#And I'm sure these accounts are a dime a dozen

[cartoonsbyandie]

I almost got scammed! How to avoid my mistakes.

I’ve been pretty quiet on my social medias for a bit for a lot of reasons, and one of them being that I very nearly fell for a scam that would’ve cost me $2000. Several calls to my bank later, it’s finally all been sorted out, which means I can finally talk about the whole thing. Even though I didn’t end up losing much of anything (certainly nowhere near $2000), I don’t want any other commissions artist to go through this for the crime of giving someone the benefit of the doubt that doesn’t deserve it.

I do commissions online. I got a message on Instagram from someone wanting me to do a picture for their daughter’s birthday this month, offering to pay me way above my commission rates ($200) for what I assumed was a rush job. They provided pictures and lots of details about what their daughter liked and what would be good to include in the picture, and I even drew up a sketch for them. The way my commissions work, I take the full payment once the sketch had been approved, and so far, everything was looking normal.

That is, until, they revealed they were going to pay by check. And really I’m just going to give you the biggest TL;DR piece of advice: Just don’t take checks. It’s not worth it. The reason is that they’re prone to scams because when you deposit a check, the funds will show up in your account. That doesn’t mean the check has cleared, and won’t bounce. This is incredibly annoying to research because so many google results will tell you that a check ‘clears’ within 1 to 2 days, but that’s because the law requires the funds to be made available that quickly. If they find out the check is forged or bad-- WHICH CAN TAKE A MONTH OR LONGER-- you not only get hit with a returned item fee, but the money vanishes from your account.

So say, if the person you’re assuming is trustworthy has told you they “accidentally” wrote a check for $2000 instead of $200, and gave some excuse why they couldn’t simply write a new check, and came up with the brilliant suggestion of just having you deposit it and then Zelle them the remaining $1800-- If you do all that, suddenly you’re out $2000.

I came dangerously close to falling for it. When the person wanted to email me a scan of the check (so I could use mobile deposit, which I did because I figured it’s a rush job and they didn’t want to wait to mail the physical check, look I’m not smart okay--) AND THEN suddenly demanded I use Zelle to instantly give them the money, that’s when I got suspicious. I literally googled “Scams that use Zelle” and found my exact situation. But I figured it’d be fine if I waited until the check fully cleared and kept my bank in the loop, which is why I risked depositing it. I figured I was at no risk until I actually sent them the money, and I still wanted to believe this was a legitimate customer, and I really liked the idea of making $200. Which definitely blinded me to better things I could’ve done. Like, you know, not depositing the check and demanding a different method of payment.

It’s been about a forty days since I deposited the check. Three calls to my bank’s fraud department + one physical visit (two of which told me they might find me culpable for depositing the check and burn my account, which was scary) is what it took to get this mess sorted out. ONE OF THOSE CALLS TOLD ME THE CHECK HAD 100% CLEARED AND HAD A 0% CHANCE OF BOUNCING. I almost Zelled this person the money that night.

Seriously. If you get a bad feeling, trust that. That’s the only thing that saved me here. So did getting lots of advice from family and friends about how this stuff works.

TL;DR Here’s a quick and dirty list of red flags I learned just from this single experience:

Insisting on paying with a check is a red flag by itself if I’m honest, but especially if they just mail you an image of it and expect you to mobile deposit it. Seriously just don’t do this I don’t know what I was thinking

Especially especially if they insist on paying with a check and then want you to give them money with some instant form of payment, like Zelle.

If all their accounts have different names. (This one was Jessie something, their email was Shawn, they wanted me to Zelle to another account with a different name.)

If their account is a generic name + number thing. (Like jessie.10 or something.) I know a few legitimate people with accounts like that but it’s just one of many boxes to tick.

If they seem way too trusting to give a stranger on the internet a crazy amount of money with the expectation that you’ll pay them back. I’d never met this person and they were saying they trusted me with the $2000, I just had to give them my word that I’d give it back.

If they’re offering you well above your commissions prices. They want to blind you with the idea of a big payday when they’re paying with imaginary money.

If they put a ton of pressure on you to respond quickly. This person kept spamming me with Instagram audio calls early in the morning or while I was at work.

If they say stuff like this, which honestly was the biggest gift they could’ve given me because it just removed all doubt:

[seiya-starsniper]

WIP Word Search Game

I AM 8 BAJILLION YEARS LATE WITH NO EXCUSES (that's a lie, I was sick so haven't written too much lmaoooooo) but thank you so much for the tags @five-and-dimes and @hardly-an-escape

My words are cold, warm, soft, hold, hurt and book, scare, red, hip, tree. Let's see what we've got!

Putting this under a cut because it got long!

Cold:

From an Untitled Dreamling Forced Marriage AU

Dream wishes he had tried harder to convince Robert to open their marriage. Then maybe he could have had someone else’s child, and taken the fall for an affair and run off, out of this cold, loveless place. But Robert had vehemently refused him even that small comfort, and Dream now finds himself hating his husband for it. Now he was trapped forever, with no escape. 

