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rom-e-o · 8 months

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Heaven (Modern!AU) (Constance/Orin) (Constance/Ebenezer)

Trigger warning for graphic depictions of self-harm and attempted su*c*de.

Connie experiences darkness before the dawn.

Something about the entire evening felt just a tad … off.

Orin Spiegler couldn’t exactly pinpoint what exactly was amiss in the couple’s stately 5th Avenue townhouse, but a sense of dread was tugging at him. He felt … anxious, which was not an emotion he felt often. Stock trading on Wall Street and rubbing elbows with some of the richest financial syndicates in the country and world took someone with steel-will and gumption. By self- admission, he had both in spades.

Orin knew there were many select adjectives one might use to describe him, but ‘uncertain’ was not one of them. When he felt or knew something, he believed it with his whole chest and soul.

Something in the air on that very evening was making his uneasy.

Orin sat in an expansive, high ceiling sitting room in the townhouse, the windows showing the top of Central Park’s green canopy. The clouds churned dark gray outside, pregnant with a chilling winter downpour that threatened to turn to snow if the temperature dwindled much more.

It wasn’t the cold or impending weather making him nervous, nor was it the distance scratching of the delicate sapphire needle on the phonograph nearby, playing a crackling blend of Chopin’s most well-known pieces. No. He was used to all that. He was used to the dry newspaper in his hands, ink smearing on his fingertips even if he’d given the damn thing the whole day to dry. He was used to the expensive firewood filling the parlor with the scent of aftershave, and just a little bit of nauseous smoke.

He was a man of routine, and nothing this evening stood out compared to anything else that would have also been commonplace any other night.

Yet, his fingers felt compelled to tap the wooden flourish of his armchair. An itch manifested on his freshly shaven cheek. The silk of his dressing gown suddenly felt as stifling as wool.

A persistent, nagging notion scratched at the base of his skull: Get up, get up, get up.

Something was wrong. But what?

Fuck, he needed a drink.

“Con!” he yelled, voice reverberating through the cavernous room, “Grab me a drink, will you?”

Silence.

A groan of irritation left him as he threw the paper aside and rose to his feet. “Con! Hey!”

He peered down the hall that housed a few of the townhome’s bedrooms. It was dark and still as nighttime pond. Uneasiness returned as he noted a persistent haze filling the hall. Steam from the bathroom, he realized.

Ah, of course, she was in the bath.

Well, she could fetch his drink nude, he thought. That could be fun.

Marching to the bathroom, his fingers curled around the knob like the legs of a dying spider. He gave the door a rattle. As expected, it was locked, the knob frozen in place. “Con. I know you’re in there.”

There was no noise from the other side. Not a sound of exasperation or fear, not the sound of sloshing water, not the sound of a squeaky tap or a groaning pipe. It was as if the room was empty on the other side of the locked door, but that wasn’t possible.

That persistent feeling of dread grew in tandem with the stretch of silence he experienced on the other side of the door. While one hand kept trying the knob, the hardware rattling like tumbling bones with furious flick of the wrist. While his right hand attacked the knob, his left hand rose seemingly of its own accord to tap his fingers against the lacquered wood. One finger to another, back and forth, three or four times.

The entire time, crickets. By now, she would have stirred. She should have stirred.

“Con?” he asked again, his voice growing with the same trepidation that had lured him up from the chair.

Silence.

Had she fallen asleep in the bath and slipped into the water?

“Constance. Constance!”

Panic rose in his throat and he continued to twist the knob over and over, attempting to move the lock’s tumblers by threat and force. The fingers that had previously siphoned out his anxiety through fleeting taps now curled into a fist and banged on the wood.

“I’m going to break down the door if you don’t answer me.”

Less than ten seconds passed before he acted upon the promise. Squaring his shoulders and bracing himself, he reared back against the hall wall before charging forward. The door jostled in place, and after a few strikes, began to buckle around the metal hardware. While the new lock remained in place, the historic door (a heavily restored original from the townhome’s initial construction around two hundred years ago) caved with relative ease.

Adrenaline numbed the pain long enough for him to force the wood forward past the screws and hinges.

On the next ram, it buckled. With the lock still clicked into place, the rest of the door flew back and smacked the bathroom wall.

Orin stumbled inside, and before he saw anything else, he saw red. A pool of blood, thick and black as oil, dripped from the edge of the otherwise pristine, white clawfoot tub. Perched atop the rim was a slit wrist, a jagged flap of skin hanging free from the cut veins.

One of his facial razors was limply cradled between the unresponsive manicured nails.

“Fuck!”

He pushed himself back from the doorway, stumbling away from the stained floor, as if he could push himself out of the dream before him.

“Fuck, fuck, no!” he screamed, voice shattering with each syllable. The world seemed to still in that moment, where each breath felt like an eternity to complete. “H-holy shit…C-Constance….”

Remembering himself, he peeled himself up from the floor and stepped through the metallic-smelling liquid to read the room.

As he looked inside, he saw his fear realized. While one slit wrist was perched atop the edge of the tub, her other slit wrist and head were submerged in the pink-tinted water, only a few bubbles leaving her nostrils and mouth. Her coppery hair wreathed her lifeless face like a halo, eyes already fluttered shut.

Acting instinct, he lunged to her side. Orin reached in and hauled Constance from the tub, all but throwing her onto the floor. She wasn’t nude, but rather dressed in a thin slip dress that reached her mid-thighs, likely to preserve some dignity for whoever found her.

She was already cold and limp in his arms from also slipping unconscious, therefore powerless to stop him bundling her wrists in towels and wrapping her in a robe. He worked in silence, waiting until all her wounds were covered before he began to apply beats of heavy pressure to her chest.

