#tuesday truth

[crashtestjeffy]

A cop told me a joke once...I was in the back of his cop car in handcuffs...But I digress...

What is the difference between a BMW and a porcupine?

The pricks are on the outside of the porcupine!

#tuesday truth

[comraderoscoes]

oof (from Ben Hunt’s article in the sun)

#lewis hamilton #not linking bc it’s the sun #didn’t expect the tabloids to give us the truth on this rainy Tuesday morning

[cwrldpc]

#ofmd #our flag means death #taika waititi #ed teach #reaction image #truth #taika tuesday

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 1: Mercy

Chapter 1 here we go - written in collaboration with @bitsy83! (Also available on ao3 here!)

Masterpost

-

Ambrosius was there when the sword went off. The deadly blast caught everyone by surprise - Ambrosius barely had a moment to think before grabbing his sword. It was a moment though, just long enough for him to gather his wits and knock the sword from Ballister’s hand before anyone else got hurt, Ballister included. The sword fell to the ground, sparking as it disintegrated into pieces. Ambrosius and Ballister stared at it, then at each other in shock. Then the guards leapt into action. Ballister was so stunned he didn’t fight back when they pinned his arms behind his back and forced him to his knees.

“I didn’t do it.” his voice was barely audible over the noise of the stadium. Then the guards started dragging him away, past the stunned cadets, back into the tunnels below the Glorodome. “I DIDN’T DO IT!” he shouted, finding his voice. “SOMEONE SWITCHED MY SWORD!”

Ambrosius had watched in shocked silence. There was nothing else he could do.

~ ~ ~

The queen was dead. It was all over the news. Killed by the commoner knight himself. What remained of the blaster-equipped sword was locked away as evidence while The Institute investigated the event. Everyone was saying it was an open-and-shut case - replicas of famous swords were easy to get, and Ballister could have easily gotten one and hidden an energy weapon in it. Why was the question that was bothering Ambrosius.

He’d read the write-ups explaining the psyche of the ‘deranged, previous street urchin who’d snapped under stress’, but he’d known the man for over a decade - the profile didn’t fit. Ballister wasn’t a murderer… unless the last ten years had all been an act. Had their friendship been a facade? Had Ballister been planning this for years? Was this his revenge on a system he felt had mistreated him for so long? Or had he been telling the truth on the night of the murder - that someone had switched his sword out, that he’d been set up? But then who had done it? Some terrorist faction that was just now showing itself? The kingdom had been peaceful for decades, why would something surface now?

Ambrosius needed to make sense of this. He trusted The Institute to take care of it, but impatience was getting the better of him. He’d asked for visitation rights several times in the days since the Queen’s murder, but each time he’d been denied. That man was a raving lunatic, they’d told him, and he needed to be kept calm and isolated.

That wasn’t what the dungeon’s camera feed was showing. Ambrosius sat back in his chair in The Institute’s security room, perplexed. The feed showed Ballister looking dejected, sitting in a cell, sometimes pacing, but mostly just… sitting there, not saying a word. No mad ravings like the guards had described. Ambrosius fast-forwarded the feed. Hours of footage, all showing the same thing; nothing. The guards were lying. Why? Why was nothing adding up?

Ambrosius turned away from the computer, rubbing his head. Staring at big screens always made his eyes hurt. Smaller screens, not so much. He flicked his phone open. A news article flashed on the screen; ‘Breaking News: Ballister’s Written Confession Revealed’. Ambrosius blinked. When had that happened? He’d already skimmed through the bulk of the security camera footage from the last few days, and he hadn’t seen anyone go to interview him.

He tapped the article. Sure enough, there it was. A confession of murder, along with enough broken grammar to convince anyone that the author had lost it. Ambrosius stared at the screen until his eyes hurt again. Why would Bal implicate himself if he'd said he was innocent? Now with a confession made clear, all that was left was the sentencing, and there was only one punishment for murder in the kingdom; death.

Years of feelings began to surface - the times they’d stayed out late getting nachos, the times Bal had comforted him when his parents had died - so many experiences built on love and trust. Ambrosius didn’t want to believe Ballister was a murderer. He didn’t want to lose him. He couldn’t lose him.

Ambrosius got up. The article had mentioned the sentencing would be that evening. There was something he could do - he’d heard of an old custom that someone of noble blood or of high status could call for mercy on a convict - not a full pardon, but a punishment could be lightened. As Gloreth’s direct descendant, Ambrosius could get a judge to give a lifetime of house arrest over hanging… if it was still valid.

Ambrosius headed to the court building. They would know if he could declare mercy and how. If he hurried, maybe he could save Bal’s life.

