#Life Is Cheap... but toilet paper is expensive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kelyon · 7 months ago

Text

Courtship 14: Bridesmaids

Lacey tells her friends about the wedding

Read on AO3

Wednesday morning, Miss French opened Game of Thorns and worked the morning shift, accompanied by the sullen, silent presence of her father. At noon, she got ready for her weekly lunch with Janine and Mara. She decided to wear all new clothes today. The future Mrs. Gold had to look her best at all times.

She started with a tight gray pencil skirt that went down to her knees. At Modern Fashions, she had managed to find thick socks that went up to her thighs but didn’t connect in the middle. That would keep her warm while still following Mr. Gold’s rule about having as little as possible covering her up. The socks were boring black, so she livened up the look with a pair of burgundy leather boots. Her top was a luscious maroon, almost see-through if she didn’t wear a camisole underneath. She had camisoles now, five of the same shirt in different colors. Once, that would have been an unthinkable luxury.

The only thing she didn’t have new was underwear. Modern Fashions had a limited selection of black and beige granny panties, and the bras were equally dumpy. Miss French deserved something more interesting than that. Well, Mr. Gold deserved something more interesting than that. She had been waiting for the right opportunity to visit Mara’s lingerie boutique. Maybe today, after lunch, after she picked up her birth control from the pharmacy.

Leaning into her mirror to put makeup on, Miss French tried not to contemplate what being on birth control would mean for her. Of course she didn’t want kids now, so Mr. Gold was right to stop that process before it could start. But she had always thought that she’d have children someday. Some nebulous future after college and a career and a husband and a house. Of course, those blurry dreams always had Mom around, enjoying being a grandmother.

“Fuck!” She’d stabbed herself with her eyeliner pencil. Tears welled up in her eyes and she quickly blotted them with toilet paper. “Fucking cheap shit.”

She would get new makeup at the pharmacy. Mr. Gold had given her enough money for it. She’d buy out the whole department, get the most expensive brands in every color they had.

Blinking and squinting, Miss French salvaged the rest of her eye makeup. Examining herself in the mirror, she looked good. She looked like Miss French, like the future Mrs. Gold. This was her first time showing off this side of herself to the big wide world. She’d better make a damn good impression.

****

This time, it was Mara who was first at Granny’s. When she saw Miss French from across the diner, she mimed a face of shock and awe.

“You look so good!” she said. “What’s going on? Do you have a business meeting later? Are you pitching Game of Thorns to some venture capitalists in Boston?”

“No, nothing like that,” Miss French laughed. She took off her hat and new coat, but left her gloves on. “I do have good news, but I want to wait until Janine gets here before I say anything.”

They didn’t wait long. Janine burst in, her salon smock peeking out from underneath her parka. After a round of hugs, she slid in the booth next to Mara.

“Hey strangers,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. The month started yesterday and I am booked.”

“Told you!” Mara said. “One week! That’s all it takes to flip your life upside down.”

Miss French laughed at that, a little too loudly. It was true! A week ago she had just finished her first date with Mr. Gold and now she was getting ready to marry him.

“Hey.” She put her gloved hand flat on the table to get their attention. “You guys order whatever you want, okay? Full meals. It’s on me.”

“Ooh, la di da!” Mara grinned. “Does this have to do with your good news?”

“You have good news?” Janine asked. “God knows we need more of that.”

“Let’s order first.” Miss French hid her coy smile behind her menu.

When Ruby the waitress stopped by the table, Janine and Mara both looked at her for confirmation before they ordered. She nodded enthusiastically.

“So,” Mara said when they were done. “Spill the beans. What the heck is going on?”

Miss French took a deep breath. Her heart was racing. She tried to pretend it was just excitement, that she didn’t have a shred of fear about telling her two best friends the best news of her life.

Slowly, deliberately, she took off first her right glove, then her left. She held out her left hand for them to see her ring. It took them a second to put the pieces together.

“Oh my God,” Janine whispered. “Did you get married?”

“Not yet,” Miss French said. “This is sort of a combination, an engagement ring and a wedding ring at the same time.”

“Wha--” Mara kept shaking her head. “When? Who?”

“There’s a man that I’ve been dating for a while. I wasn’t sure what it was so I didn’t want to tell you guys, but then on Sunday he proposed.”

“Oh my God!” Janine squealed. “That’s amazing! But I can’t believe you didn’t tell us! You sneak!”

