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hob28 · 1 year ago

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Advance Your Career with Our Advanced Tally Prime Course in Vasai-Virar

Introduction

Hello, aspiring accountants of Vasai-Virar! Are you ready to elevate your accounting skills and secure a promising future in finance? Our Advanced Tally Prime Course is designed specifically for students like you who are eager to deepen their knowledge and expertise. This course offers a perfect blend of theory and practical experience to ensure you excel in your career. Let’s explore why this course is the ideal step forward for you and how it can benefit your professional journey.

The Value of Tally Prime

Why Master Tally Prime?

Tally Prime isn’t just another accounting software—it's a powerful tool that simplifies financial management and boosts productivity. Here’s why mastering Tally Prime can significantly enhance your career:

User-Friendly Interface: Its intuitive design makes it accessible and easy to use.

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Expanding Career Opportunities

Proficiency in Tally Prime opens numerous career opportunities. As more businesses rely on Tally Prime for their accounting needs, your expertise will be in high demand, significantly boosting your employability.

Course Overview

Detailed Course Curriculum

Our Advanced Tally Prime Course covers all the essential aspects of advanced accounting. Here’s what you can expect:

Module 1: Advanced Accounting

Handling Complex Transactions: Learn to manage intricate financial transactions seamlessly.

Multi-Currency Accounting: Gain expertise in handling accounts across different currencies.

Bank Reconciliation: Master the process of reconciling bank statements with business accounts accurately.

Module 2: Inventory Management

Optimizing Inventory: Efficiently categorize and manage inventory.

Stock Movement Analysis: Get insights into stock movement and aging analysis.

Order Processing: Understand the entire order processing cycle, from purchase to sales orders.

Module 3: Taxation

Mastering GST: Dive deep into Goods and Services Tax (GST) and its applications.

Managing TDS: Learn about Tax Deducted at Source (TDS) and its compliance.

Filing Taxes: Gain hands-on experience in filing various tax returns using Tally Prime.

Module 4: Payroll Management

Detailed Employee Records: Maintain comprehensive employee records efficiently.

Processing Payroll: Master payroll processing, including detailed salary calculations and deductions.

Ensuring Compliance: Ensure compliance with statutory requirements related to employee compensation.

Flexible Learning Schedule

We understand the importance of balancing your studies with other commitments. Our course spans three months, with classes held thrice a week, offering a flexible schedule that fits into your busy life.

Why Our Course Stands Out

Experienced Instructors

Our instructors are seasoned professionals with extensive experience in Tally Prime. They bring real-world insights and practical knowledge into the classroom, making complex concepts easier to understand and apply.

Modern Learning Environment

Our training center in Vasai-Virar is equipped with state-of-the-art facilities. Each student has access to the latest version of Tally Prime and other essential tools, ensuring a conducive learning environment.

Hands-On Experience

We believe in learning by doing. Our course includes real-world projects and case studies, providing you with practical experience that goes beyond theoretical knowledge. This hands-on approach ensures you’re ready to tackle real business challenges confidently.

How This Course Will Benefit You

Mastering Advanced Skills

Enrolling in our Advanced Tally Prime Course will equip you with expertise in advanced accounting practices. This knowledge is crucial for handling complex financial scenarios and will give you an edge over others in the field.

Boosting Your Employability

With a certification recognized by industry leaders, your resume will stand out to potential employers. The practical skills and advanced knowledge you acquire will make you a valuable asset to any organization.

Building Confidence

Our course is designed to empower you. By the end of the course, you’ll have the confidence to handle advanced accounting tasks and the ability to apply your knowledge in real-world situations.

Enrollment Details

How to Enroll

Enrolling is easy! Visit our training center in Vasai-Virar or register online through our website. Our team is available to assist with any questions or concerns you might have about the enrollment process.

Affordable and Flexible Fees

We offer competitive pricing for our comprehensive training. Additionally, we provide flexible payment options to accommodate different financial situations, ensuring that cost is not a barrier to your education.

Conclusion

Investing in your education is the best decision you can make for your future. Our Advanced Tally Prime Course in Vasai-Virar is designed to equip you with the skills and confidence needed to excel in the accounting field. Don’t miss this opportunity to advance your career—enroll now and take the first step towards mastering Tally Prime.

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excellentcareerpoint · 2 years ago

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RS-CIT Course in jaipur

RS-CIT course provides comprehensive training in computer fundamentals and is designed to equip you with the necessary skills to excel in today's technology-driven world. With a strong emphasis on practical knowledge, the course covers a wide range of topics including computer basics, internet, and email, word processing, spreadsheets, and presentation software.

#RS-CIT Course #tally course #advance excel course #practical accounting course #Typing Course

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shy9-29 · 7 months ago

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loot drop or love drop? ⚡︎ l.hs

╰┈➤ pairing: lee heeseung x reader

╰┈➤ wc: 1.5k

╰┈➤ synopsis: Your boyfriend, who you had missed all day, had barely acknowledged your presence since you got home. All you had gotten was a muttered "hi baby, missed you" before he returned to his screen. Was his game seriously more important than his own girlfriend?

╰┈➤ genre: fluff, romance, gamer x girlfriend

╰┈➤ warnings: skin ship, pet names, literally it

masterlist / requests open

Arriving at your shared apartment, you couldn’t contain your excitement after a long day at work. Thoughts of Heeseung, his smile, and his warm embrace filled your mind.

You eagerly dropped your bag near the door and walked in silently, anticipating the wonderful moment of reuniting with your boyfriend. If one thing’s for sure, you missed him like crazy.

Heeseung's eyes were laser-focused on the screen, his fingers dancing across the keyboard in a blur, seemingly oblivious to your arrival.

The glow of the monitor illuminated his face, highlighting the contours of his jaw and casting a soft shadow beneath his intense gaze. It was obvious that he was immersed in the heat of the game, barely registering the world around him.

"Dude!" your boyfriend exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and wheeling his chair back from the desk. A hint of frustration tinged his voice as he spoke, "We almost died because of you!"

He let out a huff of annoyance, the veins in his forearms slightly more prominent as he clenched his fists in mid-air. His frustration was evident in his tense body language and the slight downturn of his lips.

It was clear that the game had tested his patience, as he let out a stream of hushed expletives, seemingly unaware that you were standing behind him, witnessing his moment of irritation.

You chuckled softly, amused by his dramatic reaction, and crept up behind him. With a playful tone, you wrapped your arms gently around his neck and whispered, attempting to surprise him. "Guess who?"

He startled at the sudden touch, his shoulders tensing for a brief moment before he turned his head towards you, surprise evident in his eyes. The initial shock quickly melted into a warm smile as he recognized your voice. "You scared me," he chuckled, tilting his head to nuzzle against your arm that was draped around his neck. "Hey, I missed you."

He smiles faintly as he feels your kiss on his forehead. Then, without much enthusiasm or greeting, he speaks to his mic, saying, "Oh, it's just y/n." The lack of excitement in his tone is palpable.

Your heart sank at his lukewarm response. It was as if you were an afterthought, a mere distraction from the main event of his gaming session. The way he casually dismissed your presence with a flat tone stung.

There was no warmth in his greeting, no indication of genuine happiness in seeing you. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just his focus on the game talking, but deep down, it still hurt.

Feeling impatient, you spent 30 minutes doing chores while waiting for your boyfriend to finish his game. You eventually poked your head into the room and asked with a hint of annoyance, "Are you done yet?"

Heeseung, still absorbed in his game, didn’t respond right away. After a few more moments, he finally glanced over at you and replied, “Almost done, just a few more minutes.” His tone was somewhat dismissive, as if your presence and patience had already been accounted for in his mental tally.

So you decided to distract yourself again by making some Galbae, aka pear juice, Heeseung’s favorite. 10 minutes went by and you practically waltz into the room, handing him a glass cup full of galbae.

Heeseung accepted the glass of galbae you had lovingly prepared for him, taking a grateful sip. "Thanks," he muttered, his attention still divided between his game and your gesture. Despite his brief moment of appreciation, his focus quickly returned to his game, as he continued his intense gaming session, seemingly undisturbed by your attempt to reclaim his attention.

Hours ticked by and Heeseung showed no signs of slowing down. He was completely engrossed in the game, his eyes glued to the screen as he engaged in battle after battle, his friends’ voices a constant backdrop to the action.

As the night wore on, you found yourself feeling increasingly neglected and frustrated, your attempts to engage with him falling on deaf ears as he remained absorbed in his digital world.

Frustration mounting, you crawled out of bed, grabbed the headphones from your boyfriend, silencing his game. "Sorry, boys, Heeseung has to go," you announced, cutting him off mid-game.

Before placing the headphones down, you caught snatches of his friends' laughter and jokes at his expense.

Heeseung’s eyes widened in disbelief as you snatched away his headphones, abruptly ending his gaming session. He tried to protest, but before he could say anything, you had already cut him off and bid farewell to his friends.

As you placed the headphones down, the sound of his friends' laughter and playful teasing filled the room, adding to his mounting embarrassment.

"What the hell, y/n," he exclaimed, frustration and annoyance etched on his face. "I was in the middle of something important."