Warm:

Continuation of Untitled Portrait of a Man (I Want to Obliterate Me)

“Hey,” Hob greets warmly, breaking Dream out of his reverie and forcing him to reboot his brain. “Hob,” Dream says, cringing internally at how breathless he sounds despite Hob being the one breathing heavily at his door. If the other man notices, he doesn’t comment on it. “It’s bloody hot outside,” Hob replies. He runs a hand through his sweat soaked hair and Dream has to clamp his jaw shut before he blurts out something stupid like “it’s bloody hot inside too”.

Soft:

From the Untitled sequel to A Dream for a Viscount

He wakes to sunlight filtering through the windows, soft and gentle. Hob is snoring peacefully next to him, a rarity as he is normally an early riser while Dream prefers to sleep in. Dream’s last night of heat had been his most fervent, and he blushes when he remembers how desperately he had begged for Hob’s knot, had even begged the alpha to stay inside him until they both fell asleep. 

Hold:

Continuation of Untitled Portrait of a Man (I Want to Obliterate Me)

Dream doesn’t expect Hob to show up for their final session. He has every right not to. When he had left Dream’s apartment last week, Dream had buried himself in his work and his sketches. He obsessively stalked the man's social media accounts and downloaded dozens of photos to use a reference in case he needed them to finish his project. In case Hob decided to not come back. The photos don't hold a candle to the real thing though.

Hurt:

From the Untitled sequel to Break Me, Shake Me

Johanna explains to the group gathered who Dream is, and why he’s agreed to help them. Though many of the group regard him warily, as they should, they all fully accept that he's yet another person that's been irreparably hurt by Roderick. Dream wonders what it is they see when they look at him. Roderick has not left him with scars, nor starved him. But there must be something in his expression because Dream catches more than a few pitying glances. 

Book:

Continuation of Untitled Portrait of a Man (I Want to Obliterate Me)

“So are you going to let me see what you've done so far, or do I need to wait for the finished product?” Hob asks, settling himself back on the lounge and looking far too comfortable. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get dressed, much to Dream’s chagrin. It’s not that he minds Hob’s company, but he’s so horny he might actually explode if Hob doesn’t dress and leave soon. “When I have something worth sharing, you will be the first to see it,” Dream replies, more curt than he'd intended. Hob doesn't seem bothered by his shortness though, he simply huffs in amusement before he stands and walks over to where Dream is sitting as he finishes some additional lines on his sketches. On instinct, Dream pulls his sketchbook close to his chest when Hob is close enough, and when he looks up, he finds himself staring at the most brilliant amber brown eyes he’s ever seen. He almost tells Hob to sit back down just so he can sketch them.

Scare:

Not found in any of my WIP documents (but I'm sure that'll change soon enough!)

Red:

Follow up to SnowBaz Dreamling shenanigans, requested by @bazzybelle

“ ‘m not drunk,” Morpheus insists. Hob snorts. “Sure, sure, and I had the queen of England over at my place this summer,” Hob jokes. “I’m serious!” Morpheus insists, huffing and puffing out his cheeks like a small child. It’s absolutely adorable, if not absolutely terrible for Hob’s balance. Morpheus’s cheeks and lips are both flushed cherry-red from the cold, the most color Hob’s ever seen on the other man since they met. It was a really good look on him. A very tempting look. “Pretty sure your boyfriend would agree with me,” Hob replies, reminding himself that no matter how cute and tempting Morpheus looked, Hob wasn’t a homewrecker. Even if Baz would have thanked him for him and written him a check for enough money to pay the rest of his rent and tuition for the rest of the year.  Morpheus furrows his brow. “Boyfriend?” he asks in a confused state. “What boyfriend?”

Hip:

From the Untitled sequel to Break Me, Shake Me

“What do you like, baby?” Hob asks again. “Tell me, I’ll give it to you.” Dream wants to say, look at me. Tell me you can't live without me. Instead, he places a hand on the alpha’s chest, pushing him back and off of him until Hob is sitting on his ankles watching him, his eyes never leaving Dream’s. Then Dream turns and presents himself, bracing on his elbows and knees as he spreads his legs as wide as he can manage.   “Take me rough, just like this,” Dream whines. “I want to feel you so deep inside me, I forget everything else.” Hob growls and grabs him by the hips, before the alpha finally, finally does what Dream’s been fantasizing about for weeks and sinks himself into the omega’s cunt. 

Tree:

From Chapter 3 of Set the Night on Fire

“You need to leave,” Dream says, his voice low and dangerous as he hears the adventuring party  advance further into his territory. By his estimates, they would be at the bottom of the trail leading up the mountain in an hour.  “What? Why?” Hob asks, sitting up and now fully awake. Dream does not explain further, he simply grabs Hob by the waist, careful not to squeeze too hard on the soft human’s body, before he dashes out of the cave and jumps from the cliff, taking off into the chilly morning air. “What the fucking hell!” Hob yells as Dream carries them high above the trees, and as far away from the fast approaching humans as the bounds of his curse will allow. He cannot allow the humans to see Hob. He cannot allow them to think Hob is aligned with him. If they do, they’ll kill him, and Dream would not be able to stand it if he loses another human companion.

tagging @pellaaearien @bazzybelle @arialerendeair @blueberrymffn @beauty-of-nyx @tj-dragonblade @bruce-wayne-simp @delta-pavonis @lostelfwriting

Your words are: blue, rich, sky, jacket, and heart

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

So how are you gonna start the next arc like this?

