#i should really try harder to sell it or just give it to a friend

[theomancycos]

This Medli costume was a personal project, but I fully keep forgetting that I made it and haven't worn it since finishing it.

[boopshoops]

TWST OC INTRODUCTION - TCOAV

Joel Bullion - Makings of Greatness

Name: Joel Bullion

Nicknames: Buzzbait, Thistle

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/they

Sexuality: Aromantic Asexual

Birthday: November 30 (Sagittarius)

Age: 39 in AU 37 in canon

Height: 6'2 or 188cm

Voice Claim(s): Jellzybelle

Twisted from: John Silver from Treasure Planet.

Unique Magic: "Rattle the Stars" Summons exactly that in the palm of Joel's robotic hand: a star. However, this is not just any star, this star's life flashes before your eyes, resulting in a controlled supernova. It creates a burning hot flash bang, with tremors forming cracks in the ground depending on the magnitude of the star itself. The explosion knocks enemies away from Joel. The size of the star dictates how much magic they will use, as well as how much blot he will accumulate. He is unsure what the maximum size of a star he can create is, but he does know that he has gotten dangerously close to overblotting while trying. In his current state, the blast is not deadly and primarily works to stun opponents or, at most, render them unconscious.

Grade: Teaches Freshman, Sophomores, and Juniors

Class: Teaches Culinary Crucible, Astrology, and Tech. Occasionally aids with Physical Education.

Hobbies: Treasure hunting, finding constellations, hiking, traveling, spelunking, deadlifting, cooking.

Likes: Pernil, old school tech, adventure novels, hard cash, or anything he can sell for gold really, pranking Ezra and Crowley, telescopes, planetary science, zodiac signs.

Dislikes: Grading (this man should not be a teacher), any dish with fish in it, sticklers, staying still, overt formality, the cold, humorless individuals.

Fears: Immobility, optometric illnesses, not amounting to anything, not living his life to the fullest, birds.

Summary: "Why does he even teach?" is a question that crosses the mind of almost every NRC student in one of Joel's classes. He's shameless, sarcastic, and finds entertainment in messing with students and staff alike. Teaching is only a side job for him, his real passions lie elsewhere. Nonetheless, he is highly skilled in a variety of subjects, making him indispensable.

He abuses that privilege, of course, taking the time to have as much fun as he can in what he calls a boring dump of a school and make sure everyone around him suffers for it. Though this usually just amounts to light teasing and pranks. They do not behave like an educator or mentor. He does not typically enjoy interacting with most of his students in a serious manner, and the ones they do enjoy talking with are treated more like casual, distant friends.

With the responsibility of teaching so many subjects heavy on their shoulders, he does make plenty of time to shrug it off to work on his true dream: getting as rich as possible. Now, now, there are plenty of figures at NRC who want that, yeah? But Joel wants the lottery. He wants to struggle, look high and low, and come out above everyone with something ancient, shiny, and, hopefully, covered in expensive jewels. Over everything and everyone, they enjoy the hunt of it. To the point where he values it above people and relationships. Hell, they'd fly to the moon to get it if they had to.

Outfit Inspiration

Author's Notes: JOEL. Ahhh Joel. I'll admit, this was harder to write compared to the others! Everyone else's development, personality, struggles, etc. came very naturally to me, while, with joel, I really had to sit and brainstorm for awhile. Though, I can now say that he has grown on me a lot, and I plan on giving him more of a role in TCOAV like Ezra! I have lots of plans for him! Old ass man <33 (affectionate, /j) this will probably be the last new TCOAV oc for a while! But just know, there will be more >:)

Tag list! v

@lowcallyfruity @kitwasnothere @distant-velleity @thehollowwriter @justm3di0cr3

@skriblee-ksk @cecilebutcher

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (22)

The second section is NSFW. Sexy times where they're both still figuring it out.

***

It's surprising how quickly word of their new market spreads. The alcohol sells – the bottles of wine that the mess hall never stocks, the clear spirits that smell like paint remover to Vander – and the gas masks sell so well that Silco's keeping a waiting list for their next two orders.

Clothing is harder. It's too hard to know what size of clothing will sell, what style or colours. The uncut fabric still takes up a lot of space and requires someone able to sew.

"And we'd need somewhere to store it," Silco complains as they look through the captain's stock. He keeps running his fingers over the fabrics, fingertips grazing over anything smooth or shiny.

"Our place?"

"Somewhere I'm happy for other people to come and see the goods," Silco replies. He firmly believes the safest approach is to make sure no one knows where they sleep.