He thumped his hands against her sternum, then frantically tipped her head back and breathed into her mouth.

“Come on, come on…” he muttered, mindless of the blood and bath water drenching him. “No. Fuck. No, we’re not doing this.”

He commanded her to wake up over and over again, both shouting the order and muttering it against her blueish lips between breaths. Some of those whispers were prayers, not to Constance, but to any higher power or ghosts that could hear him.

When she finally did sputter up some water, she didn’t even take a moment to breathe. All Constance did was gasp and let out a choppy groan. Her agony was personified in a cry for death rather than a frantic gasp for life.

Ignoring her pleas to let her die, he scooped her up in his arms and rushed to his phone in the sitting room.

While waiting for an ambulance to arrive, he held her like a child cradling their favorite stuffed toy, rocking her softly all the while.

While he murmured sweet nothing, she let out creaking, suffocated groans for physical and mental release.

Release from life. Release from him.

The clawfoot tub in Ebenezer Scrooge’s London flat was large enough for her to practically lay flat in.

Slipping out of her robe (which was actually his robs - she needed to buy one to keep at his place), she tentatively stepped into the steaming tub of water one leg at a time.

Baths always worked wonders for her aches and pains, especially residual injuries from her broken legs.

This one was no exception.

Even when she went to sit down, the size of the bath continued to surprise her. Sitting fully on her bum, the water almost reached her chin. Almost slipping into the deepness, she caught herself with a giggle. She rolled her shoulder back and reclined against the back of the tub with a sigh.

Oh, it was heaven. She felt almost weightless in the tub, since it was large enough for her to move her arms and even wiggle her legs back and forth.

She could even dunk her head under the water (which she did, in fact!) and surfaced with another puff of laughter as she smoothed her curled bangs from her face.

The bath was a place of private solace; a haven to be truly defenseless and vulnerable. It was always one of the most reliable places she could retreat to and never be bothered. Whether it was after a chilly day of childhood snowball fights, a hard day at the office, or a harrowing modelling photoshoot that left her feet sore and ego bruised, she would go to the bath and feel peace.

Everything about this bathroom relaxed her. From the buttery paint color on the walls to the fluffy, freshly washed towels, and even down to the rainy London skyline outside the window, it felt perfect.

Slowly, she risked a glance down and at her wrist.

She turned her wrist over and glimpsed the deep, jagged scar adorning her right hand. While scars lingered on both hands, her wrist list had been badly marred thanks to the added clumsiness of her trying to use her non-dominant hand. It almost made her chuckle, the black comedy of it all.

Inhaling the steam off the bath, she took a deep breath to reground herself.

“You’re okay,” she reminded herself with a nod. “You’re okay.”

Her boyfriend was right outside.

This time, she had nothing, and nobody, to be scared of.

Ebenezer reclined in bed, dressing properly for a quiet evening in with pajamas and slippers. His torso sat propped against two layers of pillows, his legs crossed casually at the ankles. Across his lap was a thick book; an enjoyable endeavors compared to the massive manuscripts he often read daily as part of his job. A set of tortoiseshell reading glasses were perched atop his owlish nose. The frames were a set that Constance had helped him picked out at an optometrist appointment mere weeks prior. It had been a surprisingly domestic experience, he'd found. She'd been so serious about helping him choose the perfect set and offering her opinions. At the time, he'd wanted to pull her into a thankful kiss.

Now, he was eagerly awaiting for her to join him in bed.

Every once in a while, he glanced at the door to the ensuite bathroom. Whenever he heard a splash or giggle from inside, he almost smiled before returning to his book.

Gods, what had he done to wind up so lucky?

When the door finally opened and Constance emerged, her cheeks red and hair damp, his grin turned to a smirk. Wearing one of his robes with the hem of a sapphire-blue night slip peeking from underneath, she looked like a goddess emerging from her private springs.

“Hello,” she said with a shy smile.

“Hello, indeed,” he crooned, putting his book aside instantly. He opened an arm to her, and she crawled into his embrace. She sidled up to him, fitting perfectly in the nook between his chest and arm. “Enjoy the bath?”

She nodded and hummed. “Very much. It was so relaxing.”

He dropped a kiss upon her copper head. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“What are you reading?”

“Crime and Punishment,” he said. “I wanted to read it as a boy, but never got to it. I’ve been wanting to get back into reading more, my dear. I used to do it so often as a child when I could. Even when money was tight, libraries were always free.”

She hummed.

“Have you read it?”

“I’ve read Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace and Anna Karenina, but never Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment,” she said. “That’s the novel about the student, right? Raskolnikov. The one who kills his elderly neighbor with an axe?”

“…Yes,” he said, then laughed nervously. “I suppose it is a bit of a morbid choice.”

“Well, most literature is morbid in some way,” Constance giggled, readjusting herself so she laid alongside him. “Are you far along?”

“Not terribly – 10 pages or so. Barely a dent of a dent for a book of this size, I’d dare say.”

“…Can we both read it?”

“What?” he asked, glancing down at her. “Like, read it together? In turns?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes. Is…that okay? Just a chapter or so a night before bed every night. Maybe … I could read a few times, and you could read other times?”

Touched by her sincere interest, he would have agreed even if he hadn’t liked the idea. Oh, he was overjoyed by the thought. Any opportunity to bond with her filled his proverbial cup, so to speak.

“Well, then,” he started, holding the book open with one hand while his other hugged her close. “Let’s start over, shall we?”