“It all happened pretty fast,” Miss French admitted.

“How fast?” Mara asked. “How long have you had a secret lover?”

Miss French giggled. “Not too fast. I know getting married is a big step, but I really think I’m ready for it. And of course I want you two to be my bridesmaids.”

“Oh, Lacey!” Janine’s smile filled up her face. “Of course! God, we used to dream about being in each other’s weddings!”

“Have you set a date yet?” Mara asked. “And who the heck is your husband?”

“It’s actually coming up really fast,” Miss French said. “It’s gonna be on February twelfth, at Dodici’s.”

“Wait, the twelfth? Next Saturday?” Mara looked her up and down. “Are you pregnant?”

“No!”

“It’d be okay if you were. We’d support you.” That came from Janine, who was already supporting her mother and sister--and failing at it.

“I’m not!” Miss French repeated. “That’s not what’s going on.”

“Yeah, Uncle Moe isn’t really the shotgun type.”

“So why so fast?” Mara asked.

Miss French shrugged. “When you find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

“Who is this guy?” Mara was almost shouting now. “You never talked this way when you were dating Hunter.”

“Yeah, and Hunter was a catch,” Janine said. “Cool, rich and gorgeous? You were so lucky.”

“He was alright,” Miss French shrugged. “But I’m doing a lot better than Hunter now.”

“A lot better with…?”

Mara wouldn’t let this go. The fact that it was a perfectly reasonable question only made it more awkward that she didn’t want to answer. For just a few more minutes, she wanted to bask in her friends�� celebration. She wanted to stay in the fantasy that they would embrace and support her and the man she chose to marry. That they would have no reason not to.

She got a break when Ruby came back with their lunches. The waitress set their orders down, made sure everything was correct, and went on her way.

“I’m serious, Lacey,” Mara said as she took a bite of her lobster roll. “If you don’t tell us who you’re marrying, I’m gonna drag you into the harbor by your nostrils and stick you under water until you do.”

Miss French smiled sheepishly, and added extra pickles to her burger. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

“Why would we freak out?” Janine cut into her lasagna.

“Well, my dad freaked out when I told him. So did my uncle Manny.”

“Yeah, well they’re old farts,” Mara said. “We’re the hip, cool, new generation. And we’re your friends, so we’re on your side no matter what.”

“Really?” Lacey’s heart leapt to her throat..

“Yeah!” Mara said. Janine nodded her agreement.

“Okay,” Miss French took a deep breath. “And just… understand that this isn’t as bad as you might think it is.”

“Why all these cautions?” Mara asked. “Did you sell your soul to Lucifer or something?”

“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s not like that. It’s… It’s Mr. Gold.”

There was a moment’s silence.

Janine’s eyebrows furrowed. “What about Mr. Gold?”

“It’s him. He’s the man. I’m… going to marry him.”

Her friends’ expressions were exactly the same: Shock giving way to horror and sorrow. Janine set her fork down and looked at her lasagna like she had found a severed thumb inside it. Mara kept trying to say something and kept failing.

“W-W-W-Why?” she finally managed. “Lacey, are you okay? Does he have something over you? You know you have options. You can go to Sheriff Graham. Do you need us to give you money?”

“You don’t have money,” Miss French said coolly. “And I told you, this isn’t a bad thing. I like Mr. Gold. I want to marry him.”

“You--you can’t,” Janine sounded like she was about to cry. “He’s so old. And he’s so horrible.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“You can only say that because you don’t owe him money.”

“No, I owe him more than that,” she said. “He’s given me things you can’t even imagine. And I love it. I want more of it. I’m going to marry him and I want you guys to be there with me. Please.”

Mara set down her lobster roll. She seemed to have put together where all this newfound cash was coming from.

“He’ll pay for your dresses!” Miss French tried. “And Janine, you can do my hair! Do one of those crazy updos you like to do? I’ll pay you for your time!”

“Lacey,” her cousin whispered.

“Me being in this position will be a good thing for all of us,” she went on. “Mr. Gold throws money at me, I can pass it on! I can help you guys!”

“Oh my God, he pays you?” Disgust painted Mara’s face. “And you take it?”

“Yeah, I take everything he gives me,” Miss French snapped. “Take it any way he wants me to.”

“And you’re proud of this?” Mara shook her head. “Lacey, don’t you know what this makes you?”

