#Judgemental Sampling

[selfindulgentcompetition]

TRYING AGAIN WITH CLEARER WORDING. PLS READ BEFORE VOTING

*Meaning: When did you stop wearing a mask to a majority of your public activities? Wearing a mask when you feel sick or very rarely for specific events/reasons counts as “stopping”

[More Questions Here]

[deathemayor]

idk this felt like an interesting question in my head so might as well make a Poll!!!

in an fe game on the final map, do you take the time to reset to save a character, even if you won’t be needing any of them once the map is complete?

there are probably some other options i failed to consider, so feel free to elaborate in the tags/replies (and just pick which option best relates to your choice)

[smoralcoral]

Ramblings about creating fat characters and fandom hypocrisy

So I've been on a kick of drawing, or otherwise redesigning, a bunch of characters now that the Inktober fatigue has gone away. And one of the things that I came up with involved a goth older sister as one set of a duo. Very stereotypical "deadpan older sister," right.

But then I started rotating that in my head as I was creating her design, and I realized that a lot of people would find her unlikable, because her design isn't stereotypically thin and attractive. Think of that marvel book about the goth daughter of Starfire - it was an average middle grade book that was ripped to shreds because it had a fat (and, by the way, who wasn't a "woah big tits" fat either. She had an apple body shape as opposed to an hourglass, which definitely contributed imo) goth person who was a little standoffish.

And I dunno, I just think it sucks that the standards are so much higher for those who don't fit the beauty standard. And I think it's hypocritical that people will complain about lacking nuance in characters, but then immediately flip out when a woman (or God Forbid, A FAT WOMAN) is anything less than a sweet pristine angel. And this applies to other marginalized identities as well!! Let people other than straight, white, able - bodied, skinny, cisgender guys be morally grey!!!

[penis-essay]

im very curious about something..

[proto-language]

about to smack my head against the wall in despair at trying to write an email to a guy to ask him whether he would supervise me for a research master's. so many stupid little things i'm apparently doing wrong. why do i have to prove to this guy that i know his work and its relevance to mine - would i be fucking writing to him if i didn't?

[1nm2]

.

[weepingpussywillowtree]

Curious how common my habits are given that that makeup post is always going around. This is not meant to be a value judgement in any way on makeup wearing, but I want to see how much of an outlier I am and yes I know Tumblr is not a representative sample.

*never as in actually never. I don't wear makeup for special occasions or casually. If I ever get married, I will do it bare faced. I don't play around with makeup at home. I don't even own mascara or tinted lip gloss. Just mascara or concealer is still makeup for the purposes of this poll.

Feel free to discuss your feelings and thoughts on makeup in the notes. Do you love it? Hate it? Tolerate it for your job? Wear for special occasions only? Use it to cover something or accentuate something?

[brainscrems]

I’m curious, so here’s a poll for queer jews. Non-jews don’t vote, but reblog for sample size and visibility please. Note that this is talking about average, it is expected some would be worse/better in various contexts, but try and think of this in terms of how they affect your life and in terms of which you are more concerned by and make a judgement call.

[why-and-or-bother]

Reblog for sample

[deen-djarin]

Soft Reins — Day One

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Groundskeeper/Rancher! Joel Miller x City Girl! Reader

Summary: Her family made her want to leave, Joel made her want to stay.

Tags: Age Gap (50s/20s), No Outbreak, Familial Tension, Mentions of infidelity, Snobby and judgy family

Word count: 3.6k

a/n: HELLOOOO okay so this is my second fic heheh and i’m hoping i can stick with it and actually finish it because its definitely a huge learning curve for me lol. i’ve had this idea brewing in my head for months and i’ve gotten to the point where i just gotta write it. tysm for my beta readers ily all and also ty for reading this!

Summer 2025

You're behind the wheel, cruising down a winding road framed by towering pine trees—a striking contrast to the usual backdrop of glass and steel skyscrapers. Ahead of you, a line of sleek, high-end cars snakes along the road, unmistakably belonging to your wealthy, highbrow extended family.

Jackson Hole, Wyoming isn’t the kind of place you'd expect to find people like them—it’s a little too middle-of-nowhere America. And yet, that’s exactly what draws them in.

Nestled in the valley is a ranch—but not your typical one. This is a luxury dude ranch, “Silver Spur Ranch” where the wealthy come to sample the Western lifestyle. Well, sort of. The real West usually doesn’t come with spa treatments and gourmet meals. Still, there are horses, rustic cabins, and sweeping mountain views which are pretty close enough for them.

“Noah would love this,” your mother sighed, gazing out at the sweeping valley.

Your neck stiffened at the mention of his name.

“Can you not bring him up, please, Mom?” you murmured, eyes locked on the winding road ahead.

“I can’t help it, hun. He became the son I never had,” she replied, throwing up her hands in mock surrender.

“Well, he’s not. And we’re not together anymore,” you said, sharper now. “So I’d really appreciate it if you could just... let it go.”

She fell silent—not in compliance, but in calculation. You knew her too well to believe otherwise. She was building her next line, rehearsing it in her head like a lawyer preparing closing arguments.

“I just don’t get it,” she finally said, her voice soft but edged. “You were with him for what, five years?” A beat passed before she pushed forward again, “Have your father and I not set a good example for you? Even your grandparents—fifty years, happy as ever! And you gave that good man up just because—”

“Cheating is not a just because reason, Mom,” you snapped, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles went white.

She waved her hand like she was swatting a fly. “Well, no, of course not. But Noah is a good man. He just made a... lapse in judgment.”

You laughed once, hollow and humorless. “A lapse in judgement? A lapse is forgetting an anniversary. Not sleeping with someone else. For months.”

Your mother looked away, lips pursed, like she couldn’t quite argue but still didn’t agree. The silence between you thickened, stretching across the cabin of the car and the valley beyond.

“I’m just saying, honey, a man like Noah—he’s hard to come by.”

You grimaced inwardly. Of course she’d say that. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around your mother’s unwavering loyalty to him.