"We should ask Babette." Silco gives him a doubtful look, so Vander explains, "Her workers are probably the only ones who are going to pay just to look good. If we asked what they want, maybe we could get a selection and take it to them?"

"The captain's docked here overnight. We'll go now, check with Babette and come back."

Babette's working on the riverside this week, in a small fisherman's cottage with the tents set up behind it. They end up sitting in the front room, surrounded by scantily dressed women, waiting for Babette to be free. Vander's trying not to stare at cleavage and high cut skirts, but Silco's actually chatting away to a couple of girls in the corner, nodding and taking down notes.

He's relieved when Babette returns and leads them to a tiny kitchen out the back, with a small but serviceable table. Babette uses a small step to climb onto the chair.

"Vander," Babette says warmly, "and who's your friend?"

"Silco," Vander says, ten futures to face Silco's unimpressed expression. "I grew up on the riverside. Babette's been here as long as the bridge has."

"Longer, dear." Babette ashes her cigarette into a glass bowl. "I came here when they were building that. I remember you running wild in the streets, ten years old and trying to pretend you were grown, pouting when Callie wouldn't let you in the front door."

Honestly, Vander didn't think anyone would remember that but him.

Leaning an elbow on the table, Silco looks at him. Silco doesn't smile but there's amusement in his voice. "You tried to sneak into a brothel at ten?"

"Only to pickpocket my clients. Really, if you're not good enough to lift a wallet on the street, you shouldn't be dabbling in petty theft." Thankfully, she doesn't go into any further details. Vander has no desire to let Silco know about the time he had to run from a potential mark and hide in a barrel of chum for twenty minutes. He stank of fish for days. "Now, how can I help you boys? You didn't seem too interested in another companion."

Now, Silco smiles. "We have a business opportunity for you."

They make a list and go back to the ship. They find what they can and pay for it, and then return with their pile to Babette's back door. There are lots of flimsy fabrics, things that shine and sparkle in the candlelight. Lots of strong, bold colours.

They spread the rolls of fabric over the table and haggle good-naturedly over the price.

***

Vander's grown used to sleeping in beds that are only just wide enough for his shoulders. He's used to turning in bed very carefully, so he doesn't roll out of it by accident. The new bed that Silco buys them is double the width of the company bunks. With a thick wooden baseboard and headboard, with curves etched into the wood. It reminds Vander of the Piltover bridge, the combination of square lines and curves, a mix of practicality and beauty.

"Are you going to keep running your hands over that or are you going to get into bed?"

Vander looks over his shoulder. Despite the sharp words, Silco doesn't look annoyed. He's been sharper than usual tonight, but Vander mostly put that down to the frustration of taking the bed apart to fit it through the fissure entrance and then getting it to fit back together.

It's good and sturdy now. Vander gives the frame a little shake and it doesn't budge. "Nothing wrong with admiring a job well done."

Silco rolls his eyes and starts unbuckling his jacket. They've made the bed with a piece of cotton as a sheet and a few blankets. One pillow each, purchased from the company store. Vander wants to jump straight into it but it's probably better to strip his clothes off first. It'll be smudged with coal dust soon enough.

"You said," Silco says calmly, hanging up his clothes for tomorrow, "you wanted to fuck me when we got a bed."

Vander jerks in surprise, and then hears his shirt seam tear.

"Damn it. Remind me to fix that in the morning," he says reflexively. "And, yeah, I remember saying that. Why?"

"We now have a bed." Silco sounds fine about it but his knuckles are white as he unbuttons his pants. He slides them down and then shakes them out, hooking them on a loose nail in the wall. "So we might as well."

Vander grins to himself. It's such a practical way to approach sex – he doesn't know what else he expected from Silco.

Vander leaves his own clothes folded messily in the corner. "Have you done this before?"

"Have you?" Silco counters.

"There were a couple of girls on riverside. More fumbling than anything else." Vander shrugs. "But I haven't done… exactly this."

Silco fetches a small glass bottle from his jacket pocket. It's orange in a tall pyramid shape. "Babette suggested oil."

"You talked to Babette about this?"

Silco folds his arms across His scrawny chest. "She seemed the most reliable source of information."

Vander wants to tease him but Silco might take it personally and call the whole thing off. "Okay. Did she suggest anything else?"

"That it might be easier to relax lying on my stomach. Remember to use the oil. That the first time was bound to be uncomfortable," Silco admits, watching the bottle in his hand rather than meeting Vander's eyes, "but it would feel good by the end."