“A whore,” Miss French said bluntly. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m marrying him, so I won’t be a whore anymore.”

“What will you be?” Mara went on. “You think people will call you any less of a golddigger just because you’re wearing a ring? Do you think he won’t know you’re bought and paid for? Lacey, he’ll use that as an excuse to do anything to you!”

“That’s what I’m hoping for!”

“I mean he’ll treat you like shit. This is a classic recipe for you being in danger.”

“I’m not in danger.” She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Gold isn’t a monster. He’s just a man who gets what he wants--and right now, he wants me! I think that’s great!”

Janine seemed to have shut down for a few minutes. When she finally looked up, her sky blue eyes were full of tears. “You’ll be a totally different person once you’re married to him. You’re already different.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Miss French said sharply. “I want to be different. I want to be better. Mr. Gold is my ticket to an actual life and not just scraping by to survive all the time. And I can find ways to take you with me! He told me he wants me to take care of you two. We can do this together!”

“Do you mean…?” Mara made a face.

“No! No, of course not.”

“He’ll ask for something like that,” Janine said. “You know a man like that is probably some kind of pervert.”

“He’s the best kind of pervert,” Miss French told them proudly. “He’s the kind of pervert I’m into.”

“Oh my God.” Janine covered her mouth with her hand. “How could you do this, Lacey?”

Defeated, Miss French slumped in her booth. “Why did I think you two would be different? Like, I understand my dad going apeshit because I’m having sex with a man he personally hates, but I thought you guys would get it.”

“He’s a bad man,” Janine whispered. “He’ll make you do bad things.”

She scoffed. “You sound like a child. That’s how Chloe would understand the world.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mara said. “I don’t think this relationship is good for you, and I know that being married to him will be worse. Worse for you, Lacey. He will hurt you!”

“That’s what I get off on,” Miss French said in a catty stage whisper. “I like the way Mr. Gold treats me. I want to be the person he thinks I can be.”

“Oh God!” Janine said again. She pushed herself away from the table and ran crying into the bathroom.

Mara gave her a withering look, then ran after her friend.

Miss French stayed where she was. She ate her burger, and waited for them to come back. They would come back. If nothing else, they wouldn’t waste a free lunch.

Would they?

After waiting for half an hour, she tossed a fifty on the table and left.

****

She stormed the short walk from Granny’s to Dark Star Pharmacy. Those fucking bitches. Those small-minded, puritanical idiots! Couldn’t they see what was right in front of them? Were they so blinded by hate and fear that anything to do with Mr. Gold automatically became unclean? Who were they to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? Who were they to judge her? Fucking virgins, so obsessed with being good they’d never get a chance be alive.

She ground her teeth.

It wasn’t fair. She wanted to be with Mr. Gold. He made her feel happy, he made her feel everything. Why couldn’t anyone in her life understand that? Why did gaining him mean she had to lose them?

Was it really too much to ask for both?

When she got to the pharmacy, she grabbed a basket and immediately started filling it with the most expensive things you could find in a drug store in Storybrooke. The brand-name organic lotion in all the offbeat scents? She got one of each. The salon-approved shampoo and conditioner for curly hair? Yes please! Shaving cream and razors, nail polish and face masks, she got all of it. Everything she’d ever thought was too indulgent to spend on herself. Everything she used to think she was a better person for not using. Lacey French hadn’t needed to fuss over her appearance, her brains would carry her everywhere.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore. Mrs. Gold would be a stupid slut and she’d have more luxuries than that delusional child could ever have dreamed of.

She rounded the corner and found herself in the magazine aisle. There was a girl, maybe twelve or so, with lank dark hair and owlish eyes that were too big for her face. She was staring at the magazines, at the models and celebrities with big boobs and perfect smiles. Her expression was something between rapture and starvation.

Lacey recognized the feeling. The bone-deep hunger for the lives that you knew were fake but wanted to be real. It was frivolity and vanity, but it was also joy and glamour. To be the girl everyone looked at--or even just the girl who could fit in with the girls everyone looked at. To be wanted and idolized. To always wear the right clothes, say the right words, be the right person. To be pretty, effortlessly pretty. To sparkle and shine and feel like you can do anything.

And then to hate yourself for wanting something you’d never have. Something that no one ever really has. Even the models on the magazines don’t really live the life they’re selling. You’re smart enough to know it's a lie but you still hate yourself for not having it. You want to believe in the dream, want it so much more than anything in your real life.