//I knew I was going to get upset about it when the change was implemented, and as you can see by my toxic af messages previously, I was right.

//I've taken some time to think about it since then, and I need to just make a couple of statements.

//The ask box will remain open, but this will probably be the last you hear of me for a while until the day I announced I would start posting the next chapter of the story.

//As for what's going on, in the face of this new editor with it's 30 image limit completely fucking over my typical style and sequence of posts (for asks it's not a big deal, but for story posts and especially long answers, it's a problem to my entire setup, and as you can imagine, I am not ok with that) I have taken some time to come up with a plan going forward.

//First and foremost, I'm not going to stop writing just because the designers of this website lost 90 braincells as well as the nerves in their eyes and ears. As stupid as these changes are, I'm fully aware that there's nothing I can do about them, and I'm not going to stop this blog's progression, or stop answering asks just because of these difficulties.

//In the past, when these changes happened, I overreacted and complained like a child. I apologize for those instances, and I've worked towards bettering myself. That doesn't mean I can't still take issues with these changes, because they are stupid, but don't let my misdirections as a human being affect your enjoyment of my writing. I will keep this blog going.

//Right now, I have come to a few solutions. Initially, I said I would move the story posts at least, to a different website. However, I retract that statement, because doing so would require my readers to sign up and create new accounts on totally different websites that they might not use for anything else.

//The CURRENT plan is that there are a variety of mods available on the internet that allows you to use the old Tumblr editor. If I can find one that bypasses the limit, I'll be golden.

//Failing that, as much as it sucks to think about, my only remaining option is to suck it up and use the new editor. As for the image limit, it may result in me having to split the story up into multiple different posts a day to get the full chapter done.

//The reason why I wished to avoid it is because with Tumblr's horrible navigation system, made WORSE by the current changes, is that it'll be hard to order all the posts together. I could repost my own posts to continue, but that also clutters the blog with meaningless posts, so I'm hoping to avoid it. Plus, it's only a matter of time before reblogs get hit with the "SHIT CHANGE" laser, so it's not a long-lasting solution.

//To make it a bit easier, if I do resort to this, I will be posting the link to the next part of each chapter in links at the bottom of each post. I will also be adding a #story tag on these posts to make them easier to find. I should have incorporated this a long time ago, but my slow dumb ass didn't think it was necessary.

//With all that said, if anyone has links to any useful mods, or any alternative solutions I could use, I am more than open to suggestions. So if you could leave those in either DM's or in the ask box, I would appreciate it. Assuming they work, you would LITERALLY be saving my life.

//And potentially the lives of other blogs like this one who are suffering because of this bullshit. I'll definitely be sure to share your advice to whoever may need it, like Aliza or Bubbles.

//Ultimately, there's no great solution to this, but this is the unfortunate position that Tumblr has put us in. And as much as I hate it, all I can do is take my licks and keep going.

//I want to take this moment to thank you guys for being such a supportive and kind audience. People like you are a dime a dozen, and I hope to continue to get your support for the foreseeable future.

//This story isn't finished yet.

-Mod

[noa-ciharu]

“I’m not one to share what is mine” with Seisub, please! 😎

Seishirou would 100% say that in canon given the right circumstances. Istg all prompts just screamed seisub. This is set in TB, 1.5k of mostly Seishirou's mental gymnastic. Fluff, humor and Seishirou-typical creepiness (and lack of self-awareness) along the way.

Possessiveness prompt - "I'm not one to share what is mine"

Some boy was hitting on his prey.

Seishirou hummed and leaned against school gate; took a puff and glanced at watch. Classes should end in around five minutes, safe to assume students were dismissed early. Scarcely ever did Subaru attend classes, always too busy with work of fell sick as result of same; so much for wanting to lead a normal life, it was stripped away from him before he even got a chance to taste it. In retrospect, Seishirou couldn’t recall the last time he waited for Subaru after school like this. Minor miracle if he knew any classmates at all.

But as it looked like classmates did know him. Or at least wanted to get to know him, given that boy’s persistency and overall nervous body language. Taking into account Subaru’s kindness, purity and overall attractiveness, someone was bound to notice him sooner or later. So no surprise some classmate of his decided to shoot his shot; it was normal after all, something high school kids do. Still, doesn’t mean Seishirou was pleased by that. Far from that, rather displeased in way he couldn’t pinpoint.

Another puff; another glance at the watch. Four minutes left. From this position Subaru’s face was concealed from, view but that allowed him to check out the wanna-be suitor better. Puffy brown hair, round cheeks, hints of youthfulness still palatable in gullible looking face. Definitely taller than Subaru but still significantly shorter than him; frame wider than Subaru’s but still smaller than his. All in all, boy looked decent, if a bit on attractive side; certainly would be good looking man once he passes twenty (if he passes twenty, Seishirou morbidly joked to himself; no need to jump the gun). Seishirou wondered if Subaru was aware of attractiveness of others or if it flew over his head just countless other things did. So much for being special to one who deemed everyone as special.

