#wednesday quotes for work

[bizionictechnologies]

Today's business quote by Philip Kotler really got me thinking.

Selling is all about satisfying a customer's need, while marketing is about understanding and figuring out that need in the first place. Let's focus on building strong relationships with our customers and delivering value that truly satisfies their needs.

@philipkotler

[sxphr]

Wednesday: I've never had a best friend before.

Enid: I'll be your best friend!

Wednesday:

Wednesday: I've never had a girlfriend before.

[incorrect-multiverse]

Enid: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited.

Wednesday: If?

Eugene: Great, the only party I’ve ever been invited to and she might not even die.

[goosethepumpkin]

Yoko: PUT YOUR FUCKING SEATBELTS ON! Enid: WE'RE TRYING! Bianca: WHY ARE THE SEATBELT BUCKLES CRISSCROSSED?! Wednesday: This is why we should have taken the family hearse. Yoko: AND LET YOU GUYS MAKE OUT IN THE BACK?! Wednesday: No we were not going to 'suck face' in the back of the hearse, that would be horrendous. Enid, whispering to Wednesday: we were totally going to make out weren't we? Wednesday: Affirmative cara mia.

[comingupforblair]

Yoko: Do anything fun last night?

Wednesday: Enid and I spent the evening listening to songs about spite, vengeance and the sweet catharsis of exposing your enemies’ weakness for all to see and standing victorious over their defeated body, letting everyone see how you have humiliated them.

Yoko: What is she talking about?

Enid: We spent the night listening to my Taylor Swift records.

[amandamadeathing]

Social media post summarizing the relationship between Crosshair and Wrecker.

[prefer-to-be-vilified]

Enid: Some people perceive you as somewhat…

Wednesday: Tempestuous?

Enid: Heinous bitch, is the term used most often.

[jakascoo]

Kara: I taught the dog a new trick. throws ball Fetch! Dog: Just stands there. Jason: He didn’t do it. Kara: I taught him to ignore social conventions and think for himself.

[exposingmyveins]

i used to love the sound of my bare feet slapping the sidewalk. i would slam them down as hard as i could to hear that pitter patter of my skin coming into contact with the concrete

today i got peeved because water splashed on my shoe while i washed the backyard furniture

i think of her often, that little girl unafraid to skin a knee or stub a toe or get her hands dirty because she was just having fun. she was just living

when did it get so serious?

v. || exposingmyveins

[enigma-the-mysterious]

WIP Wednesday: 31/7/24

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RRR has consumed my brain so all recent WIPs are from there. Almost the same as last week. I managed to combine "Ram's thoughts as he carries Bheem away" with another draft like I said I would. I also added a new work to my WIP list. The plot bunnies are multiplying :p

1. Bheem's thoughts after the betrayal: What it says on the tin. Angst, angst, angst and more angst. There isn't enough Bheem trauma fics in the fandom and I am here to fix that

2. Aftermath of Bheem's arrest: Fucktons of angst and Ram being emo and self destructive as usual

3. Inspired: Bheem still has nightmares about the events at Delhi. He and Ram talk. Angst with comfort

4. Chocolate: Dosti era. Ram introduces Bheem to chocolate :D :D :D Pure, self indulgent fluff

5. Ram's guilt about the flogging: What it says on the tin. Post movie. Angst with comfort

Snippet from WIP 5.

"I should have protected you."

"You did."

"No," Ram snarled, feral, vicious. "I did not."

Bheem smiled, in the same serene way he had on the night when he trusted his most carefully guarded secret with the wrong person. "Yes, you did. I know it in my heart. When you told me to kneel, that was not actually an order, was it? It was a plea from you. You took no pleasure from my torture, did you, anna?"

Ram remained silent. He wanted to deny the truth in Bheem's words, for every word that he spoke felt like it was a word closer to Bheem spelling out his forgiveness, his absolution, his mercy for Ram and Ram hated that.

But he could not do it, not anymore. In Delhi, there were too many lies and secrets between them, half truths that ripped them apart and frayed the bond Ram had once thought was holy. So Ram was tired. He was so fucking tired.

"Tell me, anna," Bheem went on, clasping his hands tighter over Ram's fists, as if he feared that Ram would crumble into dust otherwise. Maybe he would. Six months of torture at the hands of the British and this was what would finally break him. The quiet strength and the tender kindness of his Bheema. How ironic and fitting at the same time.

"Tell me all the ways you protected me, saved me, kept my weary heart beating through the torture."