The girl looked at Miss French, head tilted, mouth open a little. The kid was dressed in loose jeans and dirty sneakers. Her top half was covered by an insulated hoodie big enough to belong to a grown man. She looked at Miss French in a form-fitting wool coat and burgundy boots. She looked at the styled hair, the makeup it had taken her half an hour to get right.

Miss French caught the girl’s eye and winked. “It gets better,” she said. “You won’t be in middle school forever.”

Then she grabbed a copy of Vogue and a copy of Cosmopolitan and put them in her basket. It was getting heavy now, so she might as well check out. She went to the prescription pick-up counter and waited for Mr. Clark, the short little pharmacist who was always sneezing.

“Hi!” she said when he came to the counter. It was easier now to be bright and chipper, to play the role of Mr. Gold’s fiancee. “I’m here to pick up a prescription.”

“Oh right.” Mr. Clark nodded, then turned his head to sneeze into his elbow. “Dr. Whale called me at home last night for this. He said the order came from Mr. Gold?”

“Mmm-hmm!” Miss French smiled.

Mr. Clark gave her a puzzled look. “You’re Lacey French, right? From the flower shop? Why is Gold throwing his weight around to get you an express prescription?”

Her anger came back with a vengeance. She didn’t owe answers to a pharmacist. She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She didn’t owe anything to anyone. At that moment, something inside her turned sharp and hard and brittle. The hot lava of her rage solidified into an obsidian blade.

She smiled.

“Well you can see what the pills are, can’t you?” Her voice was cheerful and patronizing, like she was talking to a kindergartner she was trying not to murder.

“Yeah.” The pharmacist was oblivious. He looked down at the label on the white paper bag. “It’s birth control.”

Miss French leaned over the counter to get in his snot-nosed face. “Why do you think Mr. Gold is buying me birth control? Hmm? I’ll give you a hint--it’s not so I can fuck anybody else!”

“Jesus,” he whispered. “Look, I’m sorry, I--” He turned away for another sneeze, then came back, wiping his nose. He stuck the used tissue in his pants pocket. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Yeah, well you did,” Miss French said. “So why don’t you just check me out and I can move on with my life?”

The pharmacist exhaled a long breath. After a quick moment to douse his hands with sanitizer, he began to ring up her stuff.

****

As she left the pharmacy, Miss French looked down the street towards Mr. Gold’s shop. Part of her wanted to run to him. She wanted to take refuge in the steady warmth of his presence. She wanted to unburden herself, tell him what a rotten day she was having, that she’d been betrayed and abandoned by people she’d known since she was born. Maybe he would listen to her, maybe he’d have good advice. Or maybe he’d just fuck her until those bitches didn’t matter anymore. Maybe he’d punish her for needing them so much in the first place.

But he hadn’t asked her to visit him today, and she didn’t want to interrupt his work. She couldn’t go demanding his time and attention over every little thing that bothered her. Mr. Gold was a busy man, an important man. When he focused on her, it was because she was important. She couldn’t ask for that all the time.

Besides, she was an adult. She could deal with stuff on her own, especially this petty shit. Mr. Gold had given her money and a shadow of his power. She wore his ring and soon she would have his name. What did it matter what lesser people thought of her? What did it matter that a pharmacist gawked? What did it matter that a hairdresser and a lingerie seller might never talk to her again?

She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She had better start acting like it.

#courtship #rumbelle #golden lace #rumbelle fic #golden lace fic

6 notes · View notes

seat-safety-switch · 2 years ago

Text

Sure, I’d had lots of bad ideas in my life. Most of them never got past the planning part. My dad used to always tell me that ideas were cheap, and that actually doing the work was the only thing that mattered. He was wrong, especially since those startup trillionaires came down from Europa and plugged us all into that machine that pays us to have ideas.

What’s the best one I had? Well, you probably use it every single day. It’s the Toilet Profit Evaluator. Of course, that wasn’t my name for it. I didn’t even have a name for this thing, when I thought of it at first. At that time, I was mostly curious. And while curiosity killed the cat, it also gave rise to this glorious machine, which has made other men extremely rich at my expense. I did get twenty bucks in Alivespend®, though.