“A love rival huh?”, Seishirou murmured to himself, engrossed in scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

Certainly a break out of the ordinary. Intrigue rushed through veins, innate competitiveness and predator within him answering. Really, it would be amusing to watch someone desperately trying to hit on Subaru and Subaru remaining clueless for who knows how long. But for someone else to be constant presence in his prey’s life? No, Seishirou won’t allow it. Subaru was marked as his and Seishirou wasn’t one to share. After all, the more time Subaru spent focus on others the lesser were his chances of winning the bet; in that manner it would be disappointing to let his prey wander free given their illusionary relationship was on borrowed time. After all, only fates that await you are being smothered in my embrace or death. Any way you’re not escaping me.

Still, none of that explained bitter taste in mouth and tightness within chest. Surely, it would be blow to the pride to let another steal what was marked as his but there were zero indicators that would happen; he played his cards right with his prey, it would make no sense for Subaru to go for a dime a dozen. Nonetheless he was bound by bet’s rules, hence if Subaru decided to be with someone else for remaining three months there’s be nothing fitting kind vet persona he could do but accept it. Perplexing feeling, definitely not delightful one. Seishirou glanced at his watch; one minute left.

He supposed a charade would be due; goofy one filled with fake lament and how he’s not suitable for Subaru’s affections. Tale old as time, play rehearsed and executed far too many times. Yet Seishirou didn’t feel like put up that campy pretense this time around; why so when opportunity was perfect, solved everything in most elegant way possible, he couldn’t pinpoint. Peculiar for him to not be fully aware of what dwelt within no other than himself; subtle irk lingering behind mirror of subconsciousness. To say he was peeved would be too much of an exaggeration, but when reason behind one’s mood shift posed an enigma to no other than oneself, then -

~♫ Ding ding! Ding, ding! ~ ♫

Ah, time ran out. Saved by the bell indeed.

Seishirou took final drag and dowsed cigarette on school’s gate. Time to put that kid in his place. As well as bring all nonsensical mussing to epilogue it should have reached eons ago.

He pushed his way through group of students then strolled right towards Subaru; hunter to the prey. Subaru didn’t notice him but other boy did; good, just like Seishirou intended. He tilted head to side and glanced over Subaru’s shoulder, apprehensiveness and puzzlement more than evident. Looks like he possessed sense of danger, unlike certain someone.

“Excuse me”, he interrupted sternly and positioned himself directly behind Subaru. Before Subaru could turn around Seishirou wrapped arm around his waist and gripped left wrist.

Gasp, followed by a flinch. Subaru tensed within his arms, whole body rigidified; nonetheless he didn’t try to break free. Good, do give in. Allow me to put my claim on you.Other boy appeared dumbstruck, eyes wide and expression one resembling dejection.

Seishirou brought Subaru back against him and raised captured hand above head. Glared directly into boy’s eyes and pressed kiss to center of Subaru’s gloved hand. Within his mind inverted pentagrams came to life.Mine.

“I’m not one to share what is mine”, he hushed into Subaru’s hand, eyes never leaving his rival’s.

One needn’t be a genius to understand the message; no, not solely one of not to mess with his property (really, Seishirou made that crystal clear) but one of eminent danger. Boy’s expression was mixture of stupefaction, fright and traces of anger, but he knew better than to express the last one. Clever of him. Seishirou smirked predatory; concealed grin with another kiss to Subaru’s knuckles. Disappointment in a way, he was eager for the battle and competition, something to reflect back at him and pose a challenge; not to have his opponent back down before fight even began. No matter, at least his prize was safely secured; quite content being held and shown off.

“Seishirou-san!”

Ah, looks like his prey regained allegorical consciousness. Even through gloves he could feel heat of Subaru’s skin; he has to have outshone a traffic light by now, Seishirou noted with faint amusement. Subaru twisted in his arms and tried to look at his face; Seishirou loosened the hold a bit. Then once Subaru took a glance at his face he froze once more – right, he was fixating other boy with stern look, one more appropriate for his real self than kind vet persona. No wonder it threw Subaru off loop. But he neither commented on that nor fought for freedom. Interesting.

Enough time passed for message to set in. Eventually Seishirou released hold over Subaru’s hand and waist; it took Subaru couple of seconds to actually step out of embrace. He shyly glanced up and – ah, that flushed face and doe eyes, he really had no clue how alluring he looked. Seishiou’s gaze fell onto quivering lush lips, desire to scoop in and steal a kiss overwhelming.

Never one to give in to anything but own will, Seishirou resisted the temptation. Instead he hooked arm around Subaru’s shoulders and drew towards himself again. Once more Subaru blushed red as cherry and stuttered; once more he yielded without complains. Your passivity speaks louder than any of your words could do.

Seishirou gazed down into Subaru’s eyes and softened his expression. “Just letting your friend know you’re off limits”, he joked but kept voice firm. Subaru groaned and hid face between palms, mostly out of embarrassment. But never once did he protest to being refereed as Seishirou’s; never once did he protest to possessive touch and being claimed.