The receptionist knew about the custom, but didn’t know if it was still legal or who would handle it. It hadn’t been done in decades. She made some calls to different departments to see. Ambrosius dug his nails into his palm every time a call turned out fruitless. Time was ticking away. Time he didn’t have.

Finally, they found the answer; the custom was still legal. Better yet, they found out who would handle the proceeding - someone in the judicial building across the campus. There would be paperwork involved. Ambrosius hated paperwork.

Ambrosius didn’t say who he was pardoning, but he could see the confusion on the clerk’s face when he handed him the sheaf of necessary papers. There was only one person in line for sentencing, and who would pardon an obvious murderer?

Ambrosius sat in the lobby and pored over the forms. He needed proof of his lineage. He needed the exact charges against Ballister. He needed the name of the judge. So many fields. So many signatures. He didn’t have time for this! Maybe he could get the first page done, declare mercy, say he’d missed a page, and then finish the rest afterward. Anything to stall the proceedings long enough to get it all filled out.

The records building was his first stop. It wasn’t far, just a few minutes walk. Ambrosius jogged across the campus green. How much time did he have left? He glanced at a nearby clock tower. Then he froze.

In the distance, there was a black flag flying above the judgment tower. The papers in Ambrosius’s hands crinkled as he tightened his grip. A black flag meant an execution was in progress. He’d missed the sentencing.

Ambrosius broke into a run. Forget the paperwork. He’d declare mercy on the spot and worry about that later. But he needed to get there. He needed to get there NOW!

People hurried out of his way as he tore through side streets and courtyards. He ran, his pulse pounding in his ears. The flag was still at full mast. He could see the front doors to the tower in the distance, two guards out front.

The guards stepped in front of the doors as he approached.

“Closed event. Nobody else allowed in.”

Ambrosius didn’t stop. “Let me in! I need to mercy—”

“No one. Else. Allowed.” The guard stated again.

Ambrosius rushed them. It almost worked - they hadn’t expected that from Gloreth’s descendant. He’d nearly gotten his hand on the door handle when they grabbed him and shoved him backwards. Ambrosius didn’t relent. He pushed back, digging in his heels, reaching past them for the handle.

“Let me in!”

His fingers touched the handle briefly. Then he found himself thrown onto the ground, paperwork falling from his hand.

“Don’t make this difficult.” a guard growled.

Ambrosius was back on his feet in an instant, frantic.

“Or what?! I am a knight! Descendant of Gloreth!” He charged again, this time trying to grapple a guard.

“That doesn’t matter.” The other guard grabbed Ambrosius from behind. “Closed event. Direct orders.”

Ambrosius landed on his back again, his head hitting the pavement. He looked up at the sky for a moment, dazed. The black flag. It was being lowered.

“NO!”

The tower door opened and a reporter stepped out, absently scrolling through a notepad. The guards moved to let her pass. Ambrosius seized his chance and barrelled through the opening, past the guards, into the courtyard.

“STOP! I DECLARE MERCY!”

His voice echoed off the walls, startling the audience in front of the gallows. Everyone turned to look at him. Ambrosius charged through the crowd, ignoring them. The gallows looked empty. Where was the convicted?

“I declare mercy!” He shouted again, pushing his way to the front. Then he froze. He could see the base of the gallows now. A tower worker was working the noose off an all-too-familiar figure laying in a crumpled heap on the ground.

Ballister Boldheart was dead.

-

Chapter 2

#nimona #fic #fics #the shape of truth #WHEW I haven't written a multi chaptered fic in ages #and this is just the beginning... #chapter 2 should be up next Tuesday!

[beautifulbitch-2]

Taco Tuesday at it's finest....

#taco tuesday #truth #food porn

[honestlyeddie-im-bi]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Hello! I was tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz! This is still from my buddie-have-sex-problems fic!

The thing is… Buck is a fucking liar who lies. Which is probably bad. Given how he’d sort of promised Eddie he would never lie to him. But the truth is that sex is sort of a big deal. It’s true that he doesn’t care if he and Eddie never have sex. He doesn’t. He would never push anyone to have sex before they’re ready. But the truth is Buck wants to have sex with Eddie so badly he’s scared. It’s always been one of his biggest problems. Buck is tactile and affectionate, and he likes touching and hugging the people he loves - and he’s never had to refrain himself from touching or hugging or touching someone he was in a relationship with. His Tinder dates had all been about sex, his relationships with his girlfriends had been fueled by sex.

No pressure tags! @mangacat201 @lover-of-mine and everyone else who wants to do it!