Here’s how it works. When you poop, this gadget in your toilet counts up the cost of all the food you ate to make that poop. Ideally, you want to have produced very little waste, so that you got the maximum value for your money and that your body achieved quality nutrition. The first couple times those CEOs tried it out, they told me, they realized that eating scrambled eggs mixed with gold leaf was wasting a lot of cash. Cash they could have spent buying entire civilizations. So they cut out the gold, big savings. I, of course, didn’t see a penny of those savings.

Of course, like any disruptive technology, it was hard to predict exactly what would happen. Anyone who made food with bran in it went bankrupt practically overnight. And laxative companies, well, they dried up too. Suddenly, everyone cared about reducing emissions as much as possible, even if it caused a little bit of intestinal discomfort for a day or two. Folks were posting their high scores – cleverly labeled as “Bottom Lines,” that wasn’t one of mine – and trying to beat each other to peak human efficiency. Often, those savings helped pay for the visit to the emergency room, where gastrointestinal doctors looked with complete confusion and then got their names on some very complicated papers.

I’m not writing this to seek any kind of profit, or even heroic recognition. While those things would be nice, all I cared about was advancing the human race. So the next time you take a highly optimized shit, think about me.

100 notes · View notes

oldfilmsflicker · 1 year ago

Text

new-to-me #844 - Life Is Cheap… But Toilet Paper Is Expensive

#2023 in films #Noirvember

11 notes · View notes

ahandfulwithquietness · 2 years ago

Text

T.E. Lawrence and his fondness for pranks and practical jokes

Many people who knew Lawrence, noticed his unique sense of humor and fondness of jokes and the subtle, spontaneous and individual nature of his pranks.

While at Carchemish he decorated Hogarth’s normally simple mud-walled room with pink satin curtains trimmed with lace and adorned with big pink bows. A pink cushion, hairpins, cheap scents and other reminders of domestic life were distributed about the room to make Hogarth feel “at home.” Hogarth not unexpectedly flew into something of a rage when he discovered the joke, but Lawrence, according to Woolley, grinned over the jest for days. Yet (also according to Woolley) Lawrence was himself unusually sensitive to ridicule and could not tolerate jokes made at his own expense.

T.E. also decorated the lintel of the main doorway into the house at Carchemish (it was a sun disk, with crescent moon, and wings carved with a screw-driver and a knife) to imitate Hittite design. His delight with this joke would be renewed each time a visitor to the excavations paused to admire the forged Hittite relic.

In Seven Pillars of Wisdom T.E. described how he parodied the style of Auda's storytelling to the amusement of everyone present, including Auda himself: "Everyone had heard that sunrise twenty times, in its immense bathos; an agony piled up of linked phrases, repeated and repeated with breathless excitement by Auda to carry over for hours the thrill of a raiding story in which nothing happened; and the trivial rest of it was exaggerated the degree which made it like one of Auda's tales; and yet, also, the history of the walk to market at Wejh which many of us had taken. The tribe was in waves of laughter on the ground. Auda laughed the loudest and longest, for he loved a jest upon himself; and the fatuousness of my epic had shown him his own sure mastery of descriptive action."

Meinertzhagen claimed that during the time of Paris Peace Conference he and Lawrence hid themselves at the top of the stairs of the Astoria Hotel, unfurled rolls of toilet paper, and dropped them down in long strips on the heads of Lloyd George, Balfour, and Lord Hardinge, who were standing in the lobby, prompting Hardinge to remark: “There is nothing funny about toilet paper.”

According to Graves, Lawrence once climbed a tower at All Souls to hang the Hejaz flag from its peak, kidnapped a deer from the Magdalen College deer park, and rang the station bell he had captured from Tell Shahm from his window at night. He was at the time a thirty-one-year-old retired officer.

#t.e. lawrence #lawrence of arabia #april fools

30 notes · View notes

khaleesiofalicante · 7 months ago

Note

I’m American bidets are not very common.

They make some really cheap toilet paper like you might as well use leaves but they make really soft toilet paper like a cloud. (Way more expensive) They also make wipes that you can buy and keep next to the toilet paper that you use on top of toilet paper. That’s how we survive!

Saw you are going on vacation! So excited for you! Going to get to spend time on a beach somewhere?! My dream is going to the Maldives, after reading about it in IALS just made me want to go more! ❤️

If you can’t find the flushable wipes for your bathroom (don’t really flush them they are bad for your pipes) baby wipes always work in a pinch!