Sure, he was polished. He came from old money—more than your family ever had. He knew how to dress, how to charm your mother with just the right words at just the right moments. He wasn’t bad looking either. On paper, he was perfect.

But inside? He was hollow. And for the last stretch of your relationship, so were you.

The rot had been setting in for months, invisible at first, until it was all you could feel. Then came the final blow: you found out he had been cheating. Days before he proposed.

And still—he did it. With your entire family watching, he dropped to one knee, smiling like nothing was wrong. A last-ditch effort to lock you in before the truth could catch up to him.

But you said no.

And you walked away.

It hadn’t gone over well. There were whispers, long stares, your father refusing to speak to you for weeks. Your mother never stopped calling it a “mistake” you’d made in the heat of emotion.

But it wasn’t emotion. It was clarity. Maybe for the first time.

The trip was meant to celebrate your grandparents’ anniversary—fifty years together. A milestone that, given what you knew about how awful men could be, felt almost impossible to grasp.

The entire extended family would be there, and you could hardly wait to be cornered with questions about your recent breakup and failed engagement. For seven whole days. A real vacation.

To say the timing was less than ideal would be generous. You could’ve opted out—God knows you wanted to—but that would’ve only fueled the whispers. And despite everything, under different circumstances, you would have wanted to be there. You loved your grandparents. They were the rare ones in your family who didn’t judge, didn’t press. Maybe it was because, unlike their children and grandchildren, they hadn’t grown up with money. There was a softness to them that hadn’t been bred out by status or social games.

They were the reason you came. Not the charade. Just them.

The ranch finally came into view, peeking through the tall trees like something out of a movie. It had a rustic charm, but you could tell it had been carefully renovated—polished just enough to suit the tastes of its upscale clientele.

Your car slowed as you passed through the front gate and followed the long gravel driveway toward the main cabin. The second your tires came to a stop, you were already reaching for the door handle, eager to escape the tension that had been simmering in the car with your mother.

You stepped out and made a beeline for the trunk, popping it open and reaching for your suitcase. But just as your hand closed around the handle, another—larger—hand landed over it.

“I got this, sugar,” came a warm, slow drawl, thick with a Texas accent.

You froze.

He was close—close enough for you to catch the scent of sandalwood, sun, and flannel. You instinctively stepped back, your eyes scanning upward.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. The kind of man who looked like he actually belonged on a ranch. You caught a glimpse of his profile: strong nose, weathered skin, hair streaked with silver that matched the salt-and-pepper scruff along his jaw and mustache.

“Long drive?” his voice broke through your thoughts, low and easy.

“Huh? Oh—yeah. It’s, uh... pretty far from, well—everywhere,” you said with an awkward chuckle.

He didn’t laugh, but his eyes lingered on you for a beat—curious, unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached down and hoisted your bags, one in each hand like they weighed nothing.

“Welcome to Silver Spur,” he said with a small, polite smile.

And just like that, he turned and walked off, disappearing with your luggage before you could even think of a reply.

The main lounge buzzed with the energy of your entire family gathered together. The interior was stunning—tall ceilings draped in dark wood, a grand stone fireplace, and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a breathtaking view of the land. You stood by your cousin Amy, the one you were closest to growing up. You’d shared so many memories, but things had shifted a bit since she married and had a baby. You were still close, just not as much as before.

One of the staff passed around welcome drinks—icy cold lemonade. You accepted with a grateful smile.

“How are you holding up?” Amy asked, her voice full of concern. You sighed. “So far, so good. You?”

Amy leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Lily wouldn’t stop fussing the entire way here, and Justin was no help,” she murmured, glancing over at her husband, who was bouncing their three-year-old daughter on his lap. “He somehow always appears to be there when she’s calm, though.” Amy chuckled softly, and you followed suit, shaking your head.

A sound of glass clinking drew everyone's attention to the man standing on the small stage by the piano. He looked strikingly similar to the guy who’d taken your luggage earlier—maybe a bit younger. Next to him stood a stunning woman with dark skin and a warm, radiant smile.

“Howdy, y’all! Welcome to Silver Spurs Ranch!” he called out, his voice smooth and welcoming. “I’m Tommy, and this is my wife, Maria,” he gestured to the woman beside him, who waved her hand in greeting. “We’ll be your ranch hosts during your stay.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man from earlier walking toward the stage and standing right next to it on the corner. You couldn’t tear your eyes away once you realized he was there.

“You like him too, huh?” Amy whispered, leaning closer.

“What are you talking about?” you whispered back, your voice a mix of surprise and mock offense.

Amy giggled, eyes twinkling. “What? You’re free now!” She gestured to her family with a smirk. “I, on the other hand…” She trailed off, pointing to her husband and daughter.

“You’re being ridiculous. We just got here,” you scolded playfully, rolling your eyes.

“Hey, he’s hot, so…” Amy teased.

You cut her off, whispering, “Amy, shut up.”

She laughed quietly. “Alright, alright!” she relented.

After a brief pause, as everyone focused on the ranch hosts listing activities for the stay, Amy leaned in again. “I didn’t know Silver Spurs Ranch came with a silver fox cowboy,” she whispered.

You bit back a laugh. “I hate you,” you muttered under your breath.

“That one over there is my brother, Joel,” Tommy said, pointing to the man standing a little off to the side. Joel. The name felt just right for him. He offered a small wave before slipping his hands back into his pockets, his gaze scanning the room.

“You’ll be seeing a lot of him,” Tommy continued, a proud smile on his face. “He takes care of the land and will be leading some of your excursion activities.”

You couldn’t help but watch Joel for a moment longer. There was something about him—steady, grounded.

Amy leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “I gotta admit, he’s got that ‘I work with my hands’ kind of charm.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “You mean he’s got the ‘I wake up at 5 a.m. to ride horses and shovel dirt’ look?”

Amy grinned. “Exactly.” She looked back at Joel, her gaze lingering for a moment too long. “He’s definitely got that whole ‘silent, mysterious cowboy’ thing going on.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny that there was something magnetic about him. Not in a typical ‘movie star’ way, but in a way that made you want to know more. Maybe it was the confidence that seemed to radiate from him without ever needing to say much.

