whole body seemed a bit slimmer. This doesn't quite feel right... he thought. Oh I know! It must be making me an elf too! Maybe we'll be in a party together! Between the strange fuzziness and the pulsating heat in his groin, James quickly flicked to the next page and made his choices. Long, silver hair, gorgeous big purple eyes, and some giant perky lips. "Combination unlocked!" the narrator exclaimed, "+1 Charisma, -1 Wisdom!" James giggled again as the mental fog settled a little tighter around his brain and naughty thoughts about cute girls and boys filled his brain. Boys? Well I guess I've never minded swinging both ways... This felt natural to him, because of course he'd always been bisexual. Next screen!

"Choose your voice young heroine," the woman commanded. James felt a little strange, like her voice was echoing around his head. And why were the sparkles still there, spinning and spinning around the screen. He felt confused, but knew he had to obey that voice. He picked the sexiest combination for his own voice; high pitched, breathy, perky. "Combination unlocked! +1 Charisma, -1 Int." He moaned as that wonderful pressure wrapped his brain and his weekend plans changed to eyeing hunks at the beach. Girls were cool and all, but men had always been more interesting to him [and their pulsing, hard...].

"Now heroine, can you tell me: Are you a girl, or a boy?" The question sent shock waves through his brain. He was a he... right? Why did it feel like there was some longing, some need to acknowledge the woman in him... her? The fog, the music, the spirals, all the feelings he had been having, James could hardly think. Maybe he should think less. Being a girl sounded fun, it's just a character after all. And he needed to be sexy. "Wonderful choice young lady! Now, are you a dominatrix, a super-switch, or a bimbo slut?" Bimbo slut~ James giggled as the words echoed in her brain. She was a bit of a slut, now that she thought about it. It felt odd to pick it, but why not for funsies? "Bimbo slut selected! Wonderful choice, just wonderful. Hold still while your stats are adjusted, and then we'll begin on giving you the perfect, sexy body you've always wanted."

The spirals filled her view and began increasing in speed. James was taken aback at first, but quickly felt oddly calm and receptive to that sultry voice.

"Physique +1, Physique +1, Physique +1." James felt wonderful, like every ache and blemish in his body had faded away.

"Wisdom -1, Wisdom -1." Thinking was fuzzy, but Jamella felt so content she didn't care.

"Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1. Charisma +1." Jamella gasped as visions of sexy men, pecs and abs and juicy, throbbing cocks filled her mind. A desperate heat filled her, and she began touching her groin against her will to try and ease it.

"IQ -1." She moaned, feeling light.

"IQ-1." Empty. She was so, wonderfully empty.

"IQ -1." This was like, so much funsies! She didn't know what was going on, but everything felt so nice~

"IQ -1. Congratulations Ella, you now have the 'Bimbo Slut' build."

Ella giggled absently. Thinking was like, so hard, and she felt like, so hard~. The fun spirals had disappeared... But the nice lady was talking to her again! With great effort, she listened in. "Now that your mental changes are complete, it's time for the physical changes!" Ella rubbed her thighs together and cheered in excitement. She couldn't wait to have more fun! "Unless you choose so now, the process will be au-to-ma-tic [...why was she using such big words?]. You can choose to take over at any time, or wait until the end and adjust as you please [...please. That word felt funny in her brain]".

"No user input detected. Body adjustment commencing."

A nice shiver went through Ella's body as she felt her headset warm against her face. Looking at the boring young man she'd begun to customize (her reflection, of course), she couldn't wait to begin! She sighed happily as waves of pretty silver hair drifted into her view and cascaded down her back. It felt especially nice against her smooth, soft skin, and she couldn't help but gently shake her head to watch it sway. A cool feeling brought her attention to her face, and the alluring amethyst eyes now set in it. Her face itself became much more elegant [but cutesy, too!], and she puckered her lips as a lovely pressure made them swell and bulge out, giving her a sexy and kissable pout [the boys'll love this look! boys~]. She felt herself shrink a few centimeters, gulping as her Adam's apple disappeared into her body. In fact, her whole body had become even more slender, with narrow shoulders, adorably small hands [pretty purple nails!], and a tiny little waist. She gasped, then clasped her hands over her mouth in delight. Her voice was so high and cutesy! She couldn't stop herself from giving out tiny, high-pitched giggles, just to hear how cute she was!