Ngl talking about wipes makes me sick to my stomach (what even is this life????) But thank you for the advice x

Maldives is AMAZING. I've not been but it's on my list. It's very similar to Sri Lanka (in terms of the beaches) so I'm in no rush to go there hehe.

5 notes · View notes

linnorabeifong · 1 year ago

Text

"I'll Be Waiting"

Summary: “Her eyes are a soft color. A delicate green like the expensive jade bracelets all the heiresses of the Earth Kingdom wear. He loved the sound those bracelets made as they rattled against each other and jingled softly. He decided then that he liked her too.”

Notes: What do y'all think ? I kind of wanted to write some cute teenage LinZolt and write about dancing because of my own background. Also how would you feel, about smutty chapters later ? What direction should I take this happy ending or sad ending ? Also I want to flesh out Ember Island, and establish it as having it's own unique culture and dialect. How do we feel about some French-speaking LinZolt ? (translations will be provided of course).

Critiques: Do y'all have constructive criticism ? I'm still developing my sense of style and I have no writing experience and have never taken a creative writing course in my life so I need all the help I can get.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51405040

Chapter 1:

Kenzo or as his friends liked to call him “Zolt '' was new to Little Caldera. Frankly, he never imagined himself living in such a nice area. Solidly middle class, with the best schools and entertainment to be found in Republic City. Unlike the other boroughs every shop, residence and school there had electricity. Located just on the cusp of old cranefish town, and just outside of downtown, it was a short walk from Yue Bay. The harbor brought in all sorts of business. Little Caldera had a special character to it, its own unique appeal. Spotless and crime free but with great nightlife. High end restaurants and cheap seafood were both in abundance. Contradictory. Perfect. Well, nearly perfect but Caldera’s flaws didn’t touch the likes of Zolt.

Through some stroke of luck his mother managed to find a job as a dance instructor. The position came with lodging right above the studio. It was a small space but more luxurious than either of them had known previously. Two closet-sized bedrooms, a kitchen that was more of a hallway and an entry way that just barely managed to fit a genkan, coat closet and an armchair.

The apartment while small was by no stretch of the imagination shabby. It was well maintained despite its age. The walls were freshly painted and papered. The entryway in a rich cream, the kitchen was a sunny yellow, the bedrooms sported white and crimson wallpaper with a sun motif. They had real hardwood floors. The kitchen appliances were brand new, and for the first time in his life Zolt experienced the pleasure and convenience of an ice box.

They even had their own private bathroom, which was surprisingly large compared to the other rooms. The toilet portion was walled off from the bathing area and the sink stood in between the two. The bath was wonderfully deep, made to be soaked in. To his surprise, the first night he spent in the apartment and drew himself a bath the water heater actually worked. He had discovered this when he reflexively heated up the water with his bending and nearly boiled himself like a dumpling. At his previous home the promise to repair the heater was never actually met. Over the years he had taught himself to warm the water, a skill he no longer needed here.

Every day he discovered a new luxury. The apartment even had underfloor heating, his need for slippers was gone. Despite the lessons going on at all hours of the day and night below them and their close proximity to their neighbors it was surprisingly quiet. The thick walls muffled the sound.

The views were perfect. The windows were large and spilled in bright wonderful light, only obstructed by the glorious shade of the Sakura trees planted all over his neighborhood. From the kitchen he could take in the view of the perfectly manicured street in front of the studio. His bedroom had an especially nice view. Behind the studio there was the nicest apartment building he had ever seen. It was built in a u-shape around a huge courtyard, complete with a fountain, pool, turtleduck pond, rose garden and a playground. It stood five stories tall and was built in a traditional style. The countless balconies were all decorated with paper lanterns and fire lilies. The fire escapes would actually be handy in case of emergency, unlike the rusted ones he knew. He had never seen the Imperial Palace of the fire lord, but he imagined it to look just like this, elegant and overflowing with flowers. It was his newfound vision of paradise.

The end of summer was fast approaching, but he still needed something to fill the last of the golden weeks with. He ends up brushing up on his dancing skills, not that he needed to, he was a natural. His mother had made sure of that. Before he could walk, he could dance. Since toddlerhood he had studied every type there was, from the Fire Nation to the Water Tribes. He was well versed in traditional and contemporary forms. His technique was precise, he was fluid, a master of the countless skills each genre demanded. The head of the studio quickly figures this out and offers him a deal. He signs on as a student teacher, requiring him to be at the studio at least twice a week. In exchange he receives free lessons, and they’ll cover his private school tuition. His mother is overjoyed at the thought of sending him to “Avatar Roku High School” -the best in the city. She squeals in delight when he takes the offer. His summer was very quickly filled with rehearsals, costume fittings, lessons and performances.