#tease tidbit tuesday #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #buddie #mickey writes #something i would really like to mention: #the author is ace #which means that i very well know how weird some people's relationship with sex can be #it's actually what sparked this fic! #and sometimes the things buck will say could sound... bad for someone who is ace #but the truth is that he doesn't know better #he just knows what his experience with sex has been up until this moment of his life #which is why he doesn't understand how he can suck so bad at having sex with eddie #given how much he loves him #we shall see what the truth about it all is 👀

[marriagetoxic]

marriagetoxin is a story about a marriage swindler helping an assassin find love only to end up the most prospective marriage match- THEY WANT TO KISS SOOO BAD

#im back here... to show you them... #i cried i wept GEROKINO ENDGAME #he loves her... what a tender moment... sniffle #marriagetoxin spoilers #marrigetoxin #gerokino truthing tuesday

[hajihiko]

I once read about how especial the group of dr2 were cause they all bonded SO quickly and by chapter 3 Monokuma HAD to introduce bullshit motives (a disease that changed personalities, starving them to death, Nagito) to get them to kill each other cause by that point they all were already so close that killing would have been impossible with normal motives.

No idea if that's accurate, would be extra sad if true cause then they had some serious bestie potential and Junko fucked it all up cause she felt like it hashtag senseless tragedy, HOWEVER this delivery is just way too funny

Disease, Starvation, Nagito

#I dont think Nagito was Monokumas doing... except maybe the Truth thing hmmm clever #I am not ragging on Nagito little bastard is growing on me but this is so funny #Talky talky Tuesday #Not an art

[arthistoryanimalia]

#TurtleTuesday:

“Sky Woman (she/her)” by Karen Ann Hoffman (Oneida)
Wood, velvet, glass beads, Czechoslovakian crystals, cotton thread, sterling silver beads
“Adopted from the artist and living with the Field Museum in 2018”
from the Field Museum’s Native Truths: Our Stories, Our Voices exhibition

#native american art #first nations art #indigenous art #contemporary art #2010s #oneida #Karen Ann Hoffmann #turtle #Sky Woman #Field Museum #Native Truths: Our Stories Our Voices #exhibition #museum visit #turtle tuesday #animals in art

[marjoree]

That's me, Dirty Hippie. I love this soap company. This is my first conditioner bar. I never shampoo anymore, haven't in over ten years. That's why I'm a dirty hippie 😎✌🏻

#truthful tuesday #pacha soap co.

[sillylittleguyinatrenchcoat]

extremely invested in the experiences of customer service mikoto kayano that ive made up in my brain

#i know that canonically he has a stable. office job or whatever. but i know and perceive the truth #i just find the idea of mikoto working at 7 different places all at once to gain a sense of normalcy in his life EXTREMELY funny #i want a 20 season comedy of mikoto being literally everywhere like they CANT escape him #fuuta goes to mcdonalds on tuesday. mikoto is there to take his order #on wednesday mappi buys groceries mikoto is the cashier #thursday kazui orders a pizza mikoto bikes down the street like his life depends on it. he runs into a pole killing the pizza instantly #they take a plane to get away from him. he is the Flight Attendant #i love him so much. not even my favorite character hes just so funny #also snuck in some. 050709 propaganda as protocol demands #milgram #milgram memes #mikoto kayano #shidou kirisaki #kazui mukuhara #fuuta kajiyama #0509 #0709

[carrickbender]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxX-Vkdus7_/?igshid=MTc4MmM1YmI2Ng==

Watch this, with the SOUND ON, then remember the words of Sinclair Lewis 80+ years ago:

"Why, there’s no country in the world that can get more hysterical—yes, or more obsequious!—than America. Look how Huey Long became absolute monarch over Louisiana, and how the Right Honorable Mr. Senator Berzelius Windrip owns his State. Listen to Bishop Prang and Father Coughlin on the radio—divine oracles, to millions. Remember how casually most Americans have accepted Tammany grafting and Chicago gangs and the crookedness of so many of President Harding’s appointees? Could Hitler’s bunch, or Windrip’s, be worse? Remember the Kuklux Klan? Remember our war hysteria, when we called sauerkraut ‘Liberty cabbage’ and somebody actually proposed calling German measles ‘Liberty measles’? And wartime censorship of honest papers? Bad as Russia! Remember our kissing the—well, the feet of Billy Sunday, the million-dollar evangelist, and of Aimée McPherson, who swam from the Pacific Ocean clear into the Arizona desert and got away with it? Remember Voliva and Mother Eddy?. . .Remember our Red scares and our Catholic scares, when all well-informed people knew that the O.G.P.U. were hiding out in Oskaloosa, and the Republicans campaigning against Al Smith told the Carolina mountaineers that if Al won the Pope would illegitimatize their children? Remember Tom Heflin and Tom Dixon? Remember when the hick legislators in certain states, in obedience to William Jennings Bryan, who learned his biology from his pious old grandma, set up shop as scientific experts and made the whole world laugh itself sick by forbidding the teaching of evolution?. . .Remember the Kentucky night-riders? Remember how trainloads of people have gone to enjoy lynchings? Not happen here? Prohibition—shooting down people just because they might be transporting liquor—no, that couldn’t happen in America! Why, where in all history has there ever been a people so ripe for a dictatorship as ours! We’re ready to start on a Children’s Crusade—only of adults—right now!"