Silco presses a perfunctory kiss to Vander's mouth and pushes the bottle into his hands. Then he walks over to the bed, pulls back the blankets and then lies face down. He pulls a pillow under his cheek, and then sides his knees apart. "Are you going to stand there watching?"

"It's a very pretty sight," Vander says earnestly and Silco snorts. Vander isn't any kind of artist, he couldn't explain it if he tried. But there is something breathtaking about The warm lantern light on Silco's white skin, the shadows caused by the curve of his spine. It's something about the vulnerable backs of his knees, the long stretch of thigh, the curve of his ass. Silco likes to sleep with his hair pulled into a messy bun, but there are dark strands escaping, curling around the nape of his neck.

"You really are beautiful," Vanser says, crawling onto the bed and kneeling between Silco's legs.

Silco glares over his shoulder. "Hurry up, Vander."

The stopper is a little tricky to get free. It takes Vander an extra moment to work it out of the bottle and he has to ignore Silco's very judgemental, "Do you need assistance?"

It doesn't smell like engine oil, like diesel and machinery. It's thin and pale, and barely has a smell at all. Out of curiosity, Vander licks his finger but it doesn't taste like much either. Silco is still watching him over his shoulder, but at least he doesn't say anything.

Vander slicks up his cock first, a stroke or two to take the edge off, and then he smoothes the oil over Silco's hole, feeling it tense and relax under his fingers. He pushes two fingers inside to spread the oil, Surprised at the resistance, and Silco hisses into the pillow.

"Okay?" Vander asks, and Silco makes a muffled uh-huh noise, face still pressed into the pillow. Vander adds some more oil, hypnotised by Silco's hole stretched around his fingers. He pushes deeper and his knuckles disappear inside Silco.

Silco gasps, shoulder blades tensing as he holds tight to the pillow. Vander pushes in deeper, and he feels Silco clench around him, how hot and smooth Silco feels around his fingers.

Vander pulls his fingers out and lines up his cock. Silco is hot and smooth around him and tight. So tight. It's like fucking into a vise. "Relax, will you?"

"I'm trying," Silco snarls back at him. "Give me a minute."

Vander tries to stay still, to stop his hips from hitching forward. He presses his palms against the mattress, to either side of Silco's waist and tries to think of anything but how hot and tight Silco is around him. How he can feel Silco clench around him and then relax. How desperately he wants to bury his cock in deep.

"Silco," and it's a whine because Vander's going out of his mind. "Can I–"

"Yes," Silco says and Vander thrusts the rest of the way in. He takes a breath, tries to give Silco a moment to adjust and then he has his hands on Silco's hips, holding him steady as Vander pulls back.

He thrusts back in, fireworks skating up his spine and Silco's moan ringing in his ears. When he pulls back, Silco whines into the pillow. It's obscenely loud, the slap of skin against skin, the grunts that Vander can't stop making, the gasping whines ripped out of Silco. It drives Vander on, makes him thrust harder and hold on tighter, fingers digging into Silco's hips.

It catches him by surprise how close he is, has Vander scrambling to reach under Silco and get a hand around his cock, to jerk him off as Vander chases ecstasy with every thrust. He's desperate and clumsy but Silco is sobbing for breath, dragging in deep, wet gasps.

Then Silco freezes, clenching beneath him and around him. He comes with one last, low groan and Vander's only a few thrusts behind him. He comes deep inside Silco and then collapses onto his elbows, breathing open mouthed against Silco's back.

He can feel Silco's shuddering breaths. Can feel Silco's shoulders hitching as he forces his breathing under control again.

Vander pulls out and rolls off him, and Silco is out of bed, straight over to the flask of water and rag they use for cleaning up. He keeps his back to Vander as he washes his face first. He wipes himself down, front and back, but the whole time he's silent and keeps his back to Vander.

Silco dislikes going to sleep dirty – for any reason – but he usually has no modesty when washing and spends the time complaining that they don't have hot water.

"You okay?" Vander asks, sitting up. He stays in bed because he knows Silco doesn't react well to being cornered.

"Fine," Silco says quietly, facing the wall. He wipes down his chest again, and then fiddles with the rag, wringing it out and then laying it over the flask. "It's fine."

Silco turns the lantern down to a low glow and then comes back to bed.

Vander frowns, worried he might have got carried away. He's usually careful around people, has always had to be, but he forget around Silco. Silco would laugh at him for holding himself back and it's easy to forget the reasons Vander should. "You'd tell me if I hurt you, right?"