At that moment, Joel turned his head and caught your eye. His gaze flickered toward you briefly, almost like he was assessing you. It wasn’t a stare, just a quiet acknowledgment, but it still sent a little pulse of awareness through you.

Amy caught it too, her smirk widening. “Uh-huh. I see that look. He noticed you.”

“What look?” you asked, feigning innocence. You turned back toward the stage as Tommy and Maria continued talking, but your mind kept wandering back to Joel.

“Don’t act coy. He definitely noticed you,” Amy teased. “You’re going to have fun here, I can tell.”

You glared playfully at her. “Just because I glanced at him doesn’t mean I’m about to go on a horseback ride into the sunset with him.”

Amy let out a short laugh. “Not yet, anyway.”

Maria's voice cut through the conversation, bringing everyone's attention back to the front. "Alright, everyone, feel free to explore the ranch, or just take in the view. We know it's a long journey to get here so your rooms is ready, and dinner will be served in an hour."

As the crowd began to move in different directions, you felt a strange mix of anticipation and curiosity swirling inside you. You were supposed to be here to relax, but for some reason, everything—especially Joel—seemed to be pulling you in.

Amy nudged you with her elbow again. "So... what's the plan? You gonna go for it or just pretend you're not interested?"

You sighed, trying to hide your grin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, sure," Amy teased, "keep telling yourself that."

Dinner was set like something out of a magazine. A long, weathered farm table stretched down the center of the dining hall, dressed in ivory linens, wildflowers, and flickering candles that made the roasted dishes gleam like still life paintings. Your grandparents sat proudly at the head, fingers intertwined, laughing like they hadn’t seen fifty years go by. The rest of the family filled the table in loud, familiar clusters, the wine flowing too easily, the conversations layered over one another.

You were somewhere in the middle, boxed in by a distant cousin on one side and a sea of aunts and uncles on the other. You kept your head down, halfheartedly pushing food around your plate, bracing for the inevitable.

It didn’t take long.

“So… no Noah this year?” Aunt Debby asked, tilting her head with feigned casualness.

“Nope,” you replied, stabbing a perfectly innocent carrot.

“I figured we’d see him again. Didn’t you two usually take trips like this together?” someone else chimed in. A cousin’s wife, maybe—you didn’t bother to look.

“Not anymore,” you hummed, your hand curling into a fist beneath the table.

“That’s a shame. I really thought we’d be getting a wedding invite this year,” Aunt Debby said, swirling her wine with theatrical sadness.

“Well, there won’t be one anytime soon.”

Uncle Rick joined in without looking up. “Still can’t believe you let that one go. Good job, good family, good-looking.”

“Not good at staying faithful,” you muttered.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Aunt Debby asked, all syrup and fake concern.

You didn’t think before the following words that came from your mouth, you’re fed up by all the judgement coated with faux sugar coated concerns, You looked up. “I said, he cheated. For months. Before he proposed.”

The table fell quiet. Someone clinked their fork against a plate, a few chairs shifted.

Aunt Margaret recovered first. “Well... relationships are complicated. Everyone makes mistakes. Your mother and I both—”

“I know,” you cut in, turning your gaze to your mom. “You’ve made that very clear.”

The silence was heavier this time.

You folded your napkin, set it on your plate, and stood. The scrape of your chair on the wooden floor sounded louder than it should have.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you murmured.

“Oh honey, don’t be dramatic—” your mother sighed.

“I’m not. I just need air,” you said, sharper now, and without waiting for a response, walked out into the night.

The door swung shut behind you with a quiet thud.

You slipped off into the dark, wandering past the edge of the cabins until you found a quiet spot beside what looked like the horse stables. You needed to be somewhere out of sight—far from the dining hall, far from your family. Because after all that, you needed a smoke. And if anyone in your family ever found out, it’d be a full-blown intervention before sunrise.

From your pocket, you pulled out a small tin, flipping it open with muscle memory and placing a cigarette between your lips. You were just about to flick your lighter when—

“You know smokin’ ain’t allowed on this property.”

You jumped so hard the cigarette nearly fell from your mouth. “Jesus—fuck!”

You turned and saw him. Joel. Standing half in shadow, half lit by moonlight, looking more amused than stern.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, chuckling.

You let out a breath, your hand over your heart. “Yeah, well, you did.”

He nodded toward the cigarette. “You still gonna light that?”

You hesitated. “Can I?”

Without answering, Joel reached out and gently took hold of your arm, guiding you farther back into the shadows—near a thick row of bushes. Your heart stuttered a bit from the contact, the feel of his large calloused hand against your soft skin, and you were suddenly glad it was too dark for him to see the way your face flushed.

“Cameras,” he murmured. “You’re safe here. Go on.”

“Thanks,” you exhaled, grateful, and finally lit the cigarette. You took a long drag, the smoke easing something tight in your chest.

The night wrapped around you, quiet and still, save for the soft hum of cicadas and the slow rhythm of your breath. Joel didn’t move far—he stayed just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching the horizon like he had nowhere else to be.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, gentle. “Saw you stompin’ out here like you were fixin’ to do some damage.”

You laughed under your breath. “Might’ve, if someone hadn’t stopped me.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you in that steady way that invited you to keep going.

You sighed, watching the smoke curl upward. “They think I ruined my perfect life. That I threw it all away because I said no to a proposal.”

Joel tilted his head slightly, listening.

“He cheated on me,” you murmured. “For months. And then had the nerve to propose like nothing happened.”

Joel let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a real catch.”

You barked a laugh. “Yeah. All sunshine and rainbows, that one.”

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was a steadiness to him—like he knew how to be still in a way most people didn’t.

After a moment, he shifted. “Listen, uh… it ain’t really my business, but—sounds to me like you dodged a bullet.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Joel looked at you, earnest beneath all the roughness. “You did the right thing.”

You glanced over at him. “Thanks… Joel, right?” you asked as if his name hasn’t been echoing in your head eversince Tommy said them.

He smiled, soft and crooked. “Yeah.”

“And I’m—” you said your name, almost shyly.