"Basic body structure altered. Adjusting outfit in preparation for primary and secondary sexual characteristics."

Ella ooh'ed appreciatively as a stream of sparkles enveloped her body. And when they disappeared, she squealed in delight! Her drab t-shirt and denim shorts were gone! In their place was a beautiful silver mini-dress that shimmered like starlight when she moved. She frowned in vexation, though. The plunging chest and shoulder-less design was very pretty, but her chest was flat! [shouldn't I have tiddies? The boys won't like me like this...] And the way it clung to her waist and hips would have been sexy, but as it was there was barely any difference between them! Her ass wasn't nearly big enough to justify how the dress cut off barely past it, and with how tight the fabric was Ella could see how achingly hard she was [wait, why do I have a cock? I'm supposed to get cock! In my mouth, in my ass, in my tight little pussy~]. It wasn't right!

"Thank you for your patience sweetie. Optimal figure calculated. Prepare for adjustment of sexual characteristics."

Ella let out a moan as a wave of heat and pleasure washed over her. With how horny she was she could barely keep her eyes open, but she knew she wanted to watch herself become the sexy little [cum] slut she was meant to be [I want it... I want to be~]. The heat settled in her hips, her ass, and her chest, and she moaned again as the changes begun.

Her nipples grew first, more than doubling in size and stiffening through the soft fabric of her dress. Tentatively touching them induced a gasp of pleasure [so nice~] and sent her rocking backwards. The motion made her giggle, because in that time she'd grown a cute pair of B-cup breasts that jiggled when she rocked. Jiggle makes me giggle. I like giggling. I like jiggling. Ella nodded thoughtfully to herself, feeling very wise. Her boobies grew to C-cups. She jiggled some more. She giggled some more.

A tightness around her hips distracted Ella from her tiddies. They were growing! She groaned as fabric and flesh tightened around them, too euphoric to feel pain. Sliding her hands from her waist to her hips made her squeal happily. She had such a sexy hourglass figure, she knew any girl worth her money would be jealous [and the boys would wanna hold me and squeeze me and fuck me raw]. Thighs thickening dramatically in response to her growth, she slapped her ass in impatience. Why won't it get bigger already!

But get bigger it did, swelling out in response to her touch. She fell forward as sheer pleasure blanketed her mind and weakened her knees. Squishing her boobies against the ground made her feel even nicer, until she was panting and moaning for somebody to help, to hit her again and make her bigger~

A slap landed on her booty, and she groaned in delight as it and her thighs swelled again. More. More! I NEED MORE! She moaned in ecstasy as blow after blow landed, making her swell and grow and grow and swell and feel so gooooood! Her tits inflated to D, then E-cups [good for the boys. I can jiggle so well for them~]. Her hips widened and thighs thickened, until she looked ridiculously large compared to her waist [ridicu... ridic... really, really sexy...] And her ass kept growing, and growing, and growing and growing and growing and growing! Tighter! Around my cock! Cock... I... oh~ Too... too... much! Too much! I'm~ I'm!

OooOOoOoOOooOoOoooOOOOOHHH~

Ella screamed in delight as she came, just cumming and cumming and cumming her tiny little brain out.

"Wisdom -1. IQ -1. Charisma +1. Charisma +1."

She was desperate, humping against the ground as the flow of cum abated from her cock. Everything she had been was flowing out of her messy stupid brain, and everything that she should be was coming in. Boys... Cock... Need fuck... Breed~ I'm such a dumb little cum slut~ She giggled to herself.