It's here. And if we don't stamp it out now, the future holds much much worse.

#truthful tuesday #tt #it cant happen here #sinclair lewis #the rise of fascism #tw book burning #gop #this is a true story #your legacy

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 2: Ash to Ash

Chapter 1

Masterpost

-

“NO!” Ambrosius dashed forward.

The tower worker dropped the noose and backed up, startled. Ambrosius fell to his knees and scooped Ballister up into his arms. He was limp, like a rag doll. His head flopped to the side lifelessly.

“No…”

Ambrosius pressed fingers against his neck, hoping against hope he’d find a pulse, that Ballister had somehow survived the hanging. There was nothing.

“No… no no no!” Ambrosius broke down. He held Ballister's body close, shaking as tears fell down his face. He’d been too late. He’d been too late! He screamed his despair, as if letting loose would somehow fix everything.

“Get him out of here.” The Director’s voice could just be heard over the sound of cameras clicking in the background.

Ambrosius found himself being lifted from the ground and the body pried from his grasp. This time, he didn’t have the willpower to fight back. The world was a blur as he was escorted from the courtyard and shoved into a small storeroom in the back. The door locked behind him. 

Ambrosius stood in the middle of the room in stunned silence. He couldn’t think. His world had been shattered. His best friend, the man he’d loved, first a murderer, and then taken away. Taken away and never coming back. They were supposed to have had a future together. They’d work their way up the ranks, together. Get a house near The Institute, together. A house they could grow old in, together. All of that… suddenly gone. There was no fixing this.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard the lock click open behind him.

“Come on, everyone’s gone now.” the voice of a guard came.

Stumbling, Ambrosius stepped back outside. The courtyard was empty, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Where… where is the body,” he whispered.

“I don’t think—”

“Please. I just want to see him.”

The guard huffed and pointed down a hallway. “Just don’t make a scene again.”

Ambrosius shuffled down the hallway mindlessly. Sure enough, there was an open room at the end with a light on. Inside, another guard sat in a chair against the wall, scrolling through her phone. In the center of the room was a gurney. Ballister lay on it, still wearing the prison clothes he'd been hung in.

The guard glanced up at Ambrosius as he entered. Ambrosius paused.

“I just want to see him. We were… friends.”

“Sure. The morgue’s on their way.” the guard turned back to her phone.

Ambrosius pulled up a chair next to the gurney. He picked up Ballister's hand. It was getting cold. Jaw clenched, Ambrosius held the dead hand in his own.

At least the hanging was a swift death - a quick snap of the neck, and he'd been gone. Even his face had only changed color a little.

“Did he say anything?” Ambrosius found himself asking aloud, “Before they…”

“Not really.” The guard responded. “He was pretty quiet the whole time. Didn’t even say anything at the sentencing when they asked for a statement. Like he completely checked out.”

Ambrosius let that sink in.

“I should have been there for…” Ambrosius dropped the hand in order to dry his eyes. “If I hadn't taken so long…”

The guard shifted uneasily.

“I mean, we all knew what was coming. There was no stopping it.”

Ambrosius looked at Ballister's face, absolutely still, as if in an unnaturally deep sleep. How many times had Ambrosius watched him sleeping before, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest? Ambrosius wanted to shake him, as if the body would open its eyes, alive and full of life again.

“Was there any stopping it?”

Footsteps came down the hall before the guard could reply.

“Here for the body.” A man wearing the uniform of a morgue worker entered the room.

The guard jerked her head towards the gurney.

Ambrosius stood.

“I'm going with him.”

The morgue worker looked uneasy.

“Only facility personnel are allowed…” He hesitated - he dared not defy someone who was both a noble and a knight. He glanced at the guard.

The guard shrugged.

It was a short trip to the morgue. Ambrosius rode in the back of the van, holding Ballister's hand the whole way. On arrival, he followed the gurney down hallways to a room lined with furnaces. Ambrosius stared as the workers filed paperwork and transferred Ballister to a large cardboard box.