You couldn’t help but tease him, your voice laced with a hint of playful sarcasm. "What could you be possibly doing right now that’s important than your own girlfriend?" The question hangs in the air as you wait for his response, still holding onto the headphones as you look at him.

Heeseung bristled at your sarcastic tone, obviously feeling defensive. He let out a huff of irritation, his eyes narrowed. "I was gaming with my friends," he retorted, his voice filled with annoyance. "It's important to me. We were in the middle of an intense match."

You sighed, feeling a mix of affection and frustration. He was like a little kid. "Hee... You've been playing for hours since I've been home. Do you know how much I just wanted to come home from work and spend time with you?” Your voice carried a hint of hurt and disappointment as you express your longing for his attention and company.

Heeseung was taken aback by your words, feeling a pang of guilt at the hurt in your voice. He hadn't realized how long he had been glued to his screen, completely immersing himself in his gaming world. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he immediately felt a wave of remorse wash over him.

"I... I didn’t mean to ignore you," he mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I got carried away in the game, I guess."

He looked up at you, his gaze softened with a hint of apology. “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to make you feel neglected. I guess I just got too caught up in the game and forgot how much time had passed.”

He took a deep breath and stood up from his chair, closing the distance between the two of you. He reached out and tentatively wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I should have been more mindful of spending time with you," he muttered, his voice filled with genuine regret. "You're way more important than any game, you know that, right?”

You melted into his embrace, feeling the sincerity in his words. It was reassuring to hear him acknowledge your importance in his life. He planted a tender kiss on the crown of your head, his grip on you tight.

After a moment, you broke the embrace and stepped back. You looked at him with slight amusement. "You know, if you had spent that time on me instead, I would’ve let you win the game," you teased, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Heiseung chuckled at your playful comment, a sheepish grin appearing on his face. He reached out and ruffled his hair, looking a bit sheepish. "Well, if I had known the prize was that good, I definitely would have chosen you over the game," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with affection.

He took a step closer to you, gently tugging on your wrist and pulling you back into his arms. "But seriously," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity, "I promise I'll spend more time with you, and less time glued to that stupid screen. I'd hate to miss out on any more moments with you."

A warm smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning into his embrace. "Apology accepted," you replied softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "But I'll hold you to that promise of spending more time together."

You gave him a playful poke on the stomach before adding, "And no more sacrificing me for the game, okay? I'm waaay more valuable than any win or any of those things you pick up in the games."

Heeseung couldn't help but chuckle at your apparent ignorance regarding video games. "It’s called a loot drop y/n," he explained in a patronizing tone.

You rolled your eyes, playfully sticking out your tongue in response. "Yeah, yeah, loot drop, I get it," you retorted, feigning annoyance. "But come on, a bunch of digital items or me? I think it's pretty obvious which one's more valuable."

Heeseung wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you closer and nuzzling his face into your hair. "I know, I know," he chuckled, surrendering to your point. "You’re priceless, more precious than any loot drop in the world. How could I possibly choose anything over that?"

Uploading 4 fanfics in a day witn a total of over 15k words is crazy (for me) | masterlist

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poisonsage808 · 4 months ago

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streak of bad luck

John Munch x Reader

He always got what he wanted and, to your sudden change of luck, it seemed he very much wanted you.

warnings: black cat reader, you’re so unlucky (sorry babes) past abusive relationship, lingering trauma, hurt/comfort, reader gets mugged, munch crashout, happy ending always

"A trial run?" You echoed.

"Yeah, y'know, that test people do to see if-"

"I know what a trial run is, John, I just..." know I'll fuck it up; know you'll hate it; know you'll hate me after. You swallow the doubt that creeps into your voice, wringing your fingers until he takes them and holds them to his chest. He always knows how to soothe you.

"Finish your thought, honey." He prompts softly, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm worried. I don't want you to get sick of me."

John laughs lightly, not trying to be cruel but you want to shrink away from the sound all the same. His arms come to collect you, keep you together and by his side. He kisses the top of your head hard, like he wants the affection to take root in your brain.

"That won't happen, baby, trust me. With my track record, you’ll be the one running for the hills.”

You gasp at his awful joke, especially knowing there’s truth to it, brows pulling together in unfathomable horror, “I would not!”

And that pleases him to hear, he kisses your cheek so sweetly you’ll have to go to the dentist for the toothache he singlehandedly caused.

“Then there’s no reason not to try, is there?”

Lips part but no argument follows, you’re genuinely stumped on a defense. Everything you might want to suggest suddenly crumbles on your tongue and instead tastes like a shared kitchen and minty sweet kisses goodnight. Besides, you know every reason you could throw at him would be batted away like he was a World Series champion. He always got what he wanted and, to your continuous change of luck with him, it seemed he very much wanted you.

You gnawed the inside of your cheek, hesitating for a moment longer, “You promise you’ll let me know if it’s not working for you?”

“Promise,” John holds his hand up like a boy scout yet keeping that air of sincerity to him, “I’ll always be honest with you.”

That was months ago. You lost track of how many on account of the fact you were keeping tally of the great number of fuck ups and inconveniences instead. Like washing a shirt that was supposed to go to the dry cleaners, like closing the door on his tie, like stepping on his expensive shoes— how could you be so clumsy with his attire, they’re only the most important things to him! Dumbly burning your hand and letting his coffee pot shatter on the ground, sending him into a brief panic. Ruining dinner because the recipe called for four teaspoons of spice and not tablespoons, practically inedible even for his tolerance. Making him late for work because you couldn’t find your keys and later realizing they were in your pocket the whole time, even though you swore you checked no less than fifty times. Forgetting to do stupid things like turning off the lights, cleaning one spot, the damn grocery list.

The worst was when you locked yourself out of the flat with the stove on. Your day was horrible and your brain was fried and you still aren’t quite clear on how it happened but with your never ending bad luck you aren’t shocked! He thinks it’s funny now but when he got a call it looked like someone was breaking into his apartment, he was scared out of his mind. It was the one time he hoped, prayed, you weren’t there. Throwing his car into park, crooked and half on the sidewalk, John ran over to where the officers stood next to you. They explained what you did, how you’d locked yourself out but your name wasn’t on the lease so they didn’t believe you. It was reasonable, wasn’t it?

His face switched comically fast when he saw the handcuffs around your wrists.

He sent you inside to spare you but you could hear through the door. He was loud when he was mad, his quick witted snarky profanities had nothing on the infinity train of insults he rammed into those uniforms. Shocked wasn’t strong enough, you were nearly fully convinced he was lying— at the very least embellishing as he’s prone to do— when he admitted he had a bit of a temper issue. Your heartbeat was louder still in your ears, a warning drum. You didn’t mean to flinch when John joined you inside, you didn’t mean to cry, you didn’t mean to back away, you didn’t mean for the apologies to fly out of your mouth the way they did. He looked pained when you held your arm out as if it could keep him from coming closer. Of course it did, because how could you not know he would always listen.

Every time you expect his wrath, prepared to receive it in any way it would come, he reaches for your shoulders so carefully that you wonder if you had the power to slow time. “Sweetheart,” he says in that tone you love and hate, the one that can’t forgive you because what could be there to forgive, so soft it makes you want to cry, “it was an accident.” And after eleven months exactly— oh look, you do remember— you think you’d get used to it, eventually it would sink in that John Munch is never going to hurt you in any conceivable way.

“What are you thinkin’ over there?”

You blink at yourself in the mirror, then at John leaning in the doorway. Ready and dressed for work, hair slicked back meticulously and suit pressed to perfection, he was devastatingly handsome. Maybe it was just the lost look in your eyes that made you feel less put together today, but he looked at you like he always did. Radiant. When your confidence was lacking, he lent you some of his because lord knows he has more than enough to spare.

“Did you know it’s been eleven months?” You ask, turning around to match his ease and lean on the counter, “Since we, well, y’know, not technically moved in together.”

Because you hadn’t, not really. A good portion of your stuff was here but you still went back to your apartment… once in a blue moon. In your absence you think a spider might’ve moved in.

John knew how to boil a frog. He put up with you living out of a suitcase for a week, if that, then put your clothes away in his dresser. He noted, not unkindly, that you were doing laundry frequently, maybe you should bring over more clothes. When work got busy and he ended up coming home later, he casually suggested moving over your hobbies so you wouldn’t be bored waiting for him. Did you know he really liked that painting you had in your apartment? So much so that he made a space for you to hang it up in his. He surprised you by stocking the fridge and pantry with things you, and only you, liked.

And he smiles, really smiles, because he absolutely did know that and isn’t it just so perfect that you brought it up!

“Not that I believe in cosmic signs but I do think that might be the universe trying to tell you somethin’, sweetheart. Quit wasting money on that place, you’re over here all the time now.”

“Not all the time,” you mumbled, averting your eyes as if looking for the last time you even thought about going there. ‘There’ and not ‘home’ because his place transformed into a shared one somewhere between all those disasters.

His careful steps closer are not unlike the ones he takes when he thinks you’re going to crack if he so much as looks at you wrong.

“Admit it,” he cages you against the counter, kissing the crown of your head, “trail run’s over. Time to move in. I can get off early today,” a kiss to your temple, “we’ll pack the rest of your stuff and drop off the notice,” your nose, “go out to celebrate?”