"Final adjustment required."

Ella stood up shakily, the bottom of her dress a cum-soaked mess. She squealed with delight as the mental fog settled even tighter and she felt an intense heat in her groin. She could see the tops of nipples trying to break free from her dress, and could feel the air drift over her ass, which had mostly escaped the fabric in her growth. So sexy. Hehe~ Boy can take me~ Don't even need dress off~ Thinking hard... Her ass and hips had pulled up so much fabric that her cock was visible now, deflating and still leaking from her orgasm, but she gasped in pleasure as it began rising up again. And, as she felt something long and hard brush her booty [cock? Boys? Fuck?].

A pressure like hands on her shoulders forced her to her knees, and she whimpered in desire as she felt an unseen cock touch her cheek. At the same time, something began intensely stimulating her own. She reflexively opened her mouth in a moan, but was cut off as she felt the cock shove inside [Feels~ Feels!].

All thought stopped.

Her mind was blank, full of pleasure and desire and happiness. Her cock felt good like it never had before, and the dick in her mouth tasted wonderful~ This was what Ella was made for, what she was meant to be. Feeling good, feeling sexy, feeling a pleasant emptiness that could only be filled with cock. Her haze reached a crescendo. Dimly she was aware of her own cries of ecstasy, muffled by the cock fucking her mouth and mind, as she came harder than she even had before. And as she came, her dick shrunk with each spurt until it went inside her [inside me!]. The cock withdrew from her mouth, filling her with a desperate longing. Emma moaned for her unseen hero, then gasped as she felt him once more. And blinked in surprise as the pretty meadow and her sexy reflection disappeared.

She was kneeling on the floor of an unfamiliar room. Shaking off a little of her confusion [don't need know much anyways...], she gasped as the tell-tale smell of pre-cum filled her nose. There was a man standing in front of her!

Sandy-blonde hair. Body like a surfer hunk! Naked. With a massive, sexy cock, dripping with her saliva and it's own juices. Ella moaned in desire, falling on all fours. Visibly trembling with lust, he tenderly cupped her cheek and slowly moved behind her.

Touching her with his [cock!].

Ever so gently, on the edge of her [...pussy!!!!]

He rammed inside her, and she screamed as an absolute feeling of rightness, of sexiness and pleasure and single-minded happiness rushed through her [MORE! HARDER! COCKKKK~]. Riding his dick she felt herself go into a trance, with nothing, absolutely nothing, disturbing her feelings. Ever. This was right. Ella moaned and surrendered to herself, drifting away on her lover's cock and mindless pleasure.

[haleswallows]

A wee gift for @little-dreams-of-life based on a prompt from the HxH server. Thank you for the inspiration <3

Timothy Drake is home alone. The Drake Manor is big and quiet around him. He fills it with noise.

This isn’t new or exciting. Tim is home alone a lot. What is new is the crate a FedEx employee insisted on carrying inside when Tim answered the door. The guy asks for an adult to sign for the package, but Tim just stares at him. Tim signs for the thing.

There’s a worried glance tossed in his direction as the courier leaves. But Tim shrugs it off like all the others and closes the door, then does up the locks and security system like he was shown.

Tim is home alone and he goes back to his homework without a second thought to the crate. He fills the quiet house with his own noise. When he needs a break, he skateboards down the hallways. The skate park is better, and Tim thinks about checking the weather report to see if it’ll be nice enough to go after school tomorrow.

Tonight is supposed to be clear. Probably a good night for birdwatching.

He pauses at the top of the stairs, one foot on the floor and the other on the deck, idly kicking it forwards and back. There’s a school field trip soon. Tim won’t be going – there’s no one home to sign his permission slip. If anything, he realizes, it’d be a great day to spend at the park. Even though he really wants to go on the field trip too. There’s nothing to be done about it. He resolves to make the day as good as it can be despite the loneliness that sits like gargoyle on his chest.