She reached out to grab the other side of the novel, helping to hold it upright for them.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

Inhaling again, she nodded and let her eyes flutter shut.

“It feels like heaven.”

@quill-pen I was inspired by our convo the other day. Just a bit.

#tw self harm mention #scroogeverse #oc constance dogoode #scrooge x oc

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the-avaricious-meddler · 2 months

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Name: Namkuzu Moniker: The Avaricious Meddler (present), The A_______ Meddler (future) Age: 4000+ Species: Debatably human Gender/Pronouns: No, They/it Ambition: Light Fingers (False-Star Ending) Profession: Crooked-Cross Lodgings: A Handsome Townhouse, Various Hideouts Across London Closest To: Urchins Other Close Affiliations: LF crew (Allies), The Hybrid (child), Mr Fires (Object of Obsession), The Manager of The Royal Bethlehem (Object of Obsession), The New Sequence (Dubiously Allies), The Great Game (Red), Mourners (As much allies as they can be, which is not much), The Rowdy Corsair & Co. (Allies), Hell, Rubberies, Starved Men, Fingerkings (Dubiously Allies, on shaky terms), Cats (Dubiously Allies) Most Valued Primary Stat(s): Shadowy, Persuasive Most Valued Advanced Stat(s): Mithridacy, Shapeling Arts Ship: Nyx-Class Zubmersible Estivals Experienced: Horticulture Hell, The Sixth Coil

Exceptional/Premium stories canon to this character:

-The Icarian Cup -Inheritance -Homecoming -Paisley -Cricket, Anyone? -Written in The Glim -The Ballad of Johnny Croak -The Bloody Wallpaper -Say it With Flowers -The Sunken River -The Shallows -There is The Richest Juice in Poison Flowers -Uncovering Secrets Framed in Gold -The Green King -A Newt by Any Other Name -Slobgollion -Arcana -Deja Vu -The Clay Man's Arm -The Laws of The Game -The Stolen Song -The Stripes of Wrath

Personality: Impulsive, selfish, obsessive, and has a tendency to betray others to keep from getting attached to them.

History: Originally from the first city, Namkuzu, through unknown means, learned the fate that awaited their home- complete destruction, and being replaced by the second city. Wishing to escape death, they made a deal with the fingerkings, allowing them to escape into a relatively safe part of Parabola. The exact cost of this deal is unknown. Also around this time, they found The Cave of The Nadir, but willingly forgot its location after an incident which resulted in a copy of them made of Irrigo being created. They were introduced to the Shapeling Arts, as well as Rubbery techniques for avoiding aging. This sparked the beginning of their obsession with immortality, though it wasn't yet nearly as bad as it would come to be. Alongside this, they also slowly learned how to change their appearance whilst still appearing human. Over time, and across cities, they took on several aliases, different identities to prevent anyone from catching onto what they were doing. And each time a new city fell, they returned to their hiding place in Parabola, never even attempting to stop it. When the fourth city was destroyed, much sooner than expected, they only barely escaped. Years passed. During a stint in New Newgate, they abandoned an old alias and took on the name "Alizaben Thomas" as they made their escape, erasing all ties to that name's records. Not long after, they learned through a contact, a music-hall singer who did jobs as a surface-runner to supplement her dwindling income, of a massive diamond ripe for the plucking. Of course, this did not go as planned.

(Major Light fingers spoilers below)

The amount of resistance put up against their search only fueled their desire to continue, even going so far as to willingly drive themself mad in the house of mirrors to get into the Royal Beth to find the singer's sister Clara, and not turn back when it came time to break into the Orphanage after both were captured. They did not take Poor Edward's threats of burying them alive seriously. They really should have. Because they got caught, and he did just that. Fortunately for them, they'd been tending to a particular plant, and it rescued them from certain, continuous deaths. Undeterred, they returned to the Orphanage- and this time, they succeeded. After rescuing Clara, they set the Orphanage alight and escaped on a stolen dirigible. From there, and now fairly certain the diamond they originally sought did not exist, but in too deep to back out, they set out knowledge of the roof and its inhabitants. Which led them to one Doctor Vaughan, who they tracked down and met with great effort. Their alliance was, at first, shaky at best. Neither trusted the other all that much, but it was clear that Clara would die without intervention, so there were no other options. With what they learned, they prepared for a trip to the roof, and after a brief distraction from Poor Edward, they ascended. After gaining what they needed from a Moon-mother to make Clara's condition- pregnancy with a human moon-miser hybrid- survivable, at least for Clara, they left the roof into Parabola, ending up on the skin of the sun. Unfortunately, this was a great offense to The Boil of Calamities, and by extension, the fingerkings- they tread on sacred ground without permission. Having already offended the fingerkings in the past by attempting to create an artificial facsimile of one, Namkuzu knew it would be difficult to mollify them, and as such, they fled into the jungle with their companions. Preparing the rest of the birth was no easy task either, and they ended up having a run-in with a Master of The Bazaar- Mr Fires, who had one of the needed materials. Agreeing to give the hybrid to it once it was capable of leaving Parabola, they were given the material- and, at Fires' suggestion, burned down Wines' library of love stories where they'd had the meeting. They hadn't been lying when they said they'd give the hybrid to Fires. But that plan was ruined by one simple fact: they got attached. Having known the hybrid- their child- and seeing it grow up, they decided they simply could not hand it over to its fate. But how they would save it, they did not know.

#fallen london #fl #fallen london oc #fl oc #oc tag #Namkuzu #The avaricious meddler #The A_______ meddler #fl spoilers

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lya-dustin · 1 year

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So Osferth gets 7 estates in Sussex in Alfred’s will.