John always gave you space to say no, always made sure you knew he wouldn’t be mad if you did. However it was more of a question than he was willing to admit, you almost forgot that in his alluring cloud of confidence. His tone bled with hope because it’s not the first time he’s suggested it.

“I—” You huff, try to breathe air and not the infectious hope. Being pragmatic was proving to be a struggle, “I want to.”

He’s painfully patient, running a hand up and down your arm, “But?”

You swallow, “No buts… I want to. Let’s move in together.”

You thought it was just an expression, but his eyes sparkle at your agreement. Someone else might think he’d won the jackpot with the way he was beaming.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I mean, if you’re sure.”

You’re ass on the counter before you can blink. His mouth is on yours, sending a jolt of energy up your spine and it’s not from the taste of coffee! He’s sure, he’s so sure and he wants to show you how damn sure he is. You’re so dizzied by the passionate kiss that you forget what you even agreed to. John gets a little carried away, excitedly murmuring things he absolutely should not be before you both have to work.

“Baby!” You squeak as he pops the button on your pants, “We have to leave in—“ you take his watch off the counter and point the proof at him, “15 minutes!”

Humming, he nods feverishly like he really and truly understands. Behind his glasses, his eyes work overtime to find a solution for the massively inconvenient problem you reminded him about. He figures it out because he always does when he really wants something.

“Do me a favor, honey,” he winds the belt of said watch around your wrist and fastens it securely, kissing your palm, shoulder, ear, “tell me when it gets to 10.”

It all happened so fast. He hates that, he’s sick of hearing that expression. They’re cliches because they’re true, though. One minute you’re walking— no, floating— to the police department, more than ready to take that next step with your boyfriend. Butterflies tickle your insides with their pretty wings every time you think about it, making you involuntarily smile.

That must’ve been it.

You must’ve been looked too happy, too pleased with everything. Higher powers were surely warring over your good fortune, one of them isn’t on the same page as the rest because you’re supposed to be horribly, miserably unlucky in all departments. John wasn’t meant for you and, really, you should’ve known. His affections were marvelous and magical and easy. God, it was so easy to fall in love with him. Nothing was easy for you, you always had to learn the hard way.

“Gimme your wallet and you can walk away.”

Something you don’t see, can’t register, rests between your shoulder blades. Even through your clothes it’s cold and sends a shiver out to the rest of your body, effectively freezing you.

“I said gimme your wallet.”

Wordlessly, you fumble for it. You make the incredibly fucking stupid mistake of handing it to your mugger and not throwing it far like John told you to.

“The watch, too.”

In your fear induced rush of adrenaline you didn’t understand, the words hit your ear but didn’t compute. You don’t wear a watch, you don’t have one to give him. Then the weight of it around your wrist is so heavy your arm wants to pop out of its socket and fall off entirely. The watch— his watch.

“No.” The word dumbly crashes off your tongue, practically a question.

The weapon, whatever it was, was made quick and painful jab to the side of your head, the connection spinning both you and your head. You stumbled against the side of a brick wall, keeping your eyes downcast because that’s what you used to do to when you were hit.

“I ain’t asking, gimme the damn watch.”

Unconsciously, your hand wrapped over it as if to hide what you both knew already existed.

It wasn’t yours to give, you shouldn’t even be wearing it! What if you had cracked it or wo— well, actually, this would qualify as a worst case scenario, wouldn’t it? You risked a glance at the ground by your assailant. Cargo pants licked against bright red sneakers, information you could trade later to redeem yourself. Only, you had to be alive to do that.

Horribly ashamed and teary eyed, you unbuckle the leather.

You swallow hard on the lump in your throat but it won’t go away. It just sits there, undecided, waiting to choke you or send you into tears. John didn’t get off work for another five minutes and you, in your hilariously foolish streak, thought that you could quietly reporting the mugging.

In the precinct your boyfriend worked at, around people that recognized you immediately, to someone that knew him by name.

The officer took his darn time going over the questions with you, looking for a pen for you to fill out your contact information when John bursted in. His wild eyes searched until they found you, then he was over in two sweeps of his long legs. You hated that your impulse was to back away, you had to force yourself to be impossibly still as his hand leapt forward, but he caught that tiny jump.

His hand curled into a fist and fell just before he touched you.

“You’re bleeding— Why are you bleeding? What happened?”

Brown eyes, usually so soft and comforting, were murderously locked on the side of your head. You went to cover the wound that offended him, the aching bump on your temple but the light touch might as well have been a full press. You hissed and pulled away. Flakes of dried blood dusted your fingers. You didn’t even notice.

“Can—“ you inhaled sharply, eyes darting all around at the people who were starting to stare, “Can we not talk here?”

Sending a pointed glare all around, John didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Still, he mumbled “we done here?” to the officer who nodded even though you hadn’t filled out the form. Without touching he put his arm around you and angled himself as a shield, ushering you out of the building.

You had practiced everything you were going to say on the rest of that shameful walk to the precinct. You’d explain, apologize, offer to replace the watch, and then maybe he wouldn’t be so upset! Out the corner of your eye he seethed like a quiet moment before thunder boomed and lightning struck. And you forgot everything.

He barely made it halfway through the parking lot before he turned around, kicking a tire of a car. His hands threaded his hair like he was grasping for a shred of composure even though he’d already lost it. To you, he gestures up and down with a hardened expression that makes you feel smaller than ever.

“What happened!? I had to hear from Lewis that you walked into the station with a bruise? Why didn’t you come straight to me!?”

Ever since the incident, he always tried to protect you from his temper. He’d go on walks, presumably to hit something outside, or to the bar to yell at someone there. He doesn’t bring his rage through the front door. John never so much as raised his voice at you until now.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Don’t be—!?” He cuts himself off with a curt breath, shaking his head, “You can’t ask me that, you just can’t! Look at you! What the hell happened!?”

You blink, searching the ground trying to find air but there’s none.

“I lost your watch.”

“What?”

You wince at his incredulous tone, crossing your arms to protect yourself from his ire.

“I got mugged. I didn’t throw my wallet like you said to an-and the watch, your watch, he asked for it and I said no. But then he hit me and I didn’t have a choice!”

He clenched his jaw so tight you swore any second that you’d hear a crack of a tooth. His eyes were dark, yet ablaze like a wild forest fire.

“You—“ He scoffed, smiling sardonically at the sky. Sliding his hands under his glasses, he dragged them down as he sighed heavily, like he was trying to come back down to Earth, “My watch? Why? Why would you do something so incredibly reckless!?”

Tears sting at your eyes again but this time you can’t keep them at bay, they flood and pour over. You dig your nails into your skin.

“I just.. I didn’t know what else to.. I’m sorry, I’ll pay you ba—“

He crosses what little distance there is too fast, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

You’re enveloped in a crushing embrace. John presses you to his chest like he wants you to move in, you can hear his rapid heartbeat right under your ear.

“Baby, I don’t give a fuck about the damn watch! I care that you’re hurt! You were mugged, and you didn’t wanna tell me that first!? Jesus Christ. Never scare me like that again, I don’t ever wanna hear from someone else that you got hurt— y’know what, better yet, I don’t want to hear you got hurt at all.”

You feel awful all over. Of course he didn’t care about the watch. Of course the only way he could ever hurt you was by holding on too tight.

“You’re… not mad?”

“Not at you.” He breathes, pulling away slightly to look down at you. “Honey, if you don’t know by now how much you mean to me then I’m doing something very wrong here. You’re the one thing I could never replace.”

He cradles your face with a gentleness that fills you with guilt, how could you ever think he would hurt you? That fire in his eyes was fueled by fear the whole time, you didn’t notice it because of your own. John ghosts his thumb around the bump at your temple and you feel every little movement before it even happens.

“Are you hurt anywhere else? Should we go to the hospital?” He shook his head right after the question left his lips, deciding himself, “Yeah, we should. Car, where’s my car.”

He’s looking everywhere but at you as you flounder for words, still attempting to catch up to him. You dig your heels into the gravel as he starts to guide you forward.

This was too easy. He was being too nice, too understanding. He forgave you too easily. He deserved better than a black cat that just happened to cross his path and follow him home.

“John—“

“Don’t argue with me on this, ok? Not now, not ever. You are the single most important thing in my life and you’re…” he sucks in a sharp breath, catching his voice and temper rising again.

His eyes flicker to the side and back but you know where they went. You shift in his grasp, wrapping your arms around him this time. His hands don’t know where to settle for a change, struggling to find a hold that will give him the closest proximity to you.

“Finish your thought.” You say softly.

A weak, proud chuckle leaves him. He’s been working tirelessly to help you unlearn the abuse you went through. It’s always worth it he says, but moments like this are unbelievably special. To both of you.

John’s arms squeeze carefully and he breathes you in like you’re oxygen.

“You’re hurt. Baby,” the fond moniker is so heartbreakingly soft, “you don’t know how badly I never wanted to see you with another bruise.”

“I’m,” you swallow the instinctive apology even though it’s true, you are sorry, “I’m hurt, yes, but.. you’re making it better. Can we just go home?”

The word slipped out before you could snatch it back, making both of you go still.

“Home?” He echoes quietly, thoughtfully, hopefully. Pulling away, just enough to look into your eyes, “You still wanna move in?”