He repeated it back to you, the sound of it low and unhurried as it rolled off his tongue.

You gaze up at the sky, the stars shining much clearer here than in the city. It’s mesmerizing—you can’t remember the last time you saw more than two tiny dots scattered above.

Slowly, you sit down on the grass, and Joel lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re gonna ruin that pretty dress,” he teases.

You smile up at him. “I don’t really give a damn.”

He grins at that, then joins you, sitting down beside you.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” you murmur.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m actually obligated to keep an eye on troublesome guests.”

You turn to look at him. His serious face slowly breaks into a smirk, and you chuckle softly. “Asshole,” you murmur.

Taking another drag of your cigarette, you sigh. “Must be nice, living out here, huh?”

Joel nods, eyes still fixed on the stars. “Gets real quiet. Makes it easier to think.”

You glance down, voice soft. “I could use a little of that.”

He looks over at you, expression unreadable for a moment. Then, quietly: “Then stay a while.”

You smiled to yourself and kept your eyes on the stars. The silence between you and Joel was comfortable, but there was something simmering beneath it—something you weren’t sure you wanted to acknowledge just yet.

“The stars are beautiful out here,” you murmured.

Joel let out a quiet chuckle. “Bet you don’t see many of those back in the city, huh?”

You shook your head with a faint smile. “Kind of forgot how many there actually are.”

“They’ve always been there,” you said softly, more to yourself than him. “Just hard to see when the sky’s all polluted.”

Joel hummed low in his throat. “That sounds like a metaphor for a lotta things in life.”

You turned your head toward him, a light laugh escaping you. “You always been this wise?” He grinned, subtle and a little self-deprecating, eyes still on the sky. “Nah. Just old.”

That made you giggle, the sound easy and real, and something in Joel’s expression softened. Then, without a word, he pushes himself to his feet and holds out a hand.

“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get you back before they send a search party.”

You hesitate, just for a second, then take his hand. His grip is solid and warm, and when he helps you up, he doesn’t let go right away.

You both stand there for a moment—closer than before, still caught in that soft, uncertain pull—before he clears his throat and lets his hand fall away.

“This way,” he murmurs, nodding toward the path.

You follow him into the quiet dark, heart beating a little louder than before.

Joel walked with you back toward the main cabin where the guest rooms were. You led him through the quiet hallways, the old wood creaking underfoot, until you stopped in front of your door.

“Well, uh… this is me,” you said, a little awkwardly, your hand hovering near the doorknob.

Joel nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Get some rest. Breakfast’s at seven,” he said, then added, almost hesitantly, “Me and Tommy are leading a horseback ride along the river tomorrow. If you feel like joining.” His eyes flicked from the floor up to yours, and for a moment, you swore he looked almost nervous.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Alright then. See you tomorrow, city girl.” He started backing away, slow and casual, and you turned to open your door. “See you tomorrow,” you murmured.

Just as he turned the corner, you called out softly, “Joel?”

He stopped and looked back, quick like he’d been waiting for it.

“Thank you… for tonight,” you said, meaning it.

He nodded once, that same quiet smile still on his face. “Anytime, sugar.”

Then he disappeared down the hall, and you stood there for a moment longer, heart just a little too full.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

a/n: thank you so much for reading guys <3 i know its a short one but i’m just laying out the vibes and tone of the series before we get to the good stuff on the upcoming chapters!! your feedback is greatly appreciated!! ily all

[mssorceressupreme]

Working Late | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: you got a new job at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and you’ve developed a strong attraction to one of your new bosses.

Warnings: boss/employee, age gap (ish), making out, shy reader (not a warning lol but yk). Actually it's kind of a sweet fluffy-ish one, might make a pt 2. with more smut tho idk

———

It all started with butterbeer. Ginny Weasley and you had decided to meet at The Three Broomsticks for a long-overdue catch-up. The amber liquid foamed in your mugs as you laughed about school, gossiped about classmates, and vented about our worries. But your laughter faltered as you stirred my butterbeer idly.

"I just don’t know what I’m going to do after Hogwarts," You confessed, keeping your gaze fixed on the swirling foam. "Everyone seems to have their plans lined up, and I’m… stuck. No job, no prospects, nothing meaningful."

Ginny cocked her head, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "You know, my brothers could use some extra help at their shop. You’ve heard of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, right?"

Your heart skipped. Of course, you’d heard of it. And of Fred.

"I don’t know your brothers that well," You mumbled, cheeks warming. Ginny waved you off, grinning.

"Doesn’t matter. I reckon they’ll like you, and I’ll put in a good word."

Unbeknownst to her, the mention of Fred sent your heart into overdrive. He was everything you weren’t—loud, confident, and irresistibly charming, well you had your own charms but his was just effortless. Not to mention your stupid infatuation with him.

You barely spoke to the twins at school, your shyness building a wall you were too scared to scale. Besides it kept you safe, from unwanted conversations, judgement and meaningless social interactions.

Still, Ginny’s determination left you little room to argue.

“Uh sure, thanks Gin.” You forced a smile, unsure of whether seeing Fred, let alone being in the same compound as him would help with your infatuation. This forced proximity might be the end for you.

It’s time to let go of him and move on, you mentally slapped yourself. Besides, he was a couple of years older than you, no way he’d go for you right?

———

The following week, you stood outside the shop at 8 a.m., shivering slightly despite the warmth of the sun.

To your surprise you actually got the job, Ginny managed to secure you a position. And after a quick interview with George last week, you found yourself rewarded the position of becoming an official employee of the store.

Great, you had misread the opening time—Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes didn’t open until 9. Just as you debated whether to leave and return later, a deep, groggy voice startled you.

"You’re early."

You spun around to find Fred Weasley standing behind you. He was taller than you remembered, his fiery hair slightly tousled, his jaw more defined. His eyes, sharp and glinting with curiosity, locked onto yours, and your stomach flipped.

"I, uh, thought you opened at eight," You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Fred smirked, his voice still husky from sleep. "Well, early bird gets the worms. Come on in, I can give you a quick tour."

He unlocked the door, holding it open for me. "Ladies first."