These are

Beckley: near the southern coast and Kent which was the center of Christianity in the UK

Rotherfield: east Sussex a royal hunting estaste owned by Alfred known for its oak forests and being the source of the river Rother

Ditchling: rumored to have been the first capital of the Saxon Kingdom. the Roman Greensand Road that connects to London passes by it, loacted in East Susesx. Also has Wings Palace, the saxon manor Anne of Cleves lived in after her divorce and was supposedly built by Alfred of Wessex

Sutton: i couldn't really find anything save that it is home to a very specific species of cricket

Lyminster: another royal hunting estaste of Alfred’s. Home to 11th century church, St. Mary of Magdalene known for its six bells(which their oldest pub is named after) and burial place to St. Cuthflaed of Lyminster(whom the saxon kings are related to) also has a knuckerhole where a knight slayed a water dragon and his tomb is a slab on the church called the Slayer's Slab. Near the coast as well

Angerming: has the remains of a roman villa and a bathhouse meaning it was occupied by a wealthy roman citizen. Also has all these ways its called: Angemeringatun, Angmerengatum, Angemaeringum, Angemeringe, Aingmarying, Angmarrying, Angemare and Ameringe. (This village has as many name variations as Osferth) near the coast as well

Felpham: by the coast in the same district as Angerming and except that it was partially given to Edward’s third wife, nothing else is there about it.

Edit 10/4/23: he was also given 100 pounds of silver, which made him perhaps the richest non royal ealdorman then.

#osferth the last kingdom #osferth x reader #osferth son of alfred #alfred of wessex #the last kingdom #ewan mitchell #ewanverse

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littleprince612 · 1 year

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more lies of P notes!!

Recently I've revisited Collodi's Pinocchio to celebrate Lies of P's release and to mine as much information from it as I can. I did read Pinocchio as a kid and I remember really enjoying it. It's devastating and strange, in the way that oftentimes only children's media can be. There's a lot of cool touches by the game devs that I didn't expect!

Chestnut hair, blue eyes, and looking as happy and joyful as if it were the Easter holidays.

Simon Manus - Manus meaning “hand”, and blind in one eye like antonia. (edit: someone mentions this is also an allusion to Simon Magus) Pinocchio biting off the paw/hand of the cat:

Visually, very similar to Venigni - I wonder if this is the Fox and the Cat.

The Cat goes blind, and The Fox goes lame.

Honest John is the iteration of the Fox in the Disney 1940 film. Looks similar to Vegnini.

Venigni - you can see in early renders that his name seems to Benigni, and his brooch has a B instead of a v in these "early renders". maybe because of varying korean romanizations, as with “Gepetto” and “Zepeto”

Venigni from italian Benigni meaning Benign. Still don't trust him (others have pointed out that this is also a little nod to Roberto Benigni who directed a Pinocchio film)

From the interview: (NPC Venigni is said to be the richest person in the game.)

Said to be richest person in the game - like how Honest John feigns his attire? (also: "Director No researched 19th-century clothing when designing and did not incorporate, for example, fasteners that did not exist in that era." super cool!)

Pinocchio gets into a fight, and Eugene is hit in the crossfire. Narratively speaking, This is Pinocchio learning that his mistakes not only cost himself and his family, but can have innocent bystanders. Eugene is hit with a concussion and taken in somewhere.

Aweee :) (btw the little annotations aren't mine, looks like someone was studying and marking up a library copy!)

Blue fairy dies once in the book, "narratively", the cost of failure. I wonder if this will happen in the game.

I wonder if there’s a “fake” ending like this one. He is supposed to be a real boy the very next day. But once again he is lead astray, one final time.

MangiaFuoco (fire-eater) - The furnace

The snail

Cricket like a "nightlight in a lamp of transparent china". Neat!

Gemini’s personality, however, is more like the "archetypal" Jiminy Cricket from the Disney Classic Pinocchio. In the original, pinocchio murders him with a mallet. bad kid!

Other things like the stargazer, the star fragments, and moon rocks also seem to take inspiration from the "star theming" of the disney classic (they are AFAIK absent in the original). Astro Boy is another loose adaptation of Pinocchio. Adaptations of Pinocchio influence one another, which then influence even other adaptations.

#lies of p #LOP #pinocchio #collodi

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padfootswhiskers · 6 months

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16, 21, 26 ask game

thank you for the ask! these are all great questions

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

oooh. like @ashesandhackles said, it's very annoying when people are surprised we can speak english, lol. i've seen people being surprised at the fact that we have internet. almost every instagram reel about india will have comments about how the people all shit in the streets😂

ones i agree with? hmm the cows everywhere one is true 😂😂india also is genuinely quite dirty. it's very common for people to be casually racist 😂and we do shake our heads while talking

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be?

food and dance, i think. aliens deserve to see kathak and enjoy mutton seekh kebab

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?

it does!

when i think of india in hollywood, inevitably i think of slumdog millionaire. now i fucking love that movie. and i love danny boyle (shout out to steve jobs 2015) but it does paint a certain picture of the country. which isn't...inaccurate, exactly, but it's a tiny little pixel of a massive painting. the events/setting of the movie is by no means unrealistic for a modern india but for someone like me who has only grown up in major cities in a pretty much upper middle class family, it feels like a completely different universe. all that to say, india contains multitudes and the usual poverty porn of the country you get is not at all relatable to a significant amount of the population. i think the very location of slumdog millionaire proves my point, really. dharavi is the largest slum in the world, and right across the street lives mukesh ambani, the 9th richest man in the world.