The crate sits innocently in the Entrance Hall. Tim peers down at it from the top of the stairs. He purposefully lets his DCs slap loudly on the hardwood of the steps as he gallops down.

There’s no note on the outside. Tim crouches down to look it over, but most of the markings are just shipping labels like “FRAGILE” and “THIS WAY UP – DO NOT TURN”. He doesn’t recognize the consignor address. Last he knew, Jack and Janet Drake were in Cambodia and the crate is from Ireland. But he is familiar with his mother’s handwriting on the Customs manifest in the outside pouch, so at least he can assume it hasn’t been shipped to Drake Manor as a type of postal assault.

The top is nailed down and Tim thinks of the hammer in the groundskeeper’s shed. It takes him only moments to find, but takes almost an hour to prise it open. He’s sweating and annoyed when he finally slides the top off.

Anti-climatically, he’s greeted with packing peanuts. 

Rooting around in the offending Styrofoam unearths a folded note – also written in his mother’s hand. The note is definitely not addressed to Tim, so he sets it aside then continues digging. Tim slowly unearths his parents’ newest relic collectibles, like his very own archeological dig. It’s all the same-old-same-old, old stuff and whatever his parents think is worthy of purchasing. Ceremonial relics, cultural artifacts, ceramic vases and bowls and small votives. There’s one odd wood carving that looks like something he’d have to make in art class.

Nestled in the bottom of a crate is a small wooden box, polished to a gleaming deep brown. The brass hardware stands out against the dark burnish. Tim turns it over in his hands and admires it, appreciating the way it fits neatly in his palm. It’s quite high quality, even Tim can see that. But of course, the box is only an accessory to its contents. There was a fleeting consideration to shake it, but Tim stamped down on the urge. Afterall, whatever was inside was an antique, if not ancient.

Tim puzzles over the small metal figurine inside. The purple velvet lining makes the pewter look like silver. But Tim has no clue what the shape is or what it represents. He squints at it in the waning afternoon light of the hall. The pronged circle attached to a wide rectangle vaguely resembles an ancient depiction of a human, if humans had horns. Or maybe the circle is a torso and the prongs artistic rendition of limbs? The prong is flared, almost like it has a crown.

There's a leather throng looped through the head. Tim thinks it's ugly and wonders what type of person would wear it. Sometimes Mother wore the ancient jewelry they collected, but this wasn't to her usual taste. Thus there must be something culturally important about it.

A mystery. Tim likes those. He likes solving things, he likes worrying his mind over pieces that don't fit until they do. Afterall, it's how he figured out Batman’s and both Robins’ identities and started birdwatching.

He pushes to his feet and jogs up the stairs. The computer in his dad's office has an internet connection. No one ever notices Tim using it. The housekeeper won't be around until tomorrow when he's at school. She won't suspect a thing as long as he turns it off and doesn't make a mess.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Tim trips over his abandoned skateboard. In the moment between losing his balance and hitting the ground, Tim thinks “oh crap” and prepares mentally for impact. Tim is no stranger to the fickle ways of gravity. You don't learn to skateboard without becoming the proud owner of scars and bruises. Tim automatically outstretches his hands to catch his fall

The strange pendant, still clutched in his hand, catches the soft meaty flesh of his palm. Tim hisses in pain, knee smarting. Gathers himself to sit cross legged and kicks the skateboard, annoyed at himself. He carefully uncurls his fingers, then gulps at the large gash on his hand. 

Oh god, Tim thinks while blinking at the deep cut. That definitely needs stitches. Oh shit, who can he call to get stitches? Who can take him? Tim glances around himself as if expecting someone to appear, to come running at the sound of his fall, to coo over his cut. 

A cold feeling fills his belly. Stupid. Tim knows there's no one there to help. But still he looked. Stupid.

Blood drips onto his jeans. He needs to get up, find a first aid kit. Skating is going to suck like this. He blinks back tears.