———

Inside, Fred gave you a whirlwind tour, his tone surprisingly serious as he explained the tasks. Stocking shelves, organising merchandise, assisting customers—it all seemed simple enough until we began working side by side.

"Here, let me show you," Fred said, reaching over your to grab a box from the top shelf. His arm brushed yours, sending a wave of excitement through your body.

The proximity was electrifying, and you found focus wavering. “These are our latest addition, love potions. We have yet to stock them on the display there,” He leaned in closer to you, pointing to the pink display near the entrance, “See that one, the pink stand there.”

“Do we get to sample one of the potions?” You teased, wanting to ease the tension.

He paused, turning to you, “Have someone on your mind for these eh?”

Your eyes grew wide, “Oh no no, no one at all, just wondering.” You forced a smile, mentally face palming yourself.

He smirked, then continued explaining to which you nodded slowly, listening attentively to everything he instructed.

“George was supposed to help bring these boxes up to my office but since he’s not here yet, ‘spose you could help bring them up.” Fred gestured to some boxes by the door, newly delivered packages.

“Yes sir.” You replied hastily, making your way to the boxes.

“Fred.” He chuckled softly, “Just Fred would do.”

One by one, you carried what seemed like never ending inventory into his office upstairs for him to stock check them, making sure the quality was up to par.

Finally, it was the last box’s turn to be brought up, as you were carefully walking up the stairs, the entrance swung open and George ran in, "Oi Fred, Ginny said Y/N would be starting today, have you showed her-"

Upon hearing your name, you whipped your head around, missing a step in the process, and tripping right outside Fred's office. The box fell on the ground, and out spewed the items, clinking and clanking on the floor. It was some mini metal boxes with assorted treats inside of them. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!"

The items scattered across the floor, and you crouched down hastily, picking them up one by one. Fred was in his office, rushing to your aid as soon as he heard the noise.

"Accidents happen all the time, don’t worry about it," Fred said, kneeling to help. Upon picking the items up, your hands touched, grazing each other softly and you froze.

His eyes locked onto yours, intense and searching. The air thickened with something unspoken, something undeniable, before a loud voice interrupted you. "Oh hey guys, sorry I was late, was caught finding the keys to me' office." George apologised, he saw the two of you kneeling on the ground, giving Fred a quick glance before darting towards you.

"Y/N! We meet again, I trust Freddie has shown you around. Come on down when you're done yeah, the shop's opening soon." George instructed before heading downstairs.

As the day wore on, you noticed whispers among some customers—girls your age, glaring enviously.

"She only got the job because she’s Ginny’s friend," one of them muttered.

"Why is she the only employee? If I had known, I would've applied too...obviously for George." The other one giggled.

"Whatever, she's not even that pretty, they probably hired her out of pity."

Fred happened to overhear their conversations, and his eyes shot daggers at the girls, but forced himself to remain calm, they were after all his customers. "Actually," he interjected smoothly, "she’s here because she’s a hard worker and great at what she does."

His words left you stunned. Had he been paying that much attention to you? You pretended to be busy with another task, acting as though you hadn't heard a word they said.

A few hours passed and boy, you were already tired, legs exhuasted from standing all day and arms from all the reaching, stocking, grabbing and the likes. How on earth did the twins manage to do this everyday, you wondered.

While restocking on a ladder, a mischievous kid aimed a Decoy Detonator at you, hoping to get trial some pranks with the samples provided.

The explosion erupted in your face, colourful sparkling fireworks crackling around you, causing you to loose your balance, "Merlin!" You panicked as you slipped, falling off the ladder. Before you could hit the ground, you felt a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

His familiar scent filled you, it was him. Fred.

You gasped, gripping his forearms. He pulled you upright, his hold lingering for a moment too long.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, but your pounding heart felt like it would bust right out of you at the rate it was beating.

Once he made sure you were alright, you carried on. Though the rest of the day was a bit dull as Fred was in his office doing paperwork, whilst George stayed downstairs entertaining the customers.

You could't help but think back to the situation moments before, the way he held you, his scent, his voice, Merlin this was not helping your crush at all. And it did not help that he looked so handsome in that all black suit he was wearing, ugh your mind began to wonder, but that did not hold you back from delivering great customer service.

"Thanks Y/N, have a good day!" A kid waved at you before leaving, and you waved back grinning.

"Enjoy your new gizmo!" You smiled with awe, among the devils, there were also the sweetest most angel-like children you came across in the store.

The next few days flew by, you quickly adjusted to working at the shop, your kind demeanour welcomed guests and made them feel right at home.

You barely saw Fred as he was buried in work, constantly in his office, but you learnt to live with it. After all, you were here to gain experience, not date your boss.

One particular night, you stayed back in the stockroom as there had been a surplus of inventory, and since you had no plans, you decided to help out as much as you could, sorting out new arrivals for the next week.

"Working late?" a familiar voice asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You shrugged, smiling. "Just wanted to get ahead."

He frowned slightly, feeling guilty that you had been overworking yourself. "How bout a reward then, say, dinner?"

"Dinner?" Your heart soared, but his next words tempered it.

"Just a casual, y'know thank you dinner."

Still, you agreed. ___

You walked to The Three Broomsticks together, you felt a bit upset that he kept a good distance from you, though he thought it was respectful, a part of you wished he stood closer.

At the restaurant, he pulled out your chair, playfully grinning, "M'lady." He teased.

"And what would the lovely couple like to have for dinner tonight?" The waiter asked and, as you were about to deny that you were a couple, Fred played it off and went with it.

"I'll have the steak and chips, and she'll have the fish and chips."

"Amazing, it'll take 10-15 minutes, have a lovely evening guys. What a beautiful couple you two make." The waiter complimented, before taking our menu's off us.

"You did not." You chuckled with disbelief.

"Did what?" Fred defended himself, raising his hands.

"Why didn't you say we weren't a couple." You laughed, shaking your head.

"And embarrass the poor lad? Not a chance, besides, what's wrong with that." He shrugged nonchalantly at the last bit, and you bit back a smile.