tangentially, my favourite portrayal of india in western film is wes anderson's 'the darjeeling limited'. it's not set in a major metro city but it's not poverty porn either. and i think, somehow, it really captures an essence of india! little scenes like adrien brody being amused at boys playing cricket with a tennis ball....it makes me feel so fond of my country <3

“hi, I’m not from the US” ask set

#answered #anonymous #ask game

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apnaanews · 2 years

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भारत के 5 सबसे अमीर क्रिकेटर

भारतीय खिलाड़ियों के बारे में तो हम सभी जानते हैं| उनके खेल के बारे से लेकर उनकी पसंद और न पसंद के बारे में भी हमें मालुम होता है और हम सभी क्रिकेट प्रशंशक उन सभी चीजों की जानकारी रखते हैं| किन्तु क्या आप ये जानते है की भारत के टॉप 5 ऐसे कौन खिलाडी है जिनकी आय सबसे ज्यादा अर्थात कौन सबसे ज्यादा अमीर है| आईये जानते हैं उनके बारे में |

Visit: https://apnaanews.in/5-richest-cricketers-in-india

#5 Richest Cricketers in India #Famous Cricketers in India #Richest Cricketers in India #Popular Cricketers in India

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lindsaywesker · 1 year

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Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

37% of the web is porn.

Sex burns 360 calories per hour.

Baths kill more people than terrorists.

Earth has lost 50% of its wildlife in the past 40 years.

The big bang was quieter than a Motorhead concert.

Men are biologically hardwired to fall asleep after sex.

100,000 Japanese people disappear without trace every year.

The brain naturally craves four things: food, sex, water and sleep.

A blue whale can swallow half a million calories in a single mouthful.

The literal meaning of “Once in a blue moon” is once every 2.7 years.

The number of emails is expected to reach 376 billion daily by 2025.

In North Korea, the sentence for getting caught watching porn is death.

Being alone weakens your body. Having friends strengthens your body.

British people inserting things up their bums costs the NHS £350,000 a year.

The Peter Principle holds that people are always promoted beyond their ability.

Studies show that the average man exaggerates the length of his penis by 20%.

In 1997, Bill Gates invested $150 million in Apple to save it from going bankrupt.

According to a 2014 study, shorter men report that they have more sex. (No comment.)

On average people are 2 inches shorter and 20% poorer than they claim to be online.

Friendship has more influence on longevity than exercise, diet, heart problems and smoking.

In 1973, China had an excess of females and offered the U.S. 10 million Chinese women.

In 2011, a lorry crashed on the M1 spilling enough Marmite to cover 24 million slices of toast.

Eminem wrote and recorded ‘The Real Slim Shady’ three hours before his album was due.

To test what happens when someone sits on their phone, Samsung has a robot shaped like a bottom.

India used to be the richest country in the world until the British invasion in the early 17th Century.

In 2006, Liechtenstein accidentally found 0.3% more of their country when they remeasured their borders.

The more you hide your feelings, the more they show. The more you deny your feelings, the more they grow.

A study has found that friends-with-benefits relationships are just as sexually satisfying as marital relationships.

Marrying your best friend eliminates the risk of divorce by over 70%. These marriages are more likely to last a lifetime.

According to new research, your cat will happily take treats from your enemies. Your dog, however, will not.

At the 1968 Olympics, Bob Beamon broke the long jump record by so much they had to find another tape measure.

Emotional pain lasts for 10 to 20 minutes, anything longer is actually self-inflicted by over thinking, making things worse.

In 1900, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle caught fire during a cricket match at Lord's. The ball hit a box of matches in his pocket.

You may gain 20% more muscle strength by working out in the afternoon instead of the morning, according to a study.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), an estimated 619,000 people die each year due to heat stroke.

‘The Shawshank Redemption’ has been rated the best movie of all time according to IMDb, with a rating of 9.2/10.

There are 67.1 million tracks sitting on music streaming services that, in the 2022 calendar year, attracted 10 or fewer streams.

Alfred Hitchcock, the master of suspense, who terrified audiences with movies like ‘Psycho’ and ‘The Birds’ was frightened of eggs.

The most expensive movie ever made is ‘Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides’ (2011) with a budget of $378.5 million.

When pirate Jean Lafitte (c. 1780 – c. 1823) saw that the governor of Louisiana had offered $500 for his successful capture, Lafitte put up flyers offering $1500 for the capture of the governor.

A ‘binfluencer’ is a person on a street who takes the lead in putting out the correct waste and recycling bins on the correct day, thus prompting neighbours to follow suit. (My next door neighbour is one!)

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #tuesdaymotivation #radio

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questof-truth · 1 year

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My country has been no less than ancient Rome ,in ancient Rome , entertainment / sports activities were arranged for their citizens so that attention of the people could not go to the real issues. Likewise , it is happening today .

Since past few years we are at war with our neighbour country Pakistan because we have refused to play cricket over the pakistani soil . Most of the Indians really proud of it .As we know ,most Indians do like cricket and they like pakistan to be as their enemy number one . They love this struggle . For the continuation of such tussle ,they will do anything . Most amusing thing is we only refuse cricket to be played over there ,all other sports events are happening on their routine .

The most richest sport body of the world will again cash this opportunity and will mint money out of this game . A poor rickshaw puller to a cobbler will be watching its commentary at the moment without thinking that what actually are they getting from it ?

It's strange thing that people believe that this is a real battle . just because they have been blinded by 73 year old narrative ,they don't see the real battle in their life.

#thinking #about my country #if possible pls ignore me #concentration of wealth in few hands #rich getting richer

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cophene · 1 year

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006 || ☆ ⁺ « SPARE A BIT OF SWEET TALK.