You almost succumb to your doubts, but you persevere and manage a slightly teasing, “I should be asking you that.”

“No,” its immediate and makes your heart swell, “you shouldn’t.”

He leans in slowly, tipping your chin up so he can capture your lips in a sweet and gentle kiss. The gesture washes away any lingering worries, replacing them with that delightful buzz you had earlier. John rests his forehead against yours, his smile is infectious.

“We can go home after I make sure you’re not concussed.” He promises.

Knowing your luck, you should’ve seen that coming. There was surely more to be said later, the conversation was left far from unfinished. However you stopped tallying up your misfortunes, deciding right there to erase the mental board on a whole. Because if you really wanted to keep score of something, the focus should be on him. The comforting thought of eventually being home with John would forever be more than enough.

#x reader #imagine #john munch imagine #john munch x reader #john munch x oc #poiboidrabbles #svu x reader #hlots x reader #john munch svu #john munch hlots #john munch #fiction #hurt/comfort

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serpentface · 4 months ago

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What's Wardi math like? What base is their number system and is it a place-value system? Is there a concept of mathematical rigor? For the classes with formal education, what level of proficiency in math is expected?

I'm not the most math brained so this isn't Super fleshed out tbr

The number systems in use in the present day I Think counts as biquinary and uses sign value additive notation rather than place value. This system does not account for decimal fractions (it Conceptualizes these integers as divisions of measurements but does not have a discrete means of depicting them), and does not have a well-defined mathematical concept of Zero that can be used in calculations, though does use visual placeholders to Indicate the concept of a lack of numerical value. There is no recognition of negative numbers whatsoever.

For people not familiar with the concept of place value vs sign value (because I don't Think this is super common knowledge?):

If you're reading this, there's a high chance you use the Hindu-Arabic numeral system, which uses place value notation. In this system, 326 and 623 represent different numerical value even though they're written with the same combination of numerals. Their position indicates what they must be multiplied by to determine their value (623 is 6 x 100 + 2 x 10 + 1 x 1)

The Wardi numeral system (and that of most of their regional contemporaries) uses sign value additive notation. A symbol's value remains fixed regardless of its position, the number is determined by adding its facets together.

This is what the numeral system looks like as of now. This is developed out of older tally systems and some pictograms, the latter having been simplified beyond recognition into blocky shapes.

There are stylistic conventions to improve ease and clarity of reading. Numbers are usually written right to left from the highest to lowest symbol integers, which is intuitive for the broader right-left writing system. The 5, 50, 500, etc signifiers are usually connected to their nearest 10, 100, 1000, etc as a matter of visual simplification (ie combining the 100 and 50 symbols will be instantly read as 150, thus and speeding up the mental math).

However, writing them the wrong way does not imply a need for subtraction or otherwise change the numerical value, it's just substantially less intuitive to read. You can write a number with its parts completely out of order and it will mean the same thing, it will just take significantly longer to read and people will think you're a jackass for it.

The 'nesting' mentioned here refers to the smaller integers being nested at a smaller size within their nearest master, causing the scale to decrease from right to left. This convention was inherited from older Burri numerical systems and is utilized in formal record keeping, though is rarely used elsewhere and is broadly falling out of favor (in large part due to jarring heavily with aesthetic conventions in formal Wardi script).

You'll also see numbers written in abstracted form with modified logograms or pictograms (the latter shown here)

This is completely abstracted, lacks clarity, and doesn't convey any internal information beyond Resembling the shapes and positions of the number characters being represented. This is related to the de-stylization of certain logograms in written poetry (ie fully illustrating a cow rather than the typical heavily stylized vague cow shape for the character 'Gan'), and is an artistic convention for beautifying certain texts, functionally Adjacent to the practice of illuminated manuscripts.

You'll also see this form of stylization used in sympathetic magic and some ritual contexts, where shaping numbers into the subject of your rite is a matter of emphasis of what EXACTLY you want accomplished.

---

I have the measurement system better fleshed out so I'll go over that a little.

The smallest standard unit of measurement is the wan (literally 'thumb'), which is associated with the length of the distal phalynx on the thumb and its joint (I didn't actually intend for this, but that's pretty close to an inch on average).

'Hands' (the word is 'un') are the unit of measurement for height/length at human scales, associated with the width of a closed fist (this averages around 4-4.25 inches). These are clumped into larger measurements still referred to with the 'hand' value, with the 'five-hand' being the next base (approximately 20 inches).

In most cases the average person does not have to measure small heights with great accuracy, so they will describe it rounded to the nearest hand base. IE:

I would describe my height (5'2") as 15 hands, or 3 five-hands (rounded down by a couple wan).

I would describe my dad's height (6') as 18 hands, or 3 five-hands and 3.

The five-hand is the base for longer measurements, having similar function to the meter or foot. It tends to be Associated with the length from the tip of the middle finger to the elbow (though is generally longer), and is often approximated as such for low-stakes everyday use.

'Ten five-hands' is the basis of measurement for distances. (approximately 17 ft). (I haven't decided on the in-universe terms for these btw, 'five-hand' probably is spoken how it's written but the 'ten five-hands' unit would have its own discrete word).

The biggest unit of measurement is a mile (no Wardi name yet), composed of 200 'ten five-hands'. (This is a little over a kilometer).

In everyday life most people are just using their own bodies for reference of the 'hands' unit, so measurements in hands can vary TREMENDOUSLY. There have been attempts to standardize these units and divorce them from the length of the body parts of individuals, which is what is usually used in official capacities.

The standardization of these measurements worked backwards from the preexisting established units. The length of the wan was given a set value and established as the smallest unit of measurement from which other measurements derived. 5 standard wan is one hand, a five-hand is 25 standard wan or 5 standard hands, and so on up the scale.

You'll see solid yardstick type tools for small measurements, but most larger scale measurements are performed with knotted lengths of cord, prepared referencing a standardized model cord. Fully beaded measurement cords like this are somewhat of a status symbol- they require a lot of beads and are EXTREMELY time consuming to produce and repair while maintaining accuracy.

People also measure in 'paces', though this one has not been adopted into standardized systems. It colloquially refers to the average length of a single stride at a normal walking pace. You say 'twenty paces from here' to give an approximation of distance in an intuitive way, not when you want to accurately measure a space.

---

You aren't expected to have high proficiency in math unless you're entering a field that requires it, but educated classes/all nobility is expected to have Proficiency. The act of reading numbers in of itself requires you to know at least Basic addition.

Every child who gets any form of formal education learns arithmetic as part of their core studies. Most public education for commoners keeps this pretty basic, you'll learn addition and subtraction thoroughly and will be taught how to multiply and divide small numbers, but it's unlikely that you'll be working with particularly large sums or getting into any algebra or more than basic geometry. It's potentially important knowledge for every member of society, both for basic utility and in managing finances and taxes.

Nobility get much more advanced education in mathematics. Most nobility are landowners who receive a the majority take of crops and livestock from peasants on their land. Much of this will be owed in taxes, but most will still end up with a large surplus Far beyond what their household can consume. Having a good grasp on math is important for wealth management in this context.

Male nobility in particular get thorough educations as part of the broader purpose of grooming them for official positions or priesthood. Anyone involved in the taxation system needs to have a rigorous understanding of mathematics, and the ability is also important for astrological observations performed by priests. Female nobility Usually get a more basic training adjacent to that of commoners, with any additional depth mostly being framed around home economics.

The MOST complex math education tends to be received in formal training as a scribe, which is generally a servant position occupied by members of the commoner class. Most scribes will double as accountants and the like, and working with large numbers with rigorous accuracy is vital to the job. Specialist craftsmen and merchants in the coastal guilds also frequently receive more in-depth math education during mentorships, particularly architects and shipbuilders.

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andkisses · 2 years ago

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♡ just about anything | jay ♡

late nights, when really, both of you should have been asleep a long time ago, but who knew this game of monopoly would last so long?

♡ jay x gn!reader | wc. 1.5k ♡ genres/tropes: domestic, competitive couple that won’t quit, staying up way too late ♡ mentions of/warnings: pet names, food, lmk if there’s anything else! <3 ♡ a/n: a repost and revamp of one of my very first writings from YEARS ago </3 (from that blog i accidentally deleted <///333)

♡ masterlist ♡

With the rest of the lights in the apartment off, the lone one above the kitchen table casts a warm glow into the darkness. The light illuminates the board, littered with green houses, red hotels, and Cheez-Its—you ran out of hotels about an hour ago (but who’s to say?) and needed something to represent a double-hotel on the board. There’s a notebook on the table that keeps getting passed back and forth, covered in numbers and tallies in two different handwritings. It’s currently functioning as a paper bank account, since the game has escalated far beyond the cash given in a standard Monopoly box.

Your eyes are tired, nearly burning with ache; it’s been too long, and it’s very much past your bedtime. But the both of you are stubborn, and horrifically competitive–especially when it’s just the two of you. He seems just as drained, eyes dropping and his head propped up on a closed fist. The loose hoodie slides down his arm, pooling around the elbow, and he uses the sleeve of the other to wipe at his eyes. Just seeing him sleepy makes you sleepy, and your head is bobbing up and down. It would be so much better to be curled up in his arms right now. The game is one of chance at this point, all up to the dice roll. The only safe spots on the board are your own; everything else is meaningless to you. You know you want to land on your properties and not his, for those Cheez-Its are threatening and—

“Did you just eat some of the board?” you ask, the dice still caught between your hands.