Ram choked on a sob. "I… I can't."

"Yes, you can. You can do this for me, your tammudu, right anna?"

His lips trembled. Memories flooded unbidden. The weight of Catherine's whip in his hand. The strain on his arm as he ripped out chunks of his dearest friend's flesh. The strength of Bheem's song, the stubborn defiance in his eyes, the fire directed at him, the pride in his eyes, his utter refusal to kneel. The warmth of Bheem's blood on his face. God, there had been so much blood. Blood rolling down his back, blood drenching his white dhoti, blood pooled at his feet, blood soaking the holy soil.

Bheem's body a dead weight on his shoulder.

A warm mist descended over his vision.

Dammit, how was he supposed to form words in such a state?

"I… I tried, Bheema," he finally said, swallowing another fit of sobs. "I tried so damn hard, to make it easy for you. But… but I failed."

Bheem raised both their hands and placed it over his chest. His broad, solid, moving chest.

"You didn't," he said and now his voice sounded strained too. "My heart still beats. My life still thrums in my veins, anna. If it was not for you, I would be dead. If it was any white officer, I would be dead. If it was anyone else, I would be dead at that whipping post."

There was a long silence, punctuated only by Ram's loud exhales.

"Tell me."

[beautyofattolia]

Xavier: I sleep with a bow under my pillow.

Bianca: I sleep with a knife.

Tyler: Both of you are pathetic. 

Xavier: Oh yeah? What do you sleep with?

Tyler: Wednesday.

[unsaid-nevermore]

xavier: can you do me a weird favor without asking any questions??

rowan: isn’t that the bedrock upon which our friendship was founded?

[waviermylove]

*Parents’ Weekend*

Gomez: I'll speak French between your legs, Cara Mia~

Morticia, swooning: That's the most romantic thing I've ever been told, Mon Cher-

*later, in the quad*

Ajax, reminiscing: I was just picturing someone screaming "BONJOUR" at a penis.

Kent: SACRE BLEU MADEMOISELLE VAGINA HON HON HON TITTY CROISSANTS!

Xavier: TITTY CROISSANTS-

Wednesday: None of you cretins should ever be having sex.

Xavier: *pales* You- you don’t really mean that, do you Wednesday?

[scholarhect]

weirdly codependent with your dead-eyed cousin wednesday

[nie-narzekam]

Sir, I am commencing to have certain conceptual problems with the role of myself and my partner in these shenanigans.

Neil Gaiman, “Neverwhere”

[mx-myth]

Many thanks to @omgpurplefattie! Reading your wip was *chef's kiss* I love horsegirl dfs. I was going to wait for WIP Wednesday but thank you giving me the opportunity to post earlier (and also for being the reason I started posting on ao3 again, your reblog tag about dfs and fdb wearing llh's zanzi really stuck with me). This is from my post-canon amnesia difang au:

“Niang!” A young man - practically still a boy, his high ponytail waving behind him - practically crashes through the front gate. “I’m home! I still haven’t-” Nausea swarms his head as he looks at him. When he had woken up on the banks of that river he hadn’t felt that anything was missing. The habits that were performed jerkily as he realised he didn’t know what he was doing were ignored. But the sight of this young man now - this boy, in his light blue robes with golden detailing, with a matching set of huwan and a belt in a darker blue - carves too deeply inside him, shining a light on a deep, yawning maw of a cavity he didn’t know was there. The feeling only intensifies as the boy stops dead in his tracks, staring at him. His skin is several shades too pale to be healthy, the bones in his face too sharp even with the obvious baby fat still lingering, his eyes too bright in the way of a chronic insomniac. He knows the glint of it intimately; he’s already seen it too often in his own eyes. His voice is too high when he speaks, wavering and cracking right down the middle. “Lao-Di?” He stares at him more. Everything buzzes; he can hear every bird for three li, every person moving in the house, every vein pulsing blood in his body, and yet the only noise he can seem to focus on is the rabbit-fast beating of this boy’s heart. He can’t move as he stumbles towards him. The sword shards poke at him mercilessly as this boy falls to his knees beside him. “Lao-Di? Lao-Di?! What’s wrong, answer me!” He thrusts his palm into his face. He hadn’t even thought about putting internal energy into it, though the angry noise from Master He says that she absolutely thought he had. This confusing boy just catches his wrist and grips him like a lifeline. The terrified look on his face transforms into horror once he gets a good look at his palm. “Fang Duobing?” He asks roughly.