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pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : with virtually nothing left in their credit account, a gang of space thieves turn to the richest man in the galaxy to give them a job worth millions. too bad those never come easy, even with stand abilities and pretty-faced crew notes : sci-fi au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 3.2k+

★˚⋆ EVEN THOUGH YOU KNEW IT would be there, you couldn’t help patting your pocket to make sure the card with your elector was inside. Anything stored inside Party Rock Anthem’s cards were undetectable to scanners and sensors and the like. It made bringing weapons and contraband into places a breeze, and escaping with diamond necklaces and gold cigarillo cases downright fun. Perhaps the only downside was that any damage sustained by the card would also translate to the object on it. If you dented this card with the elector, the elector would get dented as well. You were also the only person who could retrieve things from your cards, so if anything ever happened, your crew would lose everything Party Rock Anthem stored.

Huh. That was kinda dangerous. Maybe you shouldn’t be keeping so much stuff then. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d lost something because you’d forgotten about it. You’d held onto tons of accessories and trinkets for Trish, only for them to disappear because your brain wouldn’t remember them.

It wasn’t like you would ever forget a diamond-studded cricket ball or your own gun, though, so that was what mattered.

You lowered your cap over your eyes as two women stepped onto the mag belt ahead of you. They chattered loudly; long, semi-transparent plastic skirts flapping at their ankles. You couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, staccato bursts escaping their mouths.

“It’s literally just a turtle. I don’t know why everyone’s getting so hot and bothered by it.”

“It’s worth, like, thousands of creds.”

“Well, if that Lady was going to buy it, why didn’t she? Why is she raising a stink when they were going to sell it anyway?”

“Flack if I know. Passione should sell that turtle to me. I could pay generously, if you know what I mean.”

“That is literally so gross but so true. My mom thinks I’m obsessed with them. Whenever they come up on the news? Stars, just end me.”

“The captain is so cute. They’re my favourite after the pilot. They must all be so flacking rich. If they asked me to join the crew, I’d leap.”

You had to pinch yourself to keep from laughing. These girls were cute. You wondered how they would react if they knew the captain of the Passione was standing just a few feet away. Mista’s already gargantuan ego would burst if he heard this.

Such underhanded fame had been irritating in the beginning. As your crew began to catch the attention of the media and more and more people began recognizing your faces, it seemed like pulling off jobs would become impossible. It wouldn’t be until after that you started to use the Passione’s notoriety to your advantage, throwing in false leads and leaning on the support of sympathetic citizens. So called “outlaws” had always been appealing to the public. Challenging the status quo and upstaging the rich were things all average schmucks across the galaxy secretly wished for. Your crew was sticking up a middle finger to the rich on their behalf, and so of course they had to like you a little bit.

The girls’ chatter receded to the back of your mind. Your gaze slid to the ship slots on either side of you, admiring the shine of the newer ship models. The Passione had looked like that once. You had been obsessed with keeping her that way, but at some point, the daily polishes and tune-ups slid down the priorities. The guilt just wouldn’t stop coming, wouldn’t it? The Passione was pretty much a member of the crew herself, and look how beaten you’d allowed her to become. It was a fitting metaphor for the state of your other crew members too, and how great of a captain you were.

Sometimes you wondered why your ragtag team didn’t just leave, go their separate ways. The luxury that might have accompanied joining your crew was long gone. These days it was all near-misses and cranky nobles and barely enough credits for food.

How the mighty and all that.

“Excuse me, ladies. May I ask you a few questions?”

You looked up at the new male voice and immediately averted your gaze. As surreptitiously as you could, you backed away from the two girls, bracing a hand against the wall and slipping into a side entryway as you passed it. The little corridor it led into was used to weave between slots on the Ferry and for emergency evacuations. Not wasting a second, you quick-footed along the space, skipping over mag belts to cut through the Ferry using the corridor as a shortcut.

Galactic Authority uniforms were annoyingly conspicuous. In an era where fashion was outrageous and aggressive, the GA’s were still using the uniforms they’d come up with during the institution's conception over a century ago. Common officers wore black jackets, pants and boots, with a matching military beret decorated with an eight-pointed star. The edges of the jacket and cuffs were done in white. Perhaps the only modern touch were the cute little star buttons securing the jacket and the Elector holster at their thigh. (Trish’s words, not yours.) GA’s moved through crowds like metal people—stiff and indomitable. Fear didn’t knife your heart when you saw these guys anymore. Mostly it was just impatience mixed in irritation that they were still trying to catch you.

You quickened your pace, leaping over one last mag belt onto the escalators leading up to the Ferry master’s office. This was probably what Narancia’s jumbled message had been about. He had been caught up by GA’s. It was easy enough to worm your way out of their grip those times they got close, but Narancia couldn’t lie for flack. His pretty purple eyes would give away everything.

You shoved your jumpsuit sleeves up to your elbows, baring the scar down your arm, and twisted your cap at a rakish angle. As you passed through the doors of the office, your eyes darted around, hoping you would find one.

There.

A squat little cleaning bot was polishing at a stubborn spot in the corner, its little brush-arms whirring. You grabbed it, saying a silent apology before bashing it hard against the wall. It let out a pathetic beep and you smashed it again for good measure. When you turned it around, its display was cracked. Its glowing blue eyes flickered, almost as though it were blinking at you in indignation. Manhandling it farther, your fingers worked at its back panel, getting it open and flicking the switch over to Severe Cleaning.

Sorry, little guy.

You tucked the cleaning bot under your arm, making a beeline for the Ferry’s front desk. As you feared, Narancia was leaning against it a little too casually, putting up a front for the GA officer questioning him.