He’d taught groups before but this is his first time teaching a private lesson. For the life of him he couldn’t remember her name. What did Asuka say it was ? It had an “r” in it somewhere. The girl is staring at her form in the mirror, warming up. He assesses her. She is a sleek little thing, like a cat strutting through an alleyway at night. Her skirt is red and has a slit making it easier to see her motion. Her tiny top matches it and reveals her abdomen. Judging by her curvy build and outfit she must be from Ember Island like him. She’s practicing her fa’arapu. Tui and La, she has the speed down. She’s nearly perfect. He can easily fix this.

He approaches her and introduces himself, he encourages her to continue warming up. After a while he comes up behind her. She stops, he places one hand on her stomach and the other on one of her delicate shoulders. “You’ve got the motion, muscle control and the flexibility. You're just stiff and your posture is bad. You're tucking in your spine like this” he says demonstrating. “ and you’re hunching your shoulders, like you’re trying to make yourself smaller” he explains as he gently adjusts her position. There, now she’s perfect. “Don’t do that, you’re a pretty girl. Have some confidence” he continued. He didn’t mean to say that last part out loud.

He looks up into the mirror, taking in her face for the first time. She really is a pretty girl. Her cheeks are flushed pink, she is biting her lip. It is a cute nervous habit, it makes her lips even redder.

He catches her gaze in the mirror. Her eyes are a soft color. A delicate green like the expensive jade bracelets all the heiresses of the Earth Kingdom wear. He loved the sound those bracelets made as they rattled against each other and jingled softly. He decided then that he liked her too.

#legend of korra #lin beifong #lightning bolt zolt #linzolt #ao3 #meet cute #dancing #francais #french language

6 notes · View notes

disco-elysium-via-polls · 1 year ago

Text

3. "I think I didn't want to be a cop anymore. That's why I tried to flush my cop life down the toilet."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Well..." He doesn't know what to say.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - His eyes express a rare condolence. Then he picks it up:

KIM KITSURAGI - "Lucky we found it. You should take stock of what remains, just to be sure some has not made it into the hands of the RCM's adversaries. Organized crime and the like. There might have been police secrets in your notes."

"Okay, I'll do that."

Say nothing.

"I don't know, man. Sounds like an order. I don't take those."

KIM KITSURAGI - "It would also not hurt to start taking notes on the case. Anyway, where were we..." The lieutenant peers into the trash container where soggy cartons and rags stink uninvitingly.

New task: Read your ledger and name the case

TUTORIAL AGENT - Some items, such as the ledger you found, are interactable. Go to your INVENTORY and select the INTERACT tab to read your paperwork.

4. Dig in Hobocop style -- for extra content.

TRASH CONTAINER - Wow, an Armistice calibre 50 nock cannon, half wrapped in paper tissues! So shiny...

What's a nock cannon?

Where?! I can't see it.

TRASH CONTAINER - It's a giant rifle and it's very expensive. Not as expensive as that fat string of pearls snaking among the rotten banana peels however...

And is that a Cordon Electrics pre amp with Elektra f2 tubes? It is! That catches quite a price, we're talking 12,000 easy. Unless you're into hi-fi yourself?

I am into hi-fi!

I'll sell it.

TRASH CONTAINER - That's too bad, because none of those things are actually in there. There's just food waste and crisp wrappings.

A cruel jest... there must be *something*...

I knew it. (Withdraw from the dumpster's cavernous depths.)

TRASH CONTAINER - All you see is a broken mug with a racist depiction of *the yellow man* frolicking in saffron.

An antique?

(Take the mug.)

TRASH CONTAINER - Only in its social sensibility.

Our low Perception missed this earlier, but Hobocop came through for us.

(Take the mug.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Mhm..." The lieutenant briefly glances at the mug, then returns his sight to the trash.

4. Close the lid.

TRASH CONTAINER - The container sounds a muffled gong.

KIM KITSURAGI - "That's one thing off the list..." The lieutenant sounds relieved. "I think we got it all."