After dinner, Fred insisted he walk you home for safety reasons, "Can't have my best employee not getting home safely." He insisted.

"I'm your only employee." You retort, laughing softly.

"And the best one at that." He added.

The moment you reached home, he paused outside your door. For a moment, his gaze dipped to your lips, and you held your breath. Could this be it, the moment you waited for.

But he stepped back, murmuring, "Goodnight." Flashing a small smile before he headed home once you were inside.

---

The next day, you wore a skirt to work, wanting to feel more free, plus it was way too hot to be wearing jeans or pants. But of course, there was the underlying reason of wanting to catch a certain someone's attention.

As you arrive, George greeted you, his playful cheerful self did not go unnoticed. Fred however was quieter, sterner, and noticeably distracted. He brushed past you more often, his touches lingering but you shrugged it off, thinking you were imagining things.

"Hey Y/N, Fred's asking for you, he's up in his office." George informed you, while you were rearranging one of the messy shelves, you nodded and made your way to Fred.

You found him alone in his office, staring out the window.

"Fred?" You knocked softly.

He turned, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Shut the door."

You obeyed, suddenly nervous.

"Why are you wearing a skirt?"

"I thought it would be appropriate, given how incredibly scorching today's weather is." You replied, truthfully.

"Merlin, you don't know what you've been doing to me as of late." Fred sat on one of the leather couches in his office, rubbing his temples as he did so.

"I'm sorry, I can go change if you want-"

"No. It looks good on you, come here." He ordered, and you slowly made your way towards the couch where he sat, standing in front of him. "Bloody hell, you don't know do ya?" He eyed you up and down, his gaze exploring your figure.

"I’ve been trying to ignore this," he continued, "But I can’t..."

"Ignore what?" You whispered, your pulse racing.

"You."

His confession hung in the air, heavy and intoxicating.

"Fred, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you." You finally confessed. "Ever since Hogwarts...I just...figured I wasn't your type."

"You think I haven't noticed you before? Everytime you came to the Burrow, seeing you in the halls, always hanging with my sister. The wrong Weasley, dare I say. You have no idea how much I wanted to come in and sweep you off your feet. But you know, you, always into your books, always in your own world, I just-...and now seeing you again, Merlin, it's like you've got me wrapped around your finger again."

You responded by closing the distance, sitting on his lap, straddling him which earned a groan from him. Immediately, his lips captured yours in a kiss that was fiery, desperate, and everything you'd dreamed of.

You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands gripped your waist. His arousal was growing beneath you and you could feel yourself getting soaked just from this, all that pent up tension was getting released.

"I’ve wanted this for so long," You admitted breathlessly.

He smiled, his forehead resting against yours. "Me too love."

For the first time, the tension between you broke, replaced by something infinitely sweeter. ___ A/N: Might do a part 2, with more smut? Or how it's like at WWW now that they've established they like each other? Not sure yet hehe

(Update: check out Pt 2 here!! 🥰 )

[love-bokumono-fics]

Was looking through my fic history for the last year and noticed a lot of deleted fics as I was going through and it got me wondering.

This is a judgement free poll. I am genuinely curious. I included as many options as possible to cover a wide base, but there's always room for infinite nuance. Also wording is gonna be short because of character limits.

Reblog for sample size. Feel free to expound on the nuance in the notes. Y'all know the drill 💜

EDIT: Now with follow up polls! Check the notes 💜

[bisexualbaker]

You know what...

I am genuinely curious now! This is not a judgement thing (again, I am very much a "read and write what you like, fictional people can't be hurt in reality" person), I really do just want to know what's more popular.

Pick whichever one you prefer to read/watch/etc; consuming only, not creating. I may do a sibling poll that includes both creating and consuming after this one closes. If what you like depends on your mood, you can pick either the one that you gravitate to more often, or the one you feel more strongly about. If your preference is for really hardcore stuff that's consensual, vote Comfort.

My impression is that Hurt is somewhat more popular in fandom, because a lot of people really, really love how pretty their blorbos are when all beat up and crying and helpless, but that Comfort has more fans than you'd expect. But it could also be an Ideal Peach Ripeness situation, where Comfort is more popular, but fans of Hurt are just waaaay more rabid/vocal about it. Which is why I'm curious about it, to be honest!

Reblog for sample size etc etc.

Edit: For further clarification, all instances are assumed to have both hurt and comfort. Vote for your preference of which one has more screen time in hurt/comfort stories.

[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says…

Malleus + complicated + coparenting (modern!au, ~1000 words)

You never thought you’d stoop to this level- the dignified manager of a strip mall Spellphora reduced to this. Crying your eyes out to a telenovela with bad subtitles and an even worse plot. Totally freaking alone on valentines day. It’s your own fault, really. Maybe it’s all the karmic debt you’ve accumulated for working in a chain, or, maybe you need to manifest Malleus Draconia getting hit by a hoverboard harder! Bring on the subliminals, baby!!

That scandalously pretty (and formal in the same way a middle schooler with a briefcase is) Wand Topic goth held your teenage servicing heart and crushed it between his glossy acrylics.

You’re taking it back,, The hangouts, the free samples, and active use of your fucking email for anything but work! It’s all going in your flippy top Kuromi trash can (curtesy of he who shall not be named), and out of your stupid head!

Your notes app is full of amateur poetry and movie recommendations that you would never watch by yourself, because they’re all dumb and you hate it. You hate the whole five pages! But he made them good in the moment. With his cheating fairy makeup magic and inappropriately expensive earrings- he could make anything sound good. Why are all your situationships so profoundly dramatic and sad? Has no one heard of the casual fling to fifty year marriage pipeline??

At this point you wish he hexed you, then your insurance would fund some old fashioned retail therapy, but on your fourth Valentine’s Day alone it hits you. Maybe your shitty ex wasn’t that shitty. God, maybe he was right! All those burnt vapes gave him the clairvoyance to yell a prophecy at your kiosk before he stormed off with a barely safe amount of clearance lipgloss-

“You’re the problem”. (Subtracting the colourful language, obvi) And the only respite for your five month celibacy streak is the freezer burnt ice cream you’re shoving down your sorry gullet,, It’s not like it matters! If you get your way, he’ll never show his face again. As anyone in your position would, you sigh melodramatically into your teeny-tiny living room.

it feels so good that you dare doing it again, despite your uppity next door neighbours.