"It's not that," Silco says quickly, which proves it is something.

"Did you not like it?" That doesn't feel true, not with the noises Silco was making, but he's to ask.

"It's not–" Silco gives a frustrated sigh. "It was fine. It was good, it just…"

Vander rolls to his side, curves a arm around Silco's waist. He can make out Silco's familiar profile in the almost dark. "Tell me."

"I don't like the way it made me feel. Flayed open. Overwhelmed." In the dark, Silco takes a deep breath. "I don't want to do that again."

"Okay."

"Don't placate me! This was something that you wanted and now I'm saying no. You should at least be honest with me if–"

Shutting Silco up with a kiss feels like a good solution, especially when he kisses back. "I want you. However I get to have you."

"You mean, you like me on my knees sucking you off," Silco clarifies, confident enough to tease.

"I really do."

***

[that-basic-simp]

New Year's Kiss

Lara Croft x Fem! Reader CW: N/A WC: 1.5k+ A/N: Happy New Year, everyone!

"You never kissed anyone on New Year's?" my friend asked.

"Nope."

"Wow," she sipped her drink. "That must suck."

"Don't rub it in," I sighed and smacked her shoulder.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're 1: a hopeless romantic and 2: scared to talk to women you're attracted to."

"Talking to people in general is scary. Why do you think I stay home Friday and Saturday evenings?"

"I thought it was work related."

"It mostly is, but it is because I don't like going out to party. I am not a party person."

"Then why are you out here now?"

"Because," I eyed the bartender.

It was none other than renowned archeologist herself: Lara fucking Croft. I had no idea she even worked here. It wasn't until I recently came here with a few friends about six months ago when I noticed her. It seems a lot of other people noticed her, too, as they were trying to get her attention. She just smiled at them and made friendly conversation. But I noticed her stealing glances at me.

"Go talk to her," my friend said.

"Are you kidding me? T-There's nothing special about me."

My friend smirked and my face dropped.

"Stop. No."

"Excuse me," she flagged down Lara.

Lara came over and smiled at the two of us. I turned my head and hid behind my hand slightly.

"My friend has never drank anything before. What do you recommend?"

"Well, what is it that you like to drink?"

"S-Something fruity," I murmured.

"We've got plenty of those. Are you a light weight or do you think you can handle your liquor?" Lara asked.

"I-I don't know. I don't really drink."

"Let me get you something that isn't too much on the alcohol. Are you allergic to anything?"

"No," I said.

"Alright. I'll be right back with that drink. What's your name?"

"Y-Y/N."

"Lara," she said and extended out her hand. "But you probably knew."

"I-I didn't," I said and shook her hand.

"That's a first. Give me five minutes and I'll be right back."

"See, I wasn't going to do anything embarrassing," my friend said.

"I thought you were."

"I may want to see you happy, but I don't want to embarrass you in front of someone. Especially if we're out in public."

"Thank you."

A few minutes later, Lara came back with a drink that was blue and it had that edible glitter in it. So when it swirled around in the glass, it looked like I was drinking the night sky.

"This is amazing," I said. "What do you call it?"

"Starlight," Lara said.

"I don't see it on the menu," I examined the chalkboard.

"Because I just made it."

"From scratch?"

"Yeah."

My heart beat harder and faster in my chest. If I didn't already have a small crush on Lara, I do now. Maybe it was much bigger than the first time I saw her working here.

"H-How late are you working tonight?" I asked.

"The entire evening. It's going to get rowdy as the night goes on."

"Right, New Year's."

"Yep. Thankfully, they're paying me double tonight."

"As they should," I said as I drank more of the drink.

The alcohol was warming up my entire body and made me feel a bit comfortable, looser.

"What else do you do, Lara?" I asked.

"I'm an archeologist," she said.

"And you work here?"

"Sometimes being an archeologist doesn't bring in the money. Unless I sell it to a museum or something of the sorts. So this is another way to bring in money to pay the bills and to keep food on the table."

"Your name sounds familiar," I said.

"I'm surprised you didn't recognize me," she chuckled. "Most people do. Actually, everyone does. That's why there's so many people here alone just for me."

"I think they're just trying to get with you so that they can be famous. So that they can brag to everyone that they were with thee Lara Croft," I said.

The alcohol really got to my head now. Damn, I was a light weight.

"So you do know me?" she asked, her smile turned into a disappointed one.

"Y-Yeah," I sighed.