Open the lid again.

[Leave.]

Let's check out those items we picked up.

YELLOW MAN MUG

This broken eared mug somehow made its way into the Whirling-in-Rags dumpster. It depicts a person of Samaran descent frolicking in a field of saffron flowers, buck-toothed and grinning feeble-mindedly. It seems to be a cheap knock-off of some colonial-era antique.

>Interact

YELLOW MAN MUG - It's just a racist mug, what's there to *read* here? Not much.

There's quite a lot to read into here, actually. Look at all that content.

Got it. [Leave.]

YELLOW MAN MUG - Oh, boy. Here we go. What are you going to say about a broken, tossed away mug that *you* dug out of the garbage?

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi

8 notes · View notes

romanceyourdemons · 2 months ago

Text

DOOMED LESBIAN ROMANCE SCANDAL

#life is cheap toilet paper is expensive #ryddles

9 notes · View notes

virtualduckbrigade · 11 months ago

Text

see also: dont use neosporin. Youre more likely to get an infection or have an adverse reaction with neosporin. I disinfect with rubbing alcohol and then just use regular vaseline/petroleum jelly.

Other adulting tips:

-Make sure you know how to cook from scratch at least two small things. my reccommendations are always scrambled eggs and rice. Do not go hungry or waste all your savings on pizza.

-Get A Guy or Several. Not romantically, unless you want to ig. This is also gender neutral. Dont know how to rotate your own tires? Call your Guy. Dont wanna do your own taxes (in the US?) Call your Guy. Need a small spinal adjustment or haircut? literally-- GET A GUY!! besides, no one sounds cooler than someone who sees a problem and is like "yeah, hold on, I know A Guy-" and then calls up said Guy. the skills you are trying do do on your own are professions that take years to learn for a reason.

-get life insurance. DO NOT GET TERM LIFE, INSURANCE. get WHOLE life insurance. the earlier you start, the lower your premiums for life. "but im young and healthy!" YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS. make sure your loved ones get some cash for your passing. and then get a Life Insurance Guy.

-if you are a renter: get a magic eraser and wash out the inside of your shower with it. thank me later.

-there are certain items that are much more competitively priced than other items, and the knock offs say "buy me to save money!" this is the devil speaking. you will use way too much of the stuff and just have to buy more. plus the version you got SUCKS. Items that fall under this category i find are Dish Soap (Dawn is Best), Laundry detergent, toilet paper, Paper towels, and erm. femme hygene products

-there are certain items where the more expensive one will try to make you feel bad for "only" getting the cheap stuff. This, too, is the devil speaking. there are items where the quality difference is so slim it doesnt matter. i most often find these are: Butter, vegetable and olive oils, pure spices, flour, pasta, milk, eggs, and other dairy.

Dear people living on your own for the first time:

Here’s some advice I wasn’t told from the myriad of posts before that I wish I’d been given before

Wash the OUTSIDE of your pots and pans as well as the cooking surface. I’ve had a few roommates now who have only cleaned the inside and I’ve had to replace a $150 set of cookware twice.

“its only one time, how bad could using metal on nonstick cookware really be?” very bad. don’t do this.

Buy a rice cooker. Buy the middle tier rice cooker. Cheap ones will burn your rice, high tier ones are too expensive. Rice is good and cheap and, really, you don’t actually have to wash it if you don’t care about making gourmet food.

Buy band-aids. You don’t think you need band-ads until you need a band-aid, and by then it’s too late. (if you don’t follow this advice, a paper towel and some tape is an acceptable solution while you go get real bandages and neosporin)

You are on tumblr, which means you probably spend most of your time in one spot on a computer or phone. if this spot doesn’t have a trash can in arm’s reach, put one there.

I spent 4 years piling trash on my desk in increasingly precarious ways until I had a designated area to put it. Trash cans can and should go anywhere there is a frequent generation of trash, typical locations be damned.

If you live with one or two roommates, discuss placing empty boxes in the back of your fridge and freezer. You probably don’t need all the space that the standard 5-person-family fridge provides, and tupperware will be shoved back there and left to stink up the entire appliance.

Get a wall calendar, put it somewhere communal, and have everyone put their household-relevant schedules on it. Communication is by far the weakest link with roommates (even good ones!) and having something to reference for appointments is always good

#youre getting quacked at #rustled feathers in the night

73K notes · View notes