Swift glance to his almost rival, then smirk sent his way. Boy appeared frightful; took a step back and murmured rushed goodbye to Subaru. Then basically ran away with tail between legs. Laughable ending really, he really scared the boy for life. Maybe he overdid it. No heed, lesson needed to be learned and that boy should be happy he learned his at barely any cost. Pride swelled within chest, sadistical triumph rushed through veins. Hunter within him satisfied, sense of domination. Why so when assassinations were million times higher stakes than chasing a teenager boy away, Seishirou couldn’t fathom; of no account, he reveled in claiming what was his.

For a heartbeat more Seishirou observed his ex-rival (he had a hunch this boy would think twice before approaching Subaru anytime soon, if ever) leave, then turned gaze back to Subaru. Bashful expression, doe eyes and blush ever-present but there was also shy smile on lips. Seishirou felt corners of own lips curving, smirk finding way back to his face. Pride turned into utter triumph, possessiveness soaring within chest.

Victory.

[isthishidden]

think you'd ever be comfortable enough to show off you wetting yourself, or ebb just the aftermath?

I've thought about it. I used to post videos on twitter of me wetting myself, among other things, but I'm not sure I want to risk it here, and lose my account. I don't think I'm hot enough for that risk to be worth it, especially as nobody would ever find me again. Horny trans girls are a dime a dozen, after all. I'd be lost in the flood.

[empresscarina]

Witches love coffee shopts

Short story

Goal: 1000 words

Date: 11/7/2022

Plot: In a magical world, a young witch goes in search of some good coffee.

In the magical kingdom of Slein, where dragons may work at cafés and engineers may write spellbooks, coffee shops are a dime a dozen.

Esmerelda McAlister waved goodbye to her last customer of the afternoon, a tall man with a tall hat and a long, flowy coat. He’d been looking for a remedy for a swollen knuckle, and the McAlister Mini- Clinic offered just the thing.

He’d left happy, Esmerelda was quite certain.

She dropped the forced smile – the customer service expression she’d grown quite used to wearing over the last year – and flipped the sign on the door. “Closed,” it would now announce to any passersby looking for their own quick remedies.

“Closed, closed, we’re closed!” she hummed to herself, fitting the words to a nonsensical, whimsical tune as she danced around the clinic putting out candles and locking up cabinets. It was a relief to be done with the clinic work for the day, for although Esmi quite loved it, she loved even more her weekly routine afterward.

Today was payday, and with the arcane credits that would’ve been deposited into her account that morning, she was on yet another mission to visit yet another coffee shop and try yet another cinnamon cappuccino.

Esmi locked the door to the clinic.

The sunlight danced gaily off the many-colored windows of Flagtow Street's buildings, dappling the cobblestones with red and blue and orange, and giving the hatters and fine ladies alike a sort of golden aura.

With a bounce in her step and a twinkle in her eyes, Esmi set off down Flagtow toward the grander parts of the city.

She was quite sure that "city" was a misnomer for the haphazard collection of shops, mansions, hovels, towers, medical institutions, and apothecaries, but someone at some point had said it was a city, so now of course everyone called it that.

Jansen's Joes passed her by on her left, across the street, its candled windows and live music creating a welcoming, relaxing atmosphere. Jansen's was a lovely place - Esmi had been there at least twice in her explorations of the city-not-city of Slein. Only a block or two later, Cornelia's Cappuccino's and Cupcakes appeared to her right, with pretty ivy and golden lettering over the doorframe. Cornelia's was closed at this hour - she was usually open in the mornings and evenings and closed during the midday hours.

Esmi turned left down Leaflet Avenue, toward a part of town she hadn't much explored.

"Hello!" she greeted a handsome stranger, "Do tell, where could I find a small coffee shop?"

"Why, there's one right back around the corner, miss," said the stranger, gesturing back the way Esmi had just come.

"Oh no," she replied, "Is there another down in this direction? I've already been to quite a number of coffee shops back that way."

"I'm afraid I can't stay," said the stranger, suddenly seeming to grow pale. He hurried away before Esmi could say another word.

"How strange," she thought. How odd that he should find her question almost... disconcerting.

Esmi brushed it off with only a little bit of annoyance and carried on down the lane. She passed by bookstores and apothecaries and two or three flower shops, each one with its own greeter harkening her to come see the store. She threw a pleasant smile to each and said she really must be on her way, hoping to come across the new coffee shop all on her own.

But the sun was sinking, and she realized it must now be long past the early afternoon when the McAlister clinic closed its doors.

Esmi was worried she might not find her way back in the dark, and she was no longer willing to spend time on her honestly egotistical exploration.

"Young madam, come see our flowers!" said a greeter a few steps ahead of her. The greeter was a young man with black hair pulled back in a short, thick braid, and a rather boyish face.

"I can't stop for flowers," she said, "but would you help me find a new coffee shop? I've been to all the ones back on Flagtow street and I am looking for somewhere new, perhaps down in that direction?" Esmi motioned toward the east, where the evening dark had already begun to eat up into the sky.

As oddly as with the stranger before, the boy's face dropped a bit - "Oh, that don't seem wise at this time of evening," he said cryptically.