Jay looks up at you and blinks slowly, still chewing on the stolen Cheez-It. He swallows and takes a sip of his nearly empty glass of water before answering. “No.”

You shake your head, tilting it to one side. “No what?”

“No, I didn’t eat the board. I took it from the bowl, like a civilized person.” He points with his free hand lazily at the blue plastic bowl the Cheez-Its had been poured into when the demand for new hotels had arisen. How long ago had that been? Half an hour? An hour? Hours, plural? You couldn’t tell anymore. This game felt decades long yet you know you started it today. Or, was it really yesterday?

You reach forward and draw the bowl towards you, eliciting a tired pout from your boyfriend. “Well, you shouldn’t eat these either. We may need them.”

“And how could we do that, love?" Jay reaches to pick up the notebook and it flaps under its own weight as he lifts it into the air. “We’d need more money to upgrade any house or non-Cheez-It hotels, and we’ve already borrowed from an imaginary bank three times. Inflation is running rampant throughout this town. We’ve ruined the economy. We’re monsters.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jay shrugs, placing the paper bank back on the table before sniffling and wiping at his eyes again, this time with both hands. The ball cap he wears now sits askew on his head, and you, out of habit, reach forward to fix it, leaning against the table to help span the distance. Your fingers brush against the edge of the board, and the more you lean to reach across the table, the more you end up on top of the board. You’re out of your seat now, feet pressing on toes to get the height and length you need to reach to fix the hat.

And before you know it, you’re face to face and practically on the table. Jay leans forward and bumps his nose against yours while you adjust his hat. “We should stop,” he says plainly.

“Why? So you can win?” you mutter, half grumbling. One hand fixes his hat while the other acts as a brace against the table.

“No, so we can stop,” he says again, one hand reaching to rub simple patterns into the top of your hand. “The Cheez-Its will still be there in the morning. If we need it, Jake can bring his copy so we can have more actual cash to use.”

A quick hah escapes your lips. “You just want to win.”

“No, love, I just want to sleep.”

With his hat now fixed, you carefully lean back, peeling yourself off the table and into your seat. You’re silently thankful for the still intact Cheez-Its. Had they been crushed, you’re sure you’d given up, now feeling more tired than you were before your hat-fixing expedition—and that was already fairly tired. You’re about to refute his case, saying that the two of you should stick it out until the end, that surely it can’t be too much longer, when Jay takes his hat off—the one you so painfully just fixed—to run his hand through his hair before putting it back on, slightly crooked.

“Jay... I just... fixed... that.” You bite your lip, too tired to be angry out right but too tired to realize it also doesn’t matter.

“I know you did,” he replies, yawning into his sleeve. He begs again, a hint of desperation growing into his voice. “Can we please stop?”

You lean forward, resting your chin on the edge of the table and staring up at him from across the board. “Does this mean I win?”

“If you want to, love,” he says, scooting away from the table to stand, silently hoping his movement away from the game will pull you away as well. “If it means we can stop.”

A smile graces your lips as he walks around the table to your side. You take the hand he offers to help you up, holding tight. You pull his arm toward you, hugging it as you both shuffle forward into the darkness, the Monopoly board abandoned. “Thank you,” you say, stretching to place a kiss on his cheek.

“If it makes you happy, love,” Jay begins, his voice soft and tired, “I’d do just about anything.”

“Just about?” you tease, crawling up onto the bed and beneath the covers. “Meaning there’s things you wouldn’t do, hm?”

“Yes, just about,” he replies, mimicking your actions. Even half asleep, he still makes sure you’re tucked safely against his side, with his arm curled around your waist and your head resting on his chest. You hear his heartbeat, smooth and steady. You wrap your arms around his own waist, a soft smile against your lips.

He continues, murmuring sleepily into your hair after a kiss to your temple. “Just about, because if you had asked me to continue playing with you I would have fallen asleep at that table.”

“And what’s so bad about that?” you whisper back, titling your head up to see him. Moonlight streams around the edge of your curtains, providing just enough light to see.

“I really wasn’t looking forward to waking up with Cheez-Its ingrained into my forehead,” he replies with a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t think the look’s for me.”

You laugh, snuggling in closer against his hoodie, and he laughs too. “I think you would have looked great,” you say against his collarbone, eyes finally lulling shut.

“Do you now, love?”

“Yeah, orange is really your color.”

You feel his arm leave your waist and a single finger place itself beneath your chin. You allow Jay to tilt your head up before you open your eyes. He levels you a stare long enough for you to think you’ve done something seriously wrong before a laugh makes its way out, and before you know it, he’s placing happy, smiley kisses across your cheeks, your nose. He stops before your lips. His eyes, even tired, are still starry and glittering. His voice has reverence when he speaks. “You know I love you with every fiber of my being, right?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.”

Jay bumps into your nose, hand playfully squeezing back at your waist. “That’s where you’re supposed to say I love you, too.”

You shake your head, fake-frowning. “But you haven’t kissed me yet?”

“Is that a suggestion or a demand?” he asks.

You shrug. “You choose.”

He leans forward, giving you the slightest, softest peck before pulling back.

You pout, chin tilting down. “You call that a kiss?”

“No,” he laughs, kissing the side of your cheek right beside your lips. “I just love your pout. I love everything about you.”

As he kisses the other cheek, just as close to your lips, you sigh. “I love you, too, Jay.”

And this time, he really does kiss you, although chaste and sleepy, but an honest kiss regardless. He tucks you back under his chin, wraps his arms around you so he knows you're safe. You’re nearly asleep when he finally replies, his own voice laced with sleep, and it’s enough to make you smile. Enough to know that he really would do just about anything for you. It makes you wrap your around him just a little tighter, make you smile just a little wider.

“I love you too.” That’s what you’d said. He says, in the darkness and honesty of your room, “I know.”

#kdiarynet #kwritersworld #kflixnet #k-labels #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #jay fluff #jay headcanons #jay scenarios #jay imagines #fluff #scenarios #imagines #all #prose #enhypen

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hollow--sun · 3 months ago

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🕒 When: Today 📍 Where: The Old Treehouse 👥 With Whom: Estella Hartmann @irlsunbeam and Henri O’Dea @hollow--sun 🔹 Summary: Henri and his best friend, Estella, meet at their childhood hideout after weeks apart. While catching up, tension lingers as the sun fae senses something weighing on him.

The treehouse looked a lot smaller than Henri remembered.

When they were kids, the place had felt like a fortress, untouched by adults and their rules, high above the ground, distancing them from the rest of the world.

The wood had tarnished and the paint had chipped in places but the treehouse still remained standing, like the both of them.

Estella nowhere to be seen, Henri climbed up first, his boots making the wood creak as he escalated his way up to the entrance. The air was damp with the scent of wood and nostalgia, and Henri settled on the floor near the entrance, his fingertips idly tracing the carvings of the wood - he and Estella’s initials, a childish drawing of the sun and moon, as well as a tally of how many times she had dared him to jump down instead of using the ladder.

He exhaled, glancing toward the fading horizon. She’d be here soon.

It had been too long since their last real conversation.

The treehouse had been part of their life’s story for practically forever. Not literally, of course, because she hadn’t lived for forever just yet, but ever since she was tiny and Henri was tiny too (though slightly less tiny than she was, on account of being a few years older). Her father never came to bother her when she was in the treehouse, which was always welcome. The treehouse was sturdy and ever-lasting. It was a secret getaway for them, and more than once she’d done her best to convince Henri that they should sleep over in the treehouse (she did love the way the morning sunlight hit through the treehouse windows).

She was running late (it wasn’t completely her fault, she’d got caught up in an argument about multilingualism online and had only noticed the time when she’d glanced at her watch and realized she had to go and meet up with Henri) but she knew that Henri would forgive her.

Estella wasn’t too much of a fan at all of the oncoming dusk, but Henri made her feel safe even when it was nighttime. Still, three flashlights and half a dozen uncracked glow sticks were in her bag.

“Sorry, some idiots were saying some stupid stuff online.” She threw her bag onto the floor of the treehouse and swung her body into the room. “Hey.” She grinned. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m hungry, so I got Thai on my way over here – which yes, is partially why I’m late, but I got spring rolls and pad thai – vegetarian, both, and I had to grab some veggies and tofu too.” She lay against the wall of the treehouse. “It’s really nice to see you.”

With a simple raise of his eyebrows, Henri commented on her lateness. Of course she was late because she had been arguing online. “Regrettable but I know you showed them good.” Because if there was one thing Henri would not attempt, it was arguing with Estella because she was able to do it in five different languages without breaking a sweat, and fighting was not something he needed more of.

If the idea of him not being hungry was a myth in itself, he didn't comment on the matter, instead laying his back against the wood of the treehouse as he reached into the bag for a spring roll. You’re forgiven. He seemed to say, as he chewed slowly on his first bite.

Exhaling, he leaned his head back on the wall and tilted his chin toward his friend. “It’s good to see you too,” he quietly responded.