The light in the hallways shifts, darkens. It's getting late. He really needs to get up. With a sigh, Tim scolds himself then pushes to his feet, hurt hand cradled to his chest. But as he stands, the light continues to ebb away, darkness swirling around him. Tim freezes. The air pressure shifts and Tim shivers in the sudden chill.

“I am Fright Knight, Lord of Fear and the Spirit of All Hallows's Eve. Who dares summon me?” a voice rumbles, echoes, rings through the hallways, deep and haughty. Tim whirls towards it, hands halfway to covering his ears.

And nearly trips again on his skateboard. A man in a pure black suit of armor, glowing a menacing green, floats half a foot over the ground. Tim can't see the man's face as he towers over him, but the green glowing eyes bore into him.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?” Tim snaps. Ok, dumb move probably. But what else is Tim going to do? He's twelve and home alone.

The suit of armor tilts its head. Oh right, duh, Tim. It answered that.

“Right, Fright Knight, summoned. Was it this?” He shows the knight his hand and thoroughly bloodied pendant. They both stare at his hand. A quiet plip-plip of blood dripping onto the floor accentuates the quiet.

“Where are your guardians?”

“Not home.” Tim isn’t an idiot. He knows better than to tell people his parents are out of the country. Or that he’s home alone.

“When will they return home?”

Tim stares at the floating suit of armor for a long time. There’s an impression it is squinting at him. He shrugs.

Plip-plip goes his hand.

(Remainder of the fic on ao3!)

[chimericmacandcheese]

bnuuy

[genderqueerdykes]

Bigots do know what neopronouns, non human genders etc are even if they're not in community with us. They are constantly making a mockery of these things. it doesn't mean it's their fault just that they're extra vulnerable. But the idea that people don't know these things unless they're part of the community is simply not true

it's an extremely small handful of bigots who do know what these things are. what i'm trying to get across is that the queerphobes in your life that have the ability to make change or harm you don't know what a neopronoun is. your transphobic father, grandma, boss, coworker, senator, mayor, landlord, postal carrier, neighbor, etc. have no clue what these things are. they are passing laws and abusing queer people that they think are faggots, trannies and dykes. that's it. sure there are those of us who speak up about these things to people who are uninformed, but the vast majority of bigots have no clue what these things are. internet trolls are a very small portion of the number of bigots out there.

when i get discriminated against, i get called a faggot, tranny, or dyke. nobody cares about the fact that i'm bigender, genderfluid, genderqueer, non binary, etc. to them, i'm a faggot- i'm an effeminate gay man. or i'm a dyke, a butch woman. i'm a tranny- i was clocked as a trans woman. that's it. the amount of bigots who know what microlabels are is very, very small. how else would they know what these things are if not for exposure to the community? people who are xenogender don't come out about it to strangers for fear of judgment. people who use pronouns other than he, she, they or it never tell others their pronouns for fear of judgment.

bigots don't even know what a femme lesbian is. bigots don't even know what trans men are. most queerphobic people do not even know what a trans man is. i need you to stop and think about people in your irl life. not chronically online people like you and me. i'm talking about people who have never once in their life ever entered a queer space EVER. in their entire lives. think about this.

when you come out as a trans man to people outside of the queer community, they will dead ass assume you're a trans woman. they will. the average person has no clue what a trans man is. i have had to literally fight tooth and nail to get people to understand that people can be female to male. like i am a trans woman but it drives me insane because trans man is my primary identity alongside genderqueer. i have to literally tell people that female to male, transmasculine and trans male people exist like. if the average person cannot wrap their head around the fact that "Trans" does not always mean trans woman, do you really, genuinely think that they're out here knowing or caring about nonhuman genders?

yes, there are bigots out there who know these things exist. i'm not saying they don't, but what i'm saying is that people with these identities are not the reason why the entire queer community is mocked and blamed. you missed the point there- the point is that micro labels are not the reason why the queer community is treated like shit, because the average queerphobe is not targeting micro labels like nonhuman genders. it's not about who's more vulnerable. that's not the issue, here. it's about how the average bigot doesn't know ANYTHING about the queer community at all. even the ones who are familiar with these terms have no idea what they mean.

that's the entire point. hope that clears it up.