And the third one (which was going to be the best!) is cut off by a clunky knock at your storm door- it’s way too rainy to get mugged by the knee knocking cartel, but you open it anyways on the off chance Amazon has a gift for you. You cross your fingers for a hunky delivery man, ready to whisk you away from Netflix and mope!

But it’s not, because it just so happens goths are historically terrible at not moping- You look the soaking wet, insufferably sexy Malleus Draconia top to bottom in feigned judgement. From the tip of his embroidered Nurse Martens to the peak of his ebony horns catching rain like a Soda bottle to condensation, and back down to his hands cradling a travel crate like his life depends on it.

Damn, you’d still let him hit no matter what Cater says about his “Victorian girdle”..

“If I may join your evening to share it’s warmth with Gao-Gao, he would be quite grateful.”

And because you’re an aching hearted freak for wittle wizards (totally not to resolve your aching loins) (or the satisfaction of putting that self Defense baseball bat in action), you welcome the guys in with hospitality that would make Snow White weep

“Uh.. Duh! Sure, whatever. I have fresh towels. You probably still know where they are, haha..”

He gives you a grateful nod when you step aside, and the way he unfurls to full height after hunching over his precious cargo is always monstrously hot. You send yourself scrambling for the space heater (still very much vibrating from the inside, with a little ice cream crusted on your lip), no matter how embarrassed you are, Gao-Gao does not deserve to die from the cold! Malleus told you once the gecko intends on going to Valhalla, and you insisted he’s owed it for being such a good boy! (you’re also inclined to agree with any man that has a ninety degree jawline)

Gao-Gao nuzzles against your pinkie affectionately when you put some powdered feed into his crate. He ate three days ago- and you know that because you’re his pet sitter. Holding onto the little guy was easy when Malleus was away- but on pickup when his little brother showed up he thanked you. Said that Malleus didn’t have any other friends, and you couldn’t just leave him to the “adult loneliness” wolves.. So you hung out with him for awhile, and he only got cuter. That’s where it exploded in your face.

It was never his fault. You just got a bad case of the feels- on a little work party when you got hammered, Malleus took the brunt of it. Cater cheered you on in your sexless, drunken rage so well that you just blocked the guy,, And you have no idea why he’s here now.

“So,,, what’s wrong? Why’d you show up?”

“I understand I was unable to text your phone, but we had scheduled a “hanging out”, and now we can resume watching cinema! Gao-Gao is very excited with the prospect.”

You let the silence linger- and not to be mean, either. You’re just marinating in your drunk stupidity. Poor Malleus has no clue what’s going on! His own phone goes out all the time, and it’s not like you canceled, or even officially quit.. This is the worst. Not even your last breakup (pretty bad), or telling Cater that he was demoted (he literally asked to step down. Still sucked) measures up. THIS is rock bottom.

But, you’re used to being on the bottom. From scraping your way out of college only to land some mall-cop ass job better suited to someone in their teens, and all those infamously bad guys you’ve groveled to. Only Malleus (sweet, old man in a young body Malleus) bothered to spend the time reteaching you that you deserve to be spoiled- you deserve friends, and fun, and so many more pet sitting gigs with pintrestable animals.

You’re worth it. Even if it’s complicated, even if you can’t have him the way you want right now, you’ve got the rest of your life to pull it off!

(And to unblock him. That’s probably a good idea.) So for tonight you’ll enjoy the temporary simplicity, and have an unforgettable time with your best friends.

“Yeah! Let’s totally watch some “cinema”, Mally. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Ah! A Happy Valentines to you as well!”

God this is scary!!!!!!!! I’ve never done an event before, so please leave some comments abt your feelings with it! Much love, thanks for reading <3

(My amazing beta reader @/Echosofmortality helped SO much with getting this published!)

[idekkkjja]

Glorious blood,, (PART ONE) ˖⋆࿐໋ Ningning x fem!reader

♱ Warm liquid crawls down to your exposed skin, lazily painting it a shimmering deep red, it wasn't so beautiful. The sight, of her imprinted fingerprints left a mark upon you in its temporary possessiveness, reminding you and others of your status with her. Ning Yizhou, it all started with you purely handing out flyers to troubled people, an invite to the church. To those in need. And now you're on the harsh ground, helplessly shaking in dire of help, in her arms. You kept your promise. If she dies, you die. If you die, she dies. She kept her promise.

Heads-up: eng isn't my first language, mistakes gonna happen and sorry for that. Blood is obviously mentioned, very angst, toxic stuff... Ningning is a bad person, and you somehow are too. Wrong person, wrong time. Slight fluff, but there will be a happy ending they won't die.. dw. Got inspiration from a few fics and Sophia's recent cover in Katseye's booth. AND VIOLENCE AND BLOOD GONNA BE OBV MENTIONED.

Oh and this is just a sample of what I’m thinking of this series, consider this just an intro atp by how short this is than an actual part one. The real story gonna start from part 2. Hope u guys like it!!

𓂃⋆.˚ Confident invisible within your hesitant steps towards the area most were advised to not spare a thought for, your fingers clutched too tightly on your flyers in a reassuring gesture to your disturbed soul, it crumbled slightly. Somehow, the homeless you offered the papers out, willingly cooperated and looked forward to the welcoming warmth of the church.

Many warned not to even have a mere thought of casting a longing upon the devasted area, your fiery spirit held strong and stubborn, too determined on this task. Although, the confidence wasn’t visible in your demeanour, your steps were hesitant as you approached the streets with the papers huddled against your pounding chest.

Somehow, it was going well so far. Some of the others were arrogant yet not too unwilling to accept the tempting offer from your extended hands.

There were strange occurrences and incidents people could vividly recall here in a bad way, did it deter you? No, it just fueled you to continue your tasks.