He’d known her long enough to know that sometimes she was late. It wasn’t a quality about herself she admired (except for when it pissed off her father) especially, but it wasn’t something she made any great effort to change, either. It just simply was, and Estella was fine with that. “Obviously.” She grinned. “But you’re worth getting away from trying to right people’s wrongs on the internet.” He was worth so much more than that, and she hoped he still knew that, but overdosing him with compliments wasn’t going to do any good and so she left it simple. There was so much more to be said in what was unsaid.

She grabbed a spring roll right after him and started to nibble at the fried paper. After a moment, she stretched out her arms and rolled her shoulders. It wasn’t out of nerves that she moved around – with Henri, she didn’t get anxious. Not usually, unless outside circumstances caused her anxiety. Henri himself never did, despite how much more serious he was about everything than she was. But it was something she liked about him – it was familiar. It made her know that he was her Henri, and not some imposter.

Just in case, she checked her bag for a mirror. If someone did try to imposter Henri, she’d waste no time in setting them on fire.

“How’s school? It’s almost the end of the semester, right? Does this mean I can get you to go away with me this summer? Any place you want. We could go to Bora Bora? Or Los Angeles for a weekend?” She took another bite of her spring roll, “whatever, we’ll figure it out. But I am making you go somewhere.”

The flattery was met with a faint eyeroll and perhaps hints of a smile. . Henri would never admit to it, but he needed the special sort of warmth that only could be provided by trusted friends and whenever Estella said such things, she made him feel a bit less lonely.

Wiping his fingers on a napkin with precision, the young man fixed his eyes somewhere past her shoulder. He could picture it. Bora Bora, the sun hitting the ocean with such warmth it turned it all to gold, the heat on his skin, the scent of monoï lingering about. Or maybe they could go to LA, to a city that never seemed to ever go dark, kept awake by the humming of dreamers.

It should have been easy to say yes. He had long ago accepted that she enjoyed doing these sorts of things for people, even if said people belonged to the middle class, like him. But the thought of leaving Wicked’s Rest for that long (yes, just a couple of days), of not being able to watch and keep things in check - crept up his spine like an unscratchable itch.Summer was still a few months away, and who was to say that no disaster would happen between now and then. With a long exhale, he tilted his head against the treehouse wall. “We’ll see,” he said, voice even, unreadable. He took a look at her. Maybe he’d see disappointment, or maybe she’d watch him like she knew something.

She knew what his reaction would be. She could predict many of his reactions, after all, but wasn’t that what best friends did? He knew her freakishly well sometimes, and except for a couple missteps, he was one of the only people she could honestly say she’d never promise bound too much. He wouldn’t want to get away from things, from his studies and how deeply serious he was about everything. She liked her work, and she liked studying and reading but Henri took “serious about academics” to a whole other level. Universe, even.

But they were different, and that was why being best friends clicked so well for them. Opposites attract, or, in this case, become best friends. Which was its own sort of attraction, and there were plenty of stories about best friends. Friendship was the ultimate antithesis to evil, after all, and Estella considered herself lucky and well-armed with the friendships that she had. Particularly Henri and Talia.

“We’ll see.” She nodded, raising an eyebrow. There was always more unsaid than said with Henri, and even if she found it frustrating at times, it was part of what she loved most about him. “We can put a pin in it for now. I want to talk to you anyhow, not about wherever I’m taking you this summer.” She grabbed a fork and dug into the Pad Thai. “This is so good. I have plates, if you want?” Estella said, mouth full before swallowing and adding, “or we can share. It’s not as easy to share as pizza, but we can make anything work!”

Henri watched Estella dig into the Pad Thai with the kind of enthusiasm that made it obvious she’d already decided they were sharing, no matter what he would have to say about it. He exhaled, barely shaking his head, but there was a flicker of something at the corner of his mouth—not quite a smile, but close enough.

Since he wouldn’t have called himself a germophobe, and this was hardly the first time they shared their food (or stole shamelessly from the other’s plate), he just picked up a pair of disposable chopsticks from the bag and dug in. Henri found it interesting the way Estella managed a way to cross lines he didn’t even realize he had created. It was one of the million things about her that made him feel less like himself—or maybe more like himself, in ways he wasn’t sure he wanted to truly acknowledge.

As expected, the food tasted great, but it wasn’t what interested him the most right now. I want to talk to you anyhow. That was what mattered to him.

Was there something wrong?

He knew that even though they were sitting in a landmark of their childhood, sharing dinner and having a casual conversation made him all a bit suspicious (though he didn’t suspect anything bad coming from her), because he just couldn’t help himself. “Talk about what?” He set down his elbows on his knees, idly spinning his chopsticks as he quietly added: “Is everything okay?”

She caught his not-smile-but-near-smile. It was a win, and she’d take it. It wasn’t anything new, but a certain self-centered part of her would always feel proud that she could get Henri to smile. Also, she was really hungry. She hadn’t quite realized just how hungry she was until the first bite of Pad Thai hit her mouth and then she had to take another couple forkfuls before she could refocus on her friend.

He grabbed chopsticks and she shook out her hair with a satisfied smile.Good. She never wanted to disappoint him. Henri was, in fact, one of the people whose approval Estella constantly wanted to have. It wasn’t the longest of lists, and certain people were notably absent from it (aka her dad – usually), but Henri was the very top of the list, probably.

“Oh – yeah! Stuff’s fine! I just wanted to talk. I don’t know. Tell me a history fact. Or I can tell you about the show I watched last week. Or the three I started but didn’t finish. I just want to chat. It’s not bad.” She nudged his leg with the toe of her shoe. “It’s really not. I promise.” He didn’t know the extent of what her promises meant, but he did have to know that she’d never broken one. “Also, when can I make you watch Wicked again?”

Henri didn't answer straight away. You could not say that chit chat or casual conversation was his favorite. It was easier to search on burial rites through the Bronze Age than it was to respond to his best friend saying she just wanted to talk, not because he didn't want to talk to her, but rather because he did. Estella had her way of asking for things without demanding and slipping right past all his defense lines with a smile or a nudge of her foot. She made him softer, and that was not something he ever gave permission for.

Clearing his throat, he leaned his head back against the wooden wall and sighed as he thought about it. "A history fact, huh?" He repeated, mildly. "Uh… did you know that in ancient Rome, purple dye was so expensive it was basically illegal for anyone but emperors to wear it? It came from a kind of sea snail." He shrugged. "It took thousands of those. Disgusting process." Was that the best fact to spout out while having dinner? Maybe not, but it took a lot more than that to make his stomach churn. And that's when he took another bite.

Then, the young man looked up from the food, one brow raised like she’d asked something dangerous. A corner of his mouth tugged, not quite a smile, but something that lived in the same realm. "Wicked again?" he repeated, tone light but his gaze lingering a little too long before dropping back to his bowl. "I guess I can survive that. But only if you actually finish one of those shows you start—and only if you promise not to cry-sing your way through ‘Defying Gravity’ again." He nudged her ankle gently with his foot, like a counterbalance to the teasing. "Fair trade, right?"

Henri made her feel calm, even when she might have otherwise been anxious. It was amazing, and she credited their long friendship with why it was this way. It was either that or magic, and she was pretty sure Henri couldn’t do magic. Besides, friendship was truly its own sort of magic, wasn’t it? That was what all the stories confirmed.

“I didn’t. That is gross though. Not to mention, I feel bad for the poor snails!” Estella frowned. The idea of hurting any animal made her feel sick - which was, perhaps, at least part of the reason why she’d wound up with so many pets of her own. The idea of them being sad or coming to any harm was unimaginable. “Well, I’m glad purple isn’t so hard to come by now! It’s a very lovely color and my socks are even that color!” She grinned, again, because Henri understood her, and cared about her, and that was the best thing she could hope to have.

“Yes. Again. Also in November you’re coming to part two with me. Just so we’re clear.” She doubted that any of that wouldn’t be clear, but she also did enjoy bossing Henri around sometimes. Never anything bad, but just all in good fun. “Fine. I’ll finish a show.” That wasn’t getting a promise. “I’ve only started… well. The number isn’t important. Do you have recommendations on which one? I’ll show you all my streaming services.” She giggled and rolled her eyes at the next comment. “Fine. I – won’t cry-sing ‘Defying Gravity’ again.” Also not a promise, because in the event that she did do just that, Estella didn’t want to ruin their movie night by getting sick. “Can’t say the same thing about ‘I’m Not that Girl’, though.” She thought for a moment, “we could also go to Italy, if you wanted?”

Henri’s chopsticks froze in midair, the bite of tofu paused halfway to his mouth.

Italy.

She knew what she was doing. Of course she did.

His first instinct was to play it cool, to nod and brush it off once again, but the flicker of excitement that sparked in his chest betrayed him. It was not just the ruins and sun-drenched landscapes that he found appealing —though that was part of it. It was the way Italy kept its history layered in its soil like a magnificent sfogliatella. He’d studied it for years (Italy’s history, not the sfogliatella), dreamt of standing where ancient, legendary scholars once did and trace those lines in the stones with his own fingers.

He finally looked up from the pad thai, eyes locking with hers. Serious, yes—but softer, a kind of quiet reverence blooming in his voice.