Esmi huffed, and stubbornly continued down the street, not passing a second glance at the boy.

Now, perhaps she was being foolish - after all, if the locals seemed to think it was unwise to go down this way, perhaps she would be well advised to listen. But Esmi was stubborn more than anything, and her meager paycheck allowed only for necessities and her once-a-week coffee exploration - she would not have her treat taken away from her.

The darkness rose up quickly as she continued east, now on - what was it? - Nightfall Lane. A whiteish fog drifted into the air, bringing with it a slight chill and the smell of lavender and fresh laundry.

At long last, she found a little cafe she'd never been to before - The Little Spoon.

"What a delightful name!" thought Esmi, taking in the quaint brick walls and wooden signage, the wicker seats and glass tables arranged out front beside large pots of little flowers and spilling ivy plants. Torches were stuck into the plant-pots, surrounding the entrance to the Little Spoon with a homey golden glow, like a bubble of welcome in the calm, dark night.

"Hello!" greeted the young woman by the door, a tall, pointed hat upon her head and a collection of many brass rings on her fingers. "May I welcome you to the Little Spoon, m'lady?"

"Oh, please," Esmi replied, smiling at the quaintness and old familiarity of the greeting, "It really looks so lovely." The young woman's smiled widened, and Esmi saw it was a genuine smile - this woman liked her job it seemed. Or was just having a particularly good day. 

The woman led Esmi inside and sat her down at a table, complete with a little candlelamp and a book charm - those could read your energy and give you a book recommendation if you asked politely (but you must ask politely, Esmi remembered from school, for they were rather temperamental).

"Our server, Raphael, will be with you quite soon, m'lady," the greeter smiled, and Esmi noted the sharp-looking incisors. Artificial, perhaps, or magically enhanced. Or perhaps she wasn't quite human.

The moment passed, and the woman walked away, leaving Esmi to enjoy the atmosphere of the cafe alone for a moment.

Petunia will just love to hear about this place, she thought, half planning out the letter she'd write to her cousin that evening.

After all, she thought, as the server, Raphael, come up and took her order, complete with his own set of curious brass rings, this place reminded her very much of home, but in its own, unique sort of way.

Esmi sipped her warm cinnamon cappuccino, her own curious brass rings cold compared to the hot drink in her hands, and smiled.

After all, she thought, as the server, Raphael, came up and cleared away her empty cup, witches loved to explore little coffee shops. Result: 1260 words

[twilightprince101]

That's right, we got TWO Bugsnax OCs!! This fandom/game has lots of potential for stuff and has really been bringing out my creative juices! So allow me to introduce to you Gramble Gigglefunny's punk ex-childhood friend, Skatey Skitterlock!

Skatey and Gramble used to live in the same neighborhood when they were younger. Because of her personal life and being exposed to the world from a young age she's always been the rebellious type. She fights for the right stuff and does her research, but tends to do it in a more... direct manner, as she sees that as the most efficient way of getting her point across.

She and Gramble were reasonably close back when they were kids, Skatey helping bring out his more adventurous side, but after accidentally landing him in hot water with his family the two fell apart. Now, after years of being on her own, she finds out that Gramble accepted an invitation to Snaktooth, and decided to try and follow him to make amends and reconnect.

Once again below is an interview following a layout prompt from @cosmicheartz, so go check them out and feel free to shoot an ask if you're interested! I'm hoping to do more with her in the future!

Who are you? Name’s Skatey Skitterlock. I’m uh, a lead protest activist.

( What kind of things do you protest for? ) Oh you know: preventing the hoarding of cash, homeless’ rights for living, ensuring corporate fuzzhats stay in their lane, the usual.

( Does that bat have anything to do with the ‘protest?’ ) What can I say? Grumps are a lot more willing to listen with a bit of ‘encouragement~’

Why come to Snacktooth island? I’m sure you’ve met Gramble by now? You know, smaller guy, lives in the barn, a little too into the walking food? Him and I actually go back a bit. We fell out of touch a while ago, so when I heard he was going to this little island getaway, I decided to tag along to catch up!

( Gramble never mentioned you when saying why he came. ) He didn’t…? Well, my decision to come along was a bit last minute, I did come in one of the later boats when the island had open invites. He was caught a bit off guard when I first showed up, but we’re, somewhat cool now.

( Why did you and Gramble stop talking? ) ...look I know this is just how you do things, that this is your job, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped while you’re ahead, alright? I think you’re smart. Don’t prove me wrong, for your own sake.

Thoughts on bugsnax? They’re… okay I’m just going to be frank with you: I think they’re weird and I don’t like them. I hate how they skitter around, it’s freaky how they talk without mouths and the whole transforming thing is just… Eugh. Shelda had the right idea trying to ward people away from them, I don’t understand why anyone would want to eat them, much less treat them like pets.

( Aren’t Bugsnax the only food source here? ) Not entirely. There’s some actual fish farther out in the ocean if you look hard enough, plus the sauce that Wambus grows. It’s actually how Gramble and I manage to stay alive on this grump-forsaken island. Troubleham and I even have an agreement: hang out around his crop to scare off Snax, then Gramble and I get first sauce pickings.