No. Not just any officer.

Flack, Narancia. You just had to stick around.

“I been damn-near looking through this entire ship tryna find you.” You exaggerated your Lower Space accent so that it was practically a twang. You muscled into the space between Narancia and the officer, pretending not to notice the GA. “Look at this flacking piece of junk you lugged in. I told you it wasn’t good enough to use!”

Narancia widened his eyes at you, relief evident on his face. “Well, I’m sorry it don’t work,” he said, sharpening his accent as well. “Had to make do, you feel?” At least he’d remembered to disguise himself, hiding his dark hair under a cap and wearing a pair of dark-tinted eyeglasses.

“Shoulda paid a little more attention, huh?” you said pointedly.

“Well, I knew you’d come around eventually.”

The officer cleared his throat, the way you’d known he would. At this point, you could read Inspector Assiwpe like a holopad.

Calling him Inspector Asswipe was doing him a disservice. It was too spiteful, too vulgar a name for the man standing in front of you. Which was exactly why you and the crew used it. If you went around calling him “Inspector Leone Abbacchio” you might actually start respecting the guy, and you couldn’t have that.

He looked good today, you had to admit that. He filled out his uniform nicely—his a little fancier than the lackeys. A belt cinched his waist over the uniform jacket, the GA’s crest its buckle. A band of white ran down either of his pant legs, flaring in wide ribbon ends just above the top of his polished boots. A black overcoat and scarf completed the ensemble, along with a silver earring that glinted in one of his ears. You could just make out the outline of his shoulder holster underneath his coat—just like one of Mista’s. You knew it looked like Mista’s because, well, Abbacchio was the one he had stolen it from.

Abbacchio’s eyes flashed when he met your gaze, and judging by the way his purple-tinted lips tightened just a fraction, your maintenance crew disguise wasn’t quite working on him.

Not that you gave a flack. Bullshitting Abbacchio was half the fun of being a space thief.

You widen your eyes as if only just now noticing Inspector Asswipe. “Gah! A real GA! What’s going on here?!”

“Do you work on the Ferry?” he asked curtly.

“Sure do! Been here since I was a kid!”

Abbacchio narrowed his eyes. You could tell your amped-up accent was grating at his nerves. “I’m Inspector Leone Abbacchio from the Galactic Authorities. A dangerous crew of space thieves has been reported boarding the Ferry. I’m here under orders to question the personnel on board.”

“Space thieves?! On the Ferry? Never!”

“I should think so. Regardless, I need both of you to answer questions. It would seem your friend here doesn’t remember when you started working here.”

Narancia smiled sheepishly. “Nine, ten years. It’s all the same, isn’t it, Inspector?”

“Perhaps. Except you told me that you’re nineteen. If you started work ten years ago, you would’ve seven years under minimum work age.”

Narancia’s smile went brittle. You caught colour flushing the back of his neck. Catching the crook of Narancia’s arm, you made sure to pinch him before pulling him back. “Aw, you don’t need to question us, Inspector,” you drawled. “We’ve just been cleaning, same as always. I actually really need my mate over here to help me with this bot so we don’t get canned.”

“What is your name?” Abbacchio said. “I’d like to see your ident chips, both of you.”

“The bot is real flacked, sir,” said Narancia primly. “We gotta fix it right away.”

Inspector Asswipe hardened his voice. “Ident chips. Now.”

“We don’t know anything, sir,” you insisted. The cleaning bot wriggled under your other arm, beeping unhappily. “You should ask the higher-ups. There’s hundreds of ships here, how do you expect us to keep track of them all?”

“The Passione’s tiny,” added Narancia. “We wouldn’t know it if we saw it.”

You winced at the discrepancy the same second Asswipe noticed it.

“I didn’t mention anything about the Passione,” Abbacchio said. He was scowling at you now, a tiny line appearing between his eyebrows. It was a regrettably familiar expression. You often saw it in your sleep.

He brought a hand up behind his ear, tapping his earpiece. “I’d like to request backup on the Ferry’s office.”

Narancia darted a look at you. Your first instinct was to start blasting, but you had a bad track record on the Ferry and if there was another incident, you could bid adieu to Ferry rides.

So that was what the cleaning bot was for.

You released the bot and it shot forward like a rabid animal. Severe Cleaning was no joke. The bot rushed toward Abbacchio, descending upon his uniform with such force that it managed to propel itself up his legs a few inches. Its brushes whirred so fast you could barely see them. Indomitable though he was, even Inspector Asswipe leapt back at the ferocious cleaning bot. He let out a yelp when its brushes started shredding his pants, and you were tempted to pull out your holopad to record his priceless oh-flack face.

“Haul ass,” you said to Narancia, and leapt down the escalator. You wove back through the little maintenance corridors to the Passione. Abbacchio’s reinforcements would be on your ass in no time.

“It’s almost like you go looking for Inspector Asswipe sometimes,” you huffed over your shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to. Went to talk to the Ferry master like you said and I just happened to run into him.”

“He probably wouldn’t haven’t noticed if you hadn’t said anything about your work experience.”

“Aw, don’t be mad about that, Cap. You know I’m bad with numbers.”

“Don’t I,” you muttered. Narancia could barely add two numbers together but when it came to relative distances and calculating vectors for ship travel, he could crunch the numbers faster than Fugo. You would never understand it.

“They went over here!” You picked up the pace as about dozen pairs of feet clattered after you and Narancia. You peeled out of the corridors and hopped onto the mag belts instead.

“Do you know how much time is left until our slot number is called?” Narancia asked you.