“Italy,” he said, as if he did not trust a word of that. “You’re not joking?”

He didn’t smile, exactly—but there was a shift in his expression, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to hint at how much the idea meant to him. He set down the chopsticks and leaned back a little against the treehouse wall, his gaze briefly distant.

“I’ve wanted to go since I was… eight years old. Pompeii. Ostia Antica. Even the lesser-known sites, the ones no one writes about in the guidebooks.” He exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t be a vacation for me. Not really.”

Then, quieter, more tentative, “But with you… maybe it could be.”

He reached out, nudged her shoe with his own in a subtle, rare moment of affection.

“I’ll help you finish one show,” he added dryly. “And you’re absolutely going to cry-sing anyway. I’ve accepted this.” With a playful roll of his eyes, Henri finished his bite and set down his chopsticks to get his phone out, because that was just a bad habit at this point. He had to make sure no one had tried to call or text him.

She didn’t smile when his chopsticks froze, because that would have been unkind, and she didn’t want to ever be considered that, especially not by Henri. He was the foremost authority on this sort of thing, probably. Or perhaps Estella was simply keen on thinking highly of Henri in any capacity (that part was absolutely true, but that didn’t mean the other thing wasn’t possible. Many things were possible, so long as you believed strongly enough in them.

“I’m not! I know I do joke sometimes but not about this. Not if something matters to you. Or to Aoife, or Mickey, or Talia, but especially you. You’re my favorite.” Her stomach didn’t hurt, which made her smile just a bit brighter. She hadn’t intended it to be a lie, but this was nice confirmation that it really wasn’t. “I’d love to go to Italy with you. I want to eat like a hundred pizzas and gelato and go for walks with you and hear you talk about all the stuff you know. Maybe I’ll try and pick up some Italian before we go.

He smiled in the way only she’d recognize as a smile. Good. He was happy, which made her happy. “But would you have a good time? Because that’s all that matters to me. It’s okay if you work. I’ve long since accepted that this is who you are. You were like this when I was a toddler.” Estella raised an eyebrow, rolling it into an eyeroll. But a kind one, one of amusement rather than frustration.

“I’m happy to make anything a vacation.” She flashed up a peace sign before grabbing another forkful of Pad Thai.

“What show? I’m into Parks and Rec, Superstore, Abbott Elementary, also Grey’s Anatomy. I tried out SVU and also Criminal Minds but they made me too stressed out. People in it are mean. There’s probably others I’m forgetting?? Do you remember?” She shook her head. “That’s true, I am. I am glad you’ve accepted me for who I am.” She looked over to him looking down at his phone, “anything interesting?”

How could someone say something so sweet and yet still sound sincere? From anyone else, it would have come off as a line. Even Aoife, who couldn’t shut up to save her own life, would have made it sound like some joke. Not Estella. It felt as though calling him her favorite was the same as saying the sky was blue or that Pad Thai was even better the next day. It was a fact, and that was how she meant it.

And so he didn’t say anything. He just looked into the distance, his lips pressed together and his chest warm in that annoying way he never knew how to handle.

“I think,” Henri finally said, taking a deep breath as he picked at a peanut on the edge of the container. “I think I’d like that. Italy, I mean.” He flicked his gaze toward her, the faintest curl of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Though I’m well aware, gelato will forever ruin American gelato for me.”

The peace sign made him roll his eyes, in exasperation rather than annoyance. She did have a way to bring sunshine wherever she went, even when she cried because a rock looked lonely according to her. (Yes, he did end up bringing said rock back to his house. Yes, the rock still sat on a shelf nowadays.)

“I hope I don’t ruin Italy by being... me. I’m not great at vacationing.” His tone softened, honest in a way he usually reserved for quiet nights or Estella in particular. “But I’ll try. If you’re there.”

The only message he had received was from his mother, who was asking whether they should expect him to drop by the house later tonight. “Just my mom. Yes, I will tell her you said hi,” because he knew that was what she was going to say next. “Parks and Recs is too long. Grey's Anatomy is too long. Don’t know about Superstore and the other one though. You can pick one of these. I guess.”

Sometimes she wished Henri knew she was physically incapable of lying. She’d told him she didn’t lie a fair few times but she figured he’d always taken it as her just not wanting to lie. Not that she literally couldn’t. Still, he took her compliments, and that was good. Good enough for now. Which she’d settle for, because all that really mattered was that Henri was in her life.

“Bet, okay! I’ll come over, or you can come over to my place sometime, and we’ll get tickets.” She’d say how they’d be first class once they’d chosen them. That way it would at least somewhat of a reduction in his telling her no. Besides, you could sleep better in first class, and she meant no shade at all, but Henri looked like he needed to sleep for a hundred years. Like Sleeping Beauty, though she wasn’t about to make that comparison to his face. “Probably, but it’s okay. It’s not like America really makes proper gelato anyways. I think we’d have to try nearly every flavor at whatever shops we can find. Unless that’s too wild.” She scrunched up her nose, not a note of sarcasm present. She didn’t want to push Henri too far – him agreeing to come on what was definitely a vacation even if he didn’t call it that was a big win, and she’d be chill about other things if need be. At least she’d attempt to be, externally. Internally was a whole other story.

Estella couldn’t help but grin at his eyeroll. It was endearing – at least to her. She knew other people might find it off-putting, but there wasn’t a single thing about her best friend that was off-putting to her.

“Well, I will absolutely be there, and you’re my friend, you’re not gonna ruin a trip by being you! Never. Impossible. I’ll hold your hand if you want. We can take baby steps into this. Eat gelato while you tell me important history facts, walk around important places while I get you to wear a bracelet that has some color… you know. The basics.”

“Good, thank you! She’s pretty cool, and also respect to her dedication to Cher. I know I did make her watch the second Mamma Mia movie but like, the Cher of it all was a nice surprise, I think!” She tapped her fingers against her thigh. “Superstore’s like, six seasons I think? Abbott Elementary’s finished up its fourth season. If you’re talking about SVU though, I think that has like ten kajillion seasons, so probably not good. Or we can watch a miniseries. Netflix keeps recommending these ones about Haunting to me. Though I guess that would mean starting something new, so…”

Henri could keep himself from snorting at the mention of a bracelet with some color but he didn’t try to argue about it. Maybe he should have but he knew better than to fight Estella on her vision. If she wanted to dress him up like a tourist Barbie, she would have to earn it, one accessory at a time because the thought of him walking around Rome in ridiculously expensive sunglasses with a bright turquoise bead bracelet on his wrist and a colorful touristy tee shirt on ? That was not how he saw himself spending that weekend.

“I’m not wearing a bright bracelet,” he said flatly, “but if it’s like…a muted color, we’ll talk. You’re pushing your luck, though.”

Still, his tone lacked any real sharpness. That was the thing about Estella—she could get him to do things. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the way she asked, or because she made them sound fun, or perhaps because he didn’t actually mind as much as he pretended to.

“Gelato, however ? No questions asked.” Though he would draw the line at colorful gelato of course. Not because he was that intense about colors, but rather because he knew it would only take only a few trips to the ice cream parlor for her to notice that detail. Still, even if she tried to verbally sugar coat her comment, Henri took note of it. He picked at an imaginary lint on his trousers as he responded. “Thanks. I know I’m not… easy, sometimes.” If he didn't like how that came out, he didn't say. The last thing he wanted was to linger on the parts of his life he couldn't discuss.

“No bazillion seasons shows. They’re a black hole I refuse to be sucked in. You pick something short. 10 episodes a season or less. And if it has jump scares, we can't be friends anymore.”

A pause.

“Besides what do you mean if I want. You better hold my hand before the bracelet. That’s, like, the order of things.”

#meet me at the treehouse #ft. irlsunbeam #adventures with henri #wickedswriting

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firefullofblood · 1 year ago

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Soooo... Welcome to my blog, this is my officially main blog about anything I wanna post about.

Names I use: Benjamin, Sheldon, Jeff, Tate

I'm using he/him pronouns

Arospec(Myrromantic) & bisexual ftm

+ uniromantic

I'm polytherian and otherkin or whatever...

I am a part of a lot of fandoms... Blah blah blah

POSTING

I'm gonna definitely post about some interests of mine like animals, nature, books, planes, music, guns, painting and drawing, vintage and more.

I also have an interest in taxidermy, anatomy, true crime and collecting stuff ( especially bones and feathers), also love vinyl records and 1920/30's, might post about it too.

This blog is mainly for my otherkin and therian stuff, but also my personal life and interest, art etc etc.

I'm not NSFW but I might post some more mature stuff

Imma post looooot of music related stuff

My theriotypes

Grey ( timber brownish ) wolf

Fallow deer

Ichthyosaur

deinonychus

elk

+ spitirual connection to fox and domestic dog (possibly theriotype)

MY MAINLY ANIMAL THERIAN BLOG : @waterfullofbubless

I have a NSFW blog, but I won't put it here

My kins

Tate Langdon

BEN Drowned

Tom Riddle (young adult)

Ajax

Also past life: Jack McGurn

Just wanna say BC of this... I'm not a violent person towards others and I don't commit hateful crimes, thx.