( Bugsnax are scared of you? ) Bash an entire population of white strabbys into mush and I think anyone would be.

Why did you leave town? I left soon after Gramble did. After the whole incident with Wabus I knew he’d probably need someone watching his back. Especially when I realized that Wiggle tagged along.

( What’s up with Wiggle? ) To give an extremely condensed version, I’ve noticed how she eyes Gramble’s pets. As much as I’m against the whole thing Gramble has going on, they’re important to him. Gotta give him some space to work though stuff, and that means keeping them out of that has-been’s maw.

( What stuff is he working through? ) *Quiet growls, alongside the patting of a metal pat.*

Any info on Lizbert? Peh, Liz. Honestly I don’t know what the other grumps decided to follow her here. I’ve met people like her in my business, and trust me when I say, she just brought everyone out here to make herself feel better.

( What makes you think that? ) Well let’s consider the facts here: She recently got labeled a fraud from her Grumplantis debacle, she drags pathetically weak grumps to an island where nobody has come back from, and--despite the fact it could’ve made things easier for everyone--she never bothered teaching anyone else how to catch Bugsnax. Do I need to spell it out for you?

( I do need your opinion on the record actually… ) Sigh. She put herself as the only food source on this entire island, making everyone here depend on her. All Lizbert did was create a problem only she could solve. Why do you think everything fell apart the moment she vanished? She’s no brave adventurer, she’s just another dime-a-dozen big shot looking to stroke their own ego, nothing more.

( What do you think happened to her? ) I overheard Cromdo talking about how Lizbert might’ve stolen the boat and dragged Eggabell along. As much as he annoys me, I don’t think he’s too far off. From my experience, when people in power are put under pressure from those below them, their first instinct is to turn tail and run, even if it means selling out the people you claim to care about. I don’t know when we’ll see those two again, but I promise that when I do, it won’t just be her tusks being broken.

That’s all my questions Skatey, you can put down the bat now. Yeah yeah, I get it, I’m not the nicest Grump in town. But honestly, somebody on this island needs to hold those two accountable. What Lizbert did was immature and really hurt people here, her own friend probably the most. The poor guy really idolized her and does nothing but try and care for others, then the minute things turn south she abandons him!

I respect Filbo's attempts to keep everyone together, but after trying to chase after Liz for so long he barely sees anything in himself. Somebody needs to be angry on his half, so it might as well be me. It's the least I can do for him.

[wolffyluna]

Hi, I'd love to know your drow OC's backstory. I've finally started to read about drows and made my first drow OC last week, so now I'm loving them.

Hello!

Before I get into the backstory, I have to note that this character isn’t from any one DnD setting, and the setting he’s from is kind of a high speed mishmash of various settings. So there’s probably a few things in his backstory that won’t fit eg the Forgotten Realms settings.

Also he still doesn’t have a name. Woops. He shall be, for the purposes of this, referred to as The Currently Nameless Drow, or TCND.

He was born in a reasonably sized drow city, to an accountant mother, a bodyguard/guard-of-valuable-stuff father, and later on had a younger sister. His family were not the lowest of the low. They were vassals, not slaves. And they were not the poorest of the poor--

--but they were pretty dang poor. There was always running right along the edge of being able to buy food (which can be quite expensive in the Underdark) and pay their taxes to the noble house they owed fealty to (which was the one thing stopping them from becoming slaves.) Guards are pretty dime a dozen, unless they were particularly skilled, and while his father wasn’t unskilled, he wasn’t skilled enough/didn’t officially go to the fighter’s school to be able to command a higher price for his services. And accountancy also wasn’t spectacularly paid. And it was dangerous work-- no House wanted to be caught cheating their tithe to the Church of Lolth, but they all did it. So an accountant was in the dangerous position of knowing the real numbers, and having to convincingly create fake ones. If they screwed up, the House they worked for would throw them under the bus.

When he got older, his dad taught him how to be a guard. But he also taught him a few things under the table: worship of Vhaeraun (god of drow men, and also ‘oh my god Lolth is a disaster, we gotta fix this’) and how to steal. (His mother...she wasn’t a devout Lolthite, but she was of the opinion ‘better the deity you know’ and had a low opinion of Vhaeraun. So her husband took steps to make sure she never found out he or her son worshiped him.) The learning how to steal was so that they could stay on that ragged knife’s edge of both being free and full of food. 

One of the things you learn as a drow thief is that if you can, you never steal from a noble house. And regardless of that, you never steal from a noble house on behalf of another noble house.

...but, shortly after The Currently Nameless Drow reached the age of majority, his father was injured. Not in a way that couldn’t heal, but he’d be out of work for a few months unless he was magically healed. ...they very much couldn’t afford magical healing. They very much couldn’t afford ~1/3 of their money making capacity to be out of action, either.

TCND took a contract from a noble house, to steal a magic item from another noble house. He knew that, at least in common understanding, that was a bad idea-- but the amount of money would cover magical healing. He wasn’t in a position not to take it.

He managed to steal the item, and give it to the noble house that had contracted him. But he’d failed at leaving no trace.