You frowned, thinking. “Uh, not anytime soon? Why?”

“We can’t wait around here or Asswipe will get us,” said Narancia. “We’re going to fly out of the Ferry on our own.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet. “What? How—” You cut yourself short. You supposed it would be possible. The Ferry was docked and you would only have to fly a short distance to get to Sale and Zucchero’s shop.

“Exactly, Cap.” Narancia pulled you into a small alcove to wait for the GA’s to pass. He pulled out his holopad and pressed Fugo’s contact. What sounded like a whoosh of fire and harsh coughing answered the call.

“Fugo, how’s the ship looking?”

“You didn’t hear the sound of the engine dying? That last bit of flying did her in. We’ll have to ask Sale and Zucchero to tow us to the shop once we’re off the Hub.”

You and Narancia pressed yourself deeper into the alcove as the GA’s stomped past. “Well, flack, you’re not gonna like what I have to say,” whispered Narancia.

“What happened?”

“Officer Asswipe found Narancia out,” you said. “He and his goons are combing through the Ferry as we speak.”

Fugo swore colourfully. For a former Upper Space noble, he had quite the vulgar vocabulary.

“We’ll hide on another ship,” Fugo decided. “I’m pretty sure I saw a freighter close to ours. Their crew won’t mind too much, I don’t think.”

Narancia brought the holopad closer to his face. “No time. We can just fly outta this joint on our own.”

“Did you miss the part where I said our engine died? We’re not flacking going anywhere!”

“The Cap and I are going to jack into one of the towing buggies they have here,” Narancia said. Excitedly, you noted. “It should have enough juice to propel us to the Sale and Zucchero’s. They tow those big-ass freighters, don’t they?”

“That is not going to work! Those things don’t have nearly enough power to go a distance like that. Cap, did you agree to this?”

You hadn’t, but your mind was quickly changing now that you could hear the guards coming back and the Ferry’s emergency alarm blaring. The speakers overhead chimed.

“At this time, we ask that all ships pause in their departure preparations. Slot departures have been momentarily suspended as the Galactic Authorities have requested a search of the Ferry to locate a few persons of interest. We ask that you remain where you are and cooperate with Authorities. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

“It’s either that or get hauled in by Inspector Asswipe,” you said. “Get the Passione unmoored and everything ready for flight. Narancia and I are getting the buggy and then we’re out.”

Narancia hung up before Fugo could protest. He grinned devilishly at you. “Alright, Cap. I was wondering when the obligatory cop chase would happen.”

“Talk to me after we get out of here.”

At least the GA’s prowling around kept the mag belts clear. You and Narancia sprinted down them to the A slots. With your caps pulled low, no one looked twice, probably assuming you were rushing to deal with the delay. Predictably, the A slots were cluttered with Upper Space nobles standing around their shiny ships, trying to hide how disgruntled they were as GA’s questioned them. The buggies had been pushed to the side, round little vehicles with hooks on the end hovering an inch off the floor. They wouldn’t be locked. It was just a matter of getting them back to the T block.

“Over there,” Narancia whispered, nodding at a trio of maintenance workers that were hooking up a buggy to a snazzy pleasure cruiser. The owner must have been cleared already.

You looked over your shoulder to make sure everyone was occupied before striding over. In your pocket, you touched your elector card and took it out, glancing at Narancia. You stunned the guy in front of you at the same time Narancia did his, catching him before he could hit the ground. The two workers were propped in the corner of an empty slot and by the time the third one turned around, Narancia had stunned her and carried her off to be with her buddies.

“Piece of cake,” said Narancia, reaching to remove the buggy hook.

“Is my cruiser ready to leave yet?” A snub-nosed noble poked his head out of his cruiser. He hadn’t noticed anything, the idiot.

“Yep, we’re leaving now,” said Narancia in a squeaky voice, smoothly replacing the hook. The noble pursed his lips, settling himself back inside. Narancia snatched the hook off and the two of you climbed into the buggy. You took a second to consider the scene. A buggy going in the opposite direction of the A slot would attract attention regardless of what you did.

Might as well floor it then. You said as much to your pilot and he wasted no time. He floored the gas pedal and you peeled away from the pleasure cruiser at a whopping twenty kilometres per hour.

“What the flack is this?” Narancia stomped on the gas pedal a few times. The buggy rumbled unhappily but didn’t speed up. A particularly overzealous stomp sent the buggy skittering into the wall of a slot, prompting the nobles and GA’s there to look up. It took them a second to register what was happening before they ran after you, banging on the side of the buggy.

“Narancia, the plan is flopping,” you said, twisting in your seat to look around the buggy. There had to be a turbo-speed button somewhere.

Narancia wrenched the steering wheel, mirthlessly bruising the GA’s chasing them against the wall. “Yeah, I know it is. Hold this for a sec.”

You grabbed the steering wheel from your seat. Narancia slid down to the underside of the buggy’s console. He pried open a panel hidden underneath and raised his holopad to it. The console beeped and Narancia popped back into his seat. “That should do it.”

This time, Narancia stomping on the gas was enough to push you back in your seat. The speedometer went haywire as the buggy went speeds it had never thought possible. You thought you heard a thud as the jaws of the GA’s behind you hit the floor.

“That man Fugo is something else.” Narancia grinned manically.

You clenched your armrests. “What did you do?”

“Put in a code Fugo wrote for me to overwrite the buggy’s internal computer. Any baby that can move can move over a hundred kilometers an hour. You just need to tell them to.”

Also known as a bit of sweet talk from Narancia Ghirga.

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#kismetva #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #gender neutral reader #sci fi au

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