Old ladies and men, groups of judgemental boys and snarky girls and such were common bypassers here. It was clear you were the odd one out in the dull crowds.

Sauntering upon the mud staining your old sneakers, you dragged yourself to places you could assume many people would be by, and you were right. The muffled commotion was heard, and your ears perked up in curiosity and concern. Cautiously, you changed the direction and went where the noises grew louder and louder, revealing pained whimpers and strained groans. Something obviously horrible was going on, your instinctive screaming to interfere in the ominous situation.

You stumbled upon a corner hidden away from the rest, groups of blurred bodies splayed around, raw screams piercing through the fog. Hidden in the grey shadows, you suppressed your impulses and watched from afar, the horrific scene making you hesitate. One that you never saw before; only displayed in the comics some weird children so eagerly yearn for in the forgotten parts of the local library, even if the pastor warns them not to, to avoid the 'prohibited' content. Or in unknown shows that are viewed in private, and are avoided from discussion in daily conversations.

But in a place you were familiar with, there was a guarantee that you would never behold a sight straight out of fiction in front of your eyes. Except you defied it, in an area without promise of what would happen, the danger remains ominous. No authorities could justify it, nor the locals, and only the victim was to blame.

Raw pain ripped through the man’s aching throat, the noises doing nothing but emphasize the knife digging in his ribs mercilessly, drawing bloodied knives as if writing a message using a pen.

He was used as an example, a warning to daring others. A living being—rather than treated as such—he was reduced to nothing but a man printed out in newspapers most unbothered to read, another work done by Ning Yizhou.

In this place, you knew it was taboo to read books or articles of news, deemed ‘uncool’. But in your area, nearly everyone you knew except for some, read religiously. Especially newspapers, so you did familiarise yourself with the infamous woman that often appears in it, known for her horrendous crimes yet never in trouble from the corruption of the authorities here. Was it unfair? Definitely.

You weren’t one to judge, you wanted to understand people, instead, you hid by the safety of your hands suppressing the muffled gossip naturally flying out of your lips to your friends’ impatient ears.

Hypocrite.

The poorly carved words on the unconscious body, had the knife deep in his stomach to finish it off, and the blood spurting out from the gash messily trickled down to your polished shoes.

An audible gasp barely made out of your parted lips in fear, instinctively stepping back from the mess reaching you. You couldn’t be involved in this atrocity, not even be a witness.

Snickers and cackles slowly went to a buzzing mute, their curious eyes setting upon you. By your attire itself, it was obvious you weren’t from here. Fortunately, nothing happened to an ‘innocent’ bystander like you.

But the woman amongst them all, the silence uncharacteristic to be associated with the rest of the crowd emerged as they parted for her to interrogate you.

The display itself was enough for you to nearly piss your pants.

“Who’re you?” Never in your life have you predicted to hear that woman’s voice, it was harsh with a heavy accent suggesting English is definitely not her first language, nor practised enough. Innocence feigned upon her face, mockingly so, contrasted it.

Loss of words, the graphic scene kept replaying in your mind, pausing your actions. "...I'm no harm, I was passing by." You clarified awkwardly, caught red-handed like a deer on the streets.

A lazy hum buzzed from her lips and she tilted her head in curiosity. “You don’t seem to be.”

Was that an insult disguised as ridiculing reassurance? You weren't sure.

Her eyes study you briefly— the way you're dressed, the fear visible in every inch of your body—slowly focusing on the fliers in your hands protectively, like a pathetic shield from her.

"You know how this would go, don't you?" An interrogation of some sort, not a serious one since were you significant to them? No, to the point there was no benefit of having one in the first place.

Before it could start, before your life had a slim possibility of being crushed into a ruined cigarette; she snatched the papers from your grasp, reading it intently.

"Church." Snorting in disbelief, an acidic and biting taste infected her tongue from uttering the word, she sucked in a breath in discomfort, the unintentional memories swarming in her fuzzy brain.

"You're one of 'em." A plain statement, an obvious observation. Messily her fingers entangled in her rough hair strands, ruffling it slightly in thought momentarily affecting the amount of speech.

"Ah... you're desperate if you're hanging around here, wanting criminals to join." She breathed out, her hands instinctively shoving in the pockets of her baggy pants that were on the verge of sagging down for warmth in the chilly weather, now the heat of burning adrenaline coursing in her veins cooled down.

Surprisingly, a defensive side came out, despite having a clue of who you're dealing with. "So? They are people."

"Shitty people, dogs, to be honest." She added lazily, a twitch appearing on the corners of her lips.

"People." Firmly, you asserted, stretching out the word to emphasise your point.

So stubborn, she was. Curiosity, as she claimed to be, she continued to observe you in the transient silence shared between.

"You're persistent, a very persistent one. Havin' criminals in the church would do only harm, especially these lot from around here.” She tsked, shaking her head slowly in disbelief, or rather taunting your efforts to persuadee further.

“That is like saying sick people shouldn’t be in a hospital, fat people shouldn’t be in a gym—” You got cut off abruptly with a chilling request from one of the scarred men lurking cautiously behind her but keeping a safe distance.

His eyes, the pupils were dilated and its darkness consumed the other colour completely except the whites of the eye, his gaze a story to be told itself. Just like the rest of the people here, their eyes all the same including this woman’s, though hers held a fierce glint of defiance against the norms expected on everybody.

“Boss, this girl talks too much… can’t I just make her shut up permanently?” A warning glance by her keen, sharp eyes made his words manifest towards him instead of what he hoped for.

“Shut the fuck up, instead of yappin’, get me a cigarette real quick.” She said flatly and her attention adverts to you immediately, her eyes lingering longer than expected until landing on the concrete floor smudged with crushed glass hazardously or rubbish.

“Hm, call me Ning, alright? Come ‘round more often, and I can consider. Probably not, but what is harmful about having a cute friend around?” A heavy hand slams against your shoulder making you flinch, she wraps her arms around your shoulder and in a non-verbal apology, she rubs the stinging part soothingly so it wouldn’t hurt so much.

The pain that you had right now was nothing to what she had before.

“Ning.” You murmured with a defeated grunt.