[lou-struck]

A Merry Mix Up

Shinsuke Kita x reader

W.C. 1.7k

~Your spirits were dampened until a little postal mixup brings a bit of holiday cheer to your door. 

A/n: Sorry about the delay on this one guys, I've been hit with a bit of that seasonal sickness and had to slow down for a bit.

The Holidays should fill you with nostalgic joy and anticipation as you travel back to your hometown for a metaphorical sleigh ride down memory lane with your friends and family. 

But this year is different. 

Between a surplus of career obligations and a limited supply of overpriced plane tickets that would cost you both an arm and a leg, you had to make the heartbreaking decision to forgo your yearly travel and spend Christmas alone within the walls of your little apartment. 

The realization that you will be completely and utterly alone this Christmas has hit you hard, but you have been trying to distract yourself from the festering loneliness.

Your television screen plays a never-ending stream of Christmas movies, and you have been doing your best to spend time with the new friends you have made in your new city. But it's hard; your heart aches for home and the comforts of tradition.

Despite the melancholy homesickness that you have been trying, and failing, to ignore. There are a few things you can look forward to. You do have a few things to look forward to; your loved ones have sent you Christmas presents in the mail that you are not allowed to open until the morning of the 25th.

Finding each new package at your front door has been a gift that keeps on giving, but frankly, it is a miracle you haven't peeked in them yet. To stop yourself from ruining the only surprise the season has in store for you, you have taken each package from your little welcome mat and tucking it into your coat closet so they are out of sight and out of mind. 

Now, with little room left in the closet for anything else, you distract yourself with yet another Christmas movie; a bit bored with the made-for-TV plot and less-than-Oscar-winning acting, you find yourself nodding off.

Just before you shut your eyes and succumb to a long nap that would definitely ruin your sleep schedule, you hear a polite knocking on the other side of your front door. The small sound is enough to pull your bored self from the couch and creep to the door in your obnoxiously fluffy slipper socks. 

Due to your landlord's frugalness, your chilled door knob jiggles dramatically the moment you make contact with it, but it stays on as you give it a light twist and open the door expecting to find yet another delivery person on the other side. 

Instead, you find a pair of familiar-looking soft brown eyes and black and grey two-toned hair. A large brown box is tucked comfortably under his arm, and you try to rember when it was that you have seen this beautiful man before. 

"Can I help you?" You say with an air of caution one develops from watching too many true crime documentaries while living alone. Your hand is still gripping the doorknob in case you have to shut it quickly in the man's face. 

He blinks and gives you a soft, embarrassed smile. "Oh, right, my apologies. Hello, I live in the building; I'm looking for a Y/N; I believe we had a mixup with our packages."

He holds out a box to you and you can tell by the messy scrawl on the label that it is another early Christmas gift from one of your best friends back home. Just seeing the package brings a longing smile to your lips. "Thank you," you say, taking the box excitedly. "So you think that one of yours was delivered to me instead?"

He smiles and reaches into the maroon pocket of what looks to be a high school alumni jacket, pulling out a phone. "I'll admit, I'm not the best when it comes to technology, but I believe one of my packages was delivered to your door by mistake." He holds out his phone for you to take, and you notice that his device, while dated, is remarkably well taken care of. His screen is completely without cracks or finger smudges, giving you a clear photo sent to him by the post. 

Sure enough, you see as clear as day that his package was dropped on your cute little doormat. 

"You're right," you say, not wanting to leave the man out in the hall; you open your door a bit wider. "Come on in and I'll grab your box."

"Thank you, I apologize for the inconvenience," he says, stepping hesitantly across your threshold.