There’s a reason you never steal from one noble house on behalf of another. When you steal for commoners, it’s hard for them to throw you under the bus if you get caught. But nobles? Oh boy, they have a  great stock of buses to throw you under.

TCND fled to the surface. He had two noble houses baying for his blood, and he figured that’s how far away he’d have to get before he became more effort than it was worth it to catch. And sure, there was a great risk he’d die before he got to the surface-- but a great risk is much better odds than the certainty if he’s stayed in the city.

He fled. He reached the surface.

He had no money. No friends, community, allies, anything. No one trusted him as far as they could toss him. He didn’t speak the language.

He had two skills: fighting for people, and stealing things. And when you can’t speak the language, and even if anyone could talk to you, they probably wouldn’t hire you-- you have to steal.

(Things may have gone different if he’d ran into any other worshipers of Vhaeruan around this time. But he didn’t.)

So he ran around panickedly burgling things. (In the middle of the night, because the Moon was really bright, and his eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to that, let alone the gods-damned Sun.) And he was stressed and panicked all the time, and the way that surface houses were designed different kept messing him up, and maybe the noble houses were still following-- in short, he was stressed. And he got sloppy.

...to the point that he fell down the stairs of the house he was burgling, and woke up the occupant.

The occupant was a cleric of the dwarven god of travel. Who was probably more thrilled to find a slightly panicked drow trying to steal his silverware than he should be.

Recently, he had been part of a drunken theology debate that turned into a bet.

The other cleric believed that once someone acted habitually evil, even if they were only slightly evil or only doing evil because of outside forces, it was incredibly difficult for them to break the habit and become good. Those raised in drow societies, or had tieflings that had slightly-evil tendencies fiendish blood tended to give you, were, in their drunken words, fucked.

But our cleric didn’t think that. Breaking the habit of evil wouldn’t be easy, no, but it would be easier if someone was only slightly evil or coerced into evil. With time and attention, it would be quite possible for drow and tieflings and other people raised in evil societies to become good. They just needed to form the habit! And he would -*hic*- prove it... with an adventuring party! Yes, an adventuring party. Those he brought into the party would be stuck with him over a long period of time, and adventuring would be a good way to help build new good habits.

...when they sobered up, the other cleric hadn’t forgotten the debate, but didn’t care about it. But our cleric still did. And the adventuring party idea would be a good proof of concept... He kept an eye out for likely candidates, and he’d found a few. A tiefling sorceror trying really hard to pretend to be an elven wizard and failing badly (though she probably barely counted. She was a tiefling, yes, but she didn’t seem the habitually evil.) A grumpy bard, who’d escaped the fall of the local Wannabe Evil Overlord’s microsociety (now, she could be called habitually evil, so that was a good start... but she had also been rescued by a paladin who’d started some of the work of breaking those habits, so she wasn’t exactly a fresh case.)

But now, tangled in his stair bannisters, he‘d found a bona fide, raised-by-drow drow, who was currently in the middle of an arguable evil act (ie, stealing from a good aligned cleric.)

So TCND ended up joining the part of complete misfit weirdoes. And our cleric’s plan-- worked? Especially for TCND. Because when he wasn’t having to steal and kill from people to survive, when he had the spare resources-- he wanted to help people. And he wanted people to not ever be in a position where they had to steal and kill and double cross to survive, and he wanted to help that come to pass.

(Along the way, he ended up converting to the worship of Eilistraee (the goddess of good aligned drow, and also freedom.) He lost his liking for Vhaeraun the more time he spent away from the Underdark, especially Vhaeraun’s goal to make drow the rulers of the surface. And he appreciated Eilastraee’s belief in free expression, because he feels things deeply and enthusiastically, and likes not having to keep that under wraps like he used to do in the Underdark.

Though he has Opinions about the branches of Eilastraee’s church that don’t let men be clergy, even though he has 0 interest in being a priest. He’s glad his ‘local’ church does let men be priests.)

(He also later met a drow wizard that made magic items and sold them, who was pretending to be a non-drow elf (somewhat more effectively than the tiefling sorceror, too.) They hit it off fairly well, occasionally met each other at church does as well-- and ended up falling in love. Their currently affianced, and when TCND isn’t adventuring, he’s helping with the shop.)

[deez-no-relation]

Vibrator anon here - I'm sure with the flowers he just picked which ever ones looked nice, also taking her preference into account and what's in season. I wouldn't scrutinise too much. 😉 Artisisan flower bouquets are a dime a dozen here and you can even pick up posh expendive ones at train stations. It's an easy gift that looks impressive, ticks all the boxes and doesn't require much effort. Speaking as someone whose had to purchase loads at work on behalf of my bosses for their wives. 😉💋

Interesting! I hope he got her more than just flowers. 

[outerbankies]

i saw on some obx update account that people are saying drew might not be a series regular after s3 and bestie i'm scaredd bc where else am i gonna find another broken white man with shitty morals to simp for 😫

🥲 not to manifest anything but i’d rather they just murder him instead HAHA

but bestie you’ll be just fine! characters like that come a dime a dozen and i’m sure drew will be in other stuff