“He was a knight… He deserves a proper burial.” he found himself saying.

The workers glanced at him briefly before getting back to work.

“Orders from the top - immediate cremation.” One of them said as they wheeled the box to an open furnace.

“Wait!”

The workers stopped again.

Ambrosius stepped forward.

“Just… Give me a moment.”

He went to the box and pulled the lid back. Ballister lay there, frozen in time. Ambrosius gingerly placed a hand against the side of his cold face.

“I love you.” He whispered, too quiet for the workers to hear. “I'm so sorry��” He bit back tears.

He stood there, trying to keep himself together. Then one of the workers cleared their throat.

“We're on a schedule here.”

Ambrosius pulled back, wishing one last time that Ballister would open his eyes, that he'd just been asleep the whole time. It didn't happen.

The morgue workers replaced the lid and slid the box into the furnace, latching the door shut after it.

The furnace took over two hours to burn the body. Ambrosius watched it burn, the love of his life disappearing in front of him. Had it really been just that morning he'd seen him alive on the camera feed?

Eventually, the furnace shut off and cooled. The workers scraped the remains into a container for final processing, then scooped the ash into a plastic bag.

Ambrosius tried to intervene, asking to be given the remains.

“No. This needs to go to The Institute. Director's orders.” The worker told him.

Ambrosius felt crushed. Then the worker sighed, reached under the counter for another bag, and scooped some ash into it - no more than a handful.

“Here.” The worker held it out to Ambrosius.

Ambrosius took the bag, holding it tight in his hand.

“Thank you.”

The walk back to the dorms took forever. Everywhere Ambrosius looked, he saw a memory. Sitting on a bench together, watching the sun set behind the wall. Practicing swords drills together on the green after hours. Cracking jokes together about the food at the chow hall. Too many memories. Too much. He squeezed the bag with its handful of ash tightly. It was all he had left.

He broke down the moment he closed the door to his room. He let loose all the pain, all the grief that had piled on him that day. All the stress from the past few days since the queen's murder. Everything.

An alarm on his phone went off. Dinnertime. Ambrosius wasn’t hungry. And he definitely wasn’t ready to see anyone. Then there was a knock at the door.

“Go away!” Ambrosius yelled, his voice cracking.

The knocking came harder. Whoever it was wasn’t leaving.

Ambrosius got to his feet and stumbled to the door. “I said, go—” He threw open the door to see… no one. Ambrosius looked around. The hallway was empty. Nobody could have been knocking.

Great. Now he was hearing things. He closed the door and turned to throw himself back on his bed… But there was someone else sitting on his bed.

“What—”

The pink-haired teenager stuck a hand out. “The name’s Nimona.” 

-

Chapter 3

#angst #nimona #fic #the shape of truth #okay time to lighten things up a little... next Tuesday

[lyndashome]

Truthful Tuesday

As of late, I've been obsessing with maids. The uniforms, materials that they are made of, the undergarments, the heels, playing with one, being one, etc...

I see a uniform in my future but I have to ask my followers.

What do you think of maids, your experiences, fantasies, and want?

You can tell Maid Lynda through PMs, Asks, or Responses

#truthful tuesday

[thedrinkingg33k]

Had an in office day today. It was fine. My last living grandparent passed away today. She was my dad's father's second wife. He passed away years ago. They last time I saw her was my pop pop's funeral almost 20 years ago. Last time saw my aunt too.

I don't know how to feel about it. I should feel sad but i just feel disconnected. My dad and I are going down on Saturday day morning and coming back on Monday.

I want to go but I also just kind don't. I want to see my aunt but I don't want her to see me. I feel a lot of shame about my health and my body.

Feel the same way about the rest of my family. I want to see them. But I don't want to see them.

#mine #g33kspeaks #truthful tuesday #Well that came from nowhere before bed

[emblazons]

me, knowing my anxiety is at 300000 right now (because I had the most stressful week of my life the week before last, punctuated by my dad having a literal heart attack) watching my cat, who is only eating a little less than usual but otherwise behaving completely normal: you’re gonna die probably it’s time for the vet

#like. friends I’m so anxious I’m having heart palpitations #I went to the gym and couldn’t even do normal upper body because my neck and shoulders were so tense #but SOMEHOW #the thing my brain has decided is the problem is…my cat not eating all his kibble #BALSJNDJD ITS FUCKING ABSURD #and yet I would rather take him and combat the truth with the vet’s words than my own psyche #but also…lol I have a therapy apt on Tuesday too 😭 #the me tag #also my dad is okay if you read this far LMAO #the heart attack was minor but. his brother died from one + he doesn’t take care of his health well SO. anxieties lmao