"It's not your fault," you reply, thankful that you had just deep-cleaned your living space out of sheer boredom just the other day. But you have a feeling that even if you led him into a pigsty, he wouldn't say anything about it. 

You get to your makeshift gift closet and grab the most recent package from the pile. Sure enough, you weren't paying attention and completely missed the very obvious 'Shinsuke Kita' printed on the label.

"I am so sorry; I can't believe I missed it when I brought it inside." you apologize, handing the box to him as if it were made of glass. "Please don't think I'm that neighbor who steals packages."

A soft laugh bubbles to the surface, setting his eyes alight. "I believe you, I can only imagine how overworked postal workers are this time of year. But I really needed to get my hands on this." The way he looks down at the package in his hands reminds you of yourself.

His expression is filled with longing, with love. 

Before you know it, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself asking him a question. "Can I ask what's inside?"

He nods and sets the box down on your kitchen table. "I think you would understand a bit more if I showed you instead. May I?"

You nod as he uses the sharp side of his housekey to split the lid of the box open. To your astonishment, it is filled to the brim with Christmas cookies; even through the simple packaging and the mouthwateringly sweet scent that fills your apartment, you can tell that these are not just homemade but have been baked fresh and overnighted from somewhere. 

"Wow, I can see why you wanted to find those. "You laugh, admiring the rustic uniformity of the sweets. "Who are they from?"

"My grandmother," he says softly. "When the holidays come, she makes enough cookies to feed an army. I never took the time to appreciate how much it meant to me until now. But now that I'm on my own, I understand what a treasure it is to taste a loved one's cooking during the holidays."

"You can't go home for Christmas?" you ask, your brow furrowing as your heart begins to feel that familiar ache. 

He shakes his head, "Not this year; I'm currently getting my masters in agricultural management so I can take over my family's rice paddy. The program is expensive, so getting a ticket home this year was out of my budget."

"I know how you feel," you say solemnly, "I'm in a similar position, actually. Travel is too expensive, and  I'm really missing home right now."

His frown falters as he takes in your features, the kindness in his gaze burns your skin like a flame as he holds out a cookie to you. "Well then, it looks like you need a little taste of home this year too."

"I couldn't," you say politely, although it is obvious you want to try one. "These are for you."

The skin around his eyes crinkles with his smile, "Please, take one. My grandmother always says that her cookies taste better when they are shared."

"Well, I can't argue with that logic," you chuckle, taking a cookie from his outstretched hand; as your fingers brush, you feel an almost electric sensation shoot down your spine. 

"Merry Christmas," he says, grabbing another cookie from his box and taking a bite.

You follow suit, and the moment you bite down on the soft pasty, your mind is blown. 

Oh my god

What the hell is in these cookies that make them taste so good?

Your heart fills with love as the flavors dance on your tongue. "Wow."

"They're delicious, aren't they?" he hums, his eyes full of emotion as he takes another bite of this life-changing cookie. "It's silly, but it makes me want to actually get into the Christmas spirit. I haven't felt the need until now."

"I know what you mean," you say looking around your apartment, your lack of decorations more evident than usual. Not even your wall calendar is festive. "Now I kinda want to do something, maybe get a little tree to set up."

"A tree would look nice over there by the window," he offers helpfully. 

And although you just met this man, you can't help but wonder if the magic of Christmas has managed to bring you too lonely souls together for the holiday.

Clenching your fists into tight little balls, you look up at the man boldly. "Would you…Would you want to maybe go and do something christmassy? You know, with me?

Delight lights up his face as he nods eagerly, "I would. Actually, I am feeling inspired. Would you be interested in possibly picking out a Christmas tree with me?"

"I'd like that," you breathe, not believing your luck. People always say that if you want to meet someone, you'd have to leave the comfort of your home, but this date has come right to you.

"I actually heard about a great tree lot not too far from here, we could leave in twenty minutes or so if that works with you?"

"That would be great. Let me just get my coat, and I'll meet you downstairs."