If you wanna talk to me I'm always down for it ( might sound a bit cold from start, but I don't mean it bad)

I'm a satanist who's into witchcraft a bit sooo...be respectful ( I respect every religion)

Don't forget to check my webtoon comic Instagram account Space.fulloffire

What I personally don't support:

Transphobia

Homophobia

Practicing harmful paraphilias

Racism

Hate towards furries or therians etc

Hate towards people for something that can't change when they don't do anything bad

What I don't vibe with but I RESPECT ( don't be mean and just respect me back). It's just stuff I might not talk best about, BUT I respect y'all if you show me respect back:

BTS "army" & Swifties ( idm fans in general but... If you know you know)

SHARK or SNAKE HATERS ( just don't be rude lol)

Haters of non violent satanism ( just don't be mean ig)

People who think liking taxidermy is weird

People who are huge K-pop fans ( respect just... I'm not a fan so don't be rude about it)

People who are like: "name three songs and band members" ( I'll respect y'all...but honestly tf)

DNI:

people who are toxic BTS and Taylor Swift fans

Toxic Christians ( you know which I'm talking about)

Homophobes

Transphobes

Anti furries and therians

People who are under 13 years old or over 40 years old

People who have harmful paraphilias who are practicing

People who wanna s*x text me

People who think therianthropy is cringe ( duh)

People who are anti any alt style

....

DO NOT INTERACT WITH COMMENTS OR DON'T REBLOG IF YOU'RE EXPLICIT NFSW ACCOUNT ( pictures with sexual nature)

Oh btw, please DO NOT flirt with me, I have a boyfriend and I love him with every single drop of blood in my body.

♪MUSIC BONUS♪:

Some of my favourite genres:

Rock

POV: indie

Pop

Alternative metal

Modern rock

Pop punk

Punk

Post-Grunge

Nu metal

Permanent wave

Scenecore

Jazz

Electro swing

Classic rock

Rap

Pixie

Otacore

Show tunes

Etc.

SOME of my favourite bands/ artists etc:

My chemical romance

Joost

Queen

Nirvana

Mindless self indulgence

The cure

Cavetown

Set it off

Jack Stauber's micropop

Tally hall

Dean Martin

Lady gaga ofc

Voodoo church

Breaking Benjamin

Get scared

....

I guess that's all for a "music window"

thanks for reading this lol

#intro post #fictionkin #alterhuman #therian #otherkin #wolfkin #deerkin #alterhuman identity

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tgrailwar-zero · 5 months ago

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OKUNI: "Time's up! Pencils down! Let's check those answers, shall we?"

OKUNI: "First off, Yoshitsune Senbon Zakura is a play based on the dramatized setting of the Heike Monogatari, which was about the Genpei War. The show is actually set a little bit after the war, where the great general Yoshitsune, his ally Benkei, and his mistress Shizuka Gozen set off on a journey across the provinces. Maybe we'll perform it on the road."

ZANZABUROU: "Zan!"

OKUNI: "Mm. Yeah, it'd take at least a whole day to get through most of it. We'd have to save it for when we were sure we'd have the time and the audience for it."

OKUNI: "Secondly, 'bombastic and heroic' character archetypes are performed by Aragoto-shi. 'Aragoto' means 'rough style'. 'Wagoto' means 'soft style'-- these are your romantics, gentle-hearted characters with an elegant demeanor. 'Jitsugoto' means 'serious style', and those types of characters are dignified, refined, and considered wise in comparison to everyone else."

You heard RICHARD gasp off to the side.

RICHARD: "Jitsugoto, you say...? Ah! If I am to take the stage, such a dignified role calls for me as a king! But no… I do have the gentle, refined soul of a poet… and the heroic spirit of a brave warrior! Ahh... I can't choose!"

OKUNI: "Saying this for no reason in particular, but there's also the 'Dokegata'... the 'clowning form'. Your show comedians. You know, just some bonus info."

ZANZABUROU: "Mn."

OKUNI: "Anyways, on to number three. When women got banned from kabuki after dominating the stage for years, men fell into playing women's roles. These actors were called 'onnagata', literally 'woman's form'. While I don't like excluding people from the stage like the shogun mandated, I don't hate the concept of 'onnagata'. Plenty of women in my troupe played male roles, after all. Frankly, if you can play the role, I say give it a shot-- gender is secondary to gusto!"

OKUNI: "Finally, the poses are called 'mie'. You can't just do 'mie' whenever- it's when the show's emotions are at their peak! Knowing your character, the scene, and how the audience is feeling… taking those into account, you draw up all your energy, the scene freezes- and bam! You pose!"

ZANZABUROU: "ZAN--!!"

OKUNI: "So, tallying things up..."

OKUNI: "Three out of four isn't bad. Not bad at all! Not the 'perfect' that Mr. Knight promised, but I'm pleasantly surprised. So… fine, if you want to roll with the Okuni Troupe, I'll find a place for you and your merry band! Welcome to the team! We can talk about pay and everything later."

[ You were accepted into the Okuni Troupe! ]

OKUNI: "And… you're Masters, right? If that's the case, since we're traveling together…"

[ You received OKUNI's matrix! ]

#thgw story #thgw: chapter 9

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digitalpreeyam-seoexpert · 4 months ago

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The digital marketing landscape in 2025 is more dynamic and data-driven than ever. With AI-powered automation, hyper-personalized marketing, and immersive experiences like AR and VR, startups must adapt to stay competitive. Search engines prioritize voice and visual search, making SEO strategies more complex yet crucial. Short-form video content continues to dominate social media, while influencer and community-driven marketing shapes brand credibility.

Privacy-focused marketing is also gaining traction, with stricter data regulations pushing startups to adopt ethical, first-party data strategies. AI-driven chatbots and automation enhance customer interactions, reducing manual effort. Additionally, Web3 technologies like blockchain and decentralized platforms are reshaping digital ownership and transparency. For startups, leveraging emerging technologies, optimizing user experience, and maintaining agility in marketing strategies are key to success. The evolving digital landscape presents both challenges and opportunities, making it essential to stay ahead of trends to drive growth and brand visibility.

#digitalpreeyam #daily current affairs in hindi #digital pathshala #roadmap for interview preparation #best course for mechanical engineering #high paying jobs for mechanical engineering #startup #how start accounts work first time in tally prime #learn tally prime in hindi with practical course #where to apply for shark tank india season 3

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alostwanderernotfound · 1 year ago

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On Communion

The inseparability of communion from the church is self evident. It is not just a process we go through symbolically, it is a relationship. In front of your community, your spiritual leaders, & in front of God you accept your past. You devour the flesh of a sacred being, Jesus Christ himself, in a different form and the priest is the one that hands it to you. Your “sin” in other cultures, faiths, even in our own is now publicly on display & a recognized holy person *shares* in it with you. One of the most shamed practices/sins, including even the church’s historical condemnation of paganistic practices, is now on display to be witnessed in the eyes of God. For not one of us is free of sin. The church recognizes your individuality & takes on your sin with it during your journey. For under other Gods & cultures you may be punished, but under God here we recognize you as you are your whole person. Words matter, Context matters, & living your life to the fullest on path that does the most good is not an easy road for many. And God says he knows. It is easier to never face challenges & commit little sin & it is far harder to face great evil & still be good despite that which they attempt to mislead you to do. For others will attempt to lead you astray & tell you that that which you did not mean to do is your damnation- no.

For the ways of hell take good men & make them sick until they cannot help but to do “evil” deeds & because they are good men they accept their undeserved punishment & delude themselves into believing they are destined to be evil. No. I do not believe that.

He hurts you & tells you to hurt another. Then instead of fighting back against his next command & ending the cycle of violence, you then follow his command because you falsely believe this is all you are. You are not evil. You are not damned.

You are your choices. But a false choice isn’t a choice & if the devil holds a gun to your head while you hold another gun to someone else’s head & he commands you to shoot & you must: My word believes we do not immediately crucify & vilify the man for what he has done, but we take priority to bringing the devil & evilness to their expedient & swift justice. Coercion is not choice. Mistakes are not unforgivable. Having free will doesn’t mean we are doomed. Your inherent being, your soul despite what evil often forces you to do, is not evil. Some hold hate in their heart & will be punished. But a far greater proportion of people are simply good souls feeling alone in this world where something beyond themselves has trapped in a cage with a rabid & hungry wild animal that bites- and that entity is what we call evil, sin, manipulation.

You will be held to account for your actions, but that accountability will be fair or there is no accountability in this world at all- because the process most often teaches others the wicked & powerful & the influential will forever be able to skirt their own responsibility in what has occurred while you are the only one who actually suffers because they made you pull the trigger. And that is the way evil operates in this world. In Earth there may be injustice, but on judgement day you will recognize & meet the true face of what is just even if you have never seen her face before that day. Whatever is in your heart & are your actual intentions in your soul you will have to answer for. And that is why we preach of the Lord’s judgement day because you & your story isn’t just tally marks to count all of your sins. Your personhood, your story, & the might of the evilness that surrounds you & the pain that which you have had to endure here are inseparable from you.

Don’t let evil convince you that you are unforgivable or unsaveable.

#christianity #jesus #faith in jesus #holy bible #bible #second coming #catholic #communion #faith #holy spirit #spirituality #scripture #justice #fairness #love #angel #christian faith

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asdc130 · 1 month ago

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