He grabs the cookie box off the counter but removes a few more cookies, leaving them on the table for you. "Well then, I'll see you soon, Y/n." The way he says your name is far sweeter than the cookies and you find yourself weak in the knees as he steps out into the hallway and disappears, leaving you wondering what in the world just happened.

Your heart thumps wildly as you scurry about your apartment with newfound holiday cheer as you get ready for the first of many seasonal dates with your handsome neighbor.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[realdirtfacts]

Selling your merch and shipping from home with Fourthwall

I've been selling @shiftythrifting Junk Boxes - our curated secondhand mystery boxes - since 2017 using different platforms with different levels of success. I moved to Fourthwall in 2022 and my teeny tiny business has only grown since then! FW is free to use and you get ALL the money from your home sales save for the credit card processing fees. I don't miss the fee structure from our previous hosts, so I thought I'd write up a little guide on how easy it is to get started.

Things you need to start shipping from home:

A scale, and it doesn't need to be an expensive or large one! Even a kitchen scale works for small stuff.

Packaging and packing materials for the product(s) you're selling.

Access to a post office and/or a printer.

Funds set aside for postage. You'll get this money back with your Fourthwall payout when the month rolls over.

(Optional but handy) A ShipStation account.

Make yourself a store if you haven't already. You can sell print on demand, digital stuff, and your own inventory in one place but today we're talking about selling from home, so add a product and pick the middle option.

You can customize everything about your product on this page, from adding size and color variations, the materials used to make it, size charts, inventory, and more. Get an accurate weight of what you're selling in its packaging and add that here. Hit save and you have your first listing. Gonna be selling a variety of products? You can duplicate the listing with the meatball menu! Change the name, photos, and anything else that needs changing and have your second listing up in a couple minutes.

Didi protip: I like to put people's reviews right in the listing. Lots of photos help sell your product, but there's nothing like a positive review from fans!

Fourthwall's Collections feature lets me put my Junk Boxes in their own little section where I can set them to hidden or mark them sold out if I get sick or am on vacation. This lets me easily turn the self-fulfilled part of my store off while folks can still purchase print on demand and digital stuff and sign up for memberships.

Didi protip: If you are in the US, the US postal service will pick up your outgoing packages free of charge on any regular mail day. Just set up a pickup on USPS.com!

When you've made your first sale, you can either make the label yourself or connect directly to ShipStation through Fourthwall's app integration. That's brand new and I love it so far. My labels pop up in ShipStation about 24 hours after a purchase, giving people a little window of time to adjust their order or make changes before I ship it.

At that point, all that's left is handing it off to the postal carrier of your choice! Boom, you're done!

A final note from me, I moved ShopShifty to Fourthwall so I could have one address for ALL my merch instead of splitting it between Patreon, a print-on-demand store, and the Junk Box store. It's proven to be the best choice I've made in years and has saved me a ton of money in marketplace fees, Paypal's cut, and web hosting charges. This has genuinely been the easiest way to sell my merch!

[gendercensus]

hiya! i had a look on your shop website (and bought some buttons and a zine, very excited they look very cool!) and couldn't see anything, so I'm just wondering, how obvious is it from the outside of the packaging that the product is (for want of better phrasing) queer-related? Like, does it say 'gender census' on the outside, does the product description on any customs stuff mention anything? It doesn't concern me these days but it did used to, so I'm curious in case it would be useful info for somebody else

There's nothing on the outside of the parcel/envelope indicating queer/nonbinary anything, and on the customs labels I put un-detailed things like "booklet" and "gloves" and "buttons" - just to keep it really simple, because I feel like overseas customs people shouldn't be expected to know or care what a zine is!

It hadn't occurred to me that people might need postal packaging to be discrete, but it also hadn't occurred to me to put "Gender Census" or any branding on the outside of the parcel, so that's alright then. :)

(Thank you for buying the zine and buttons!)

[ The shop that we're talking about ]