She sighed and shook her head, "I thought you were different."

"I-I'm sorry, Lara," I said. "I-It's just that, it's not hard to recognize you. It's not hard to know who you are, but I didn't come here because of that."

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"Do you remember me? The first time I came in here?"

"I do. I try to remember most of the clientele here."

"And how long ago was that?"

"Over the summer."

"And have you seen me since?"

"No. But that doesn't mean anything."

"It does, because I knew who you were the first time I came in here. I had no idea you worked here, I came here with some friends. They didn't even tell me you worked here. I figured it out on my own. And since that discovery, I haven't been back here until now."

"You could have been busy."

"I was busy, but I also don't go out and party. I like to stay home and do my own thing. But even if I did go out, I wouldn't come here. I'd go somewhere else. And if I did come here, it wasn't for the intent of seeing you."

I widened my eyes slightly as that last part came out a bit harsher than it should have. My friend almost choked on her drink as I said that.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like an ass."

"I get your drift," Lara said and walked off.

"Fuck," I swore under my breath and chugged the rest of the drink.

I got some other drinks throughout the night until my head was spinning and I couldn't get up without wanting to throw up. My friend was sitting beside me while all of this was happening. I was never one to drink because of the reaction I get from it. I was a sad drunk when I was in my thoughts and tonight was no better. Tears slid down my face as I silently cried at the bar. Lara would occasionally come by and make small talk with my friend, but I think she avoided me after seeing the sorry state I was in. It took me a long time to sober up. And when I did, Lara was there to greet me with some water.

"Here," she said softly.

"Thanks," I wiped my eyes and sipped the water.

"Drinking isn't your strong suit?"

"It never was," I sighed. "I have a history with alcoholism."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm sorry about what I said to you. I-I didn't mean it like that."

"It's alright. You're actually the first person who has ever been real to me. They're not trying to get with me because of who I am. Even though you knew who I was, you coming here had no correlation with me."

I nodded my head, "Yeah."

Up until it was an hour before midnight, Lara and I kept talking to one another. She'd leave here and there to take care of customers, but after that hiccup of a first impression, she seemed to enjoy my presence. I enjoyed hers.

"Do you usually celebrate New Year's?" I asked Lara.

"Not really. I haven't really done much with this holiday. I don't really have anyone to spend it with."

"How so?"

"My friends have someone they love and care for, my parents are no longer around, and so I usually find myself alone on New Year's."

"Yeah," I whispered. "I get that."

"You celebrate alone?"

"Up until this year I celebrated alone. My parents aren't really on speaking terms and I don't want anything to do with them. My friends have always invited me out, but you know about that," I chuckled.

"What made you want to come out tonight?"

"To see if she could get drunk enough to kiss someone," my friend said. Now the roles were reversed. She was drunk and I was sober.

"Is that true?" Lara chuckled.

"Yes and no," I admitted. "I never had a New Year's kiss. But I don't really intend to if I am not dating someone or in a committed relationship."

"I totally get that, but," Lara's face flushed slightly.

"But what?"

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!" the crowd in the bar cheered.

People who were dating kissed one another, friends hugged each other. Everyone was enjoying themselves, alone or with someone romantic or platonic. It warmed my heart to see everyone so happy. Maybe I didn't need someone special to celebrate New Year's. Those thoughts were interrupted when Lara reached over and grabbed my jaw. She turned my head to face hers and pressed her lips to mine. My eyes widened in shock. She pulled away and her face immediately turned red.

"I-I am so sorry."

I turned my body around to face the bar and reached out to place my hands on her cheeks. I pulled her in for another kiss that lasted a bit longer than the first one. Once I pulled away, both of us were as red as can be.

"C-Can I call you sometime?"

"Of course," she said and handed over a napkin with her phone number written on it. "You'll know where I'll be."

She winked at me before she disappeared behind the bar.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Action

So, this is a interesting one to talk about. Not only is this the first episode in all five seasons to not be written or directed by Thomas Astruc in any capacity (though the other three writers on his team, Melanie Duval, Fred Lenoir, and Sebastien Thibaudeau still wrote this one), not only is it not connected to the ongoing plotlines of Season 5 in any way, but this episode was made with the help of the Breteau Foundation.

For those who don't know, the Breteau Foundation is an organization that works together with schools by giving children access to technology for their lessons, helping them with their psychological needs, and teaching them about ways to protect our environment. This episode was even made available on the Breteau Foundation's website for free in addition to educational materials meant to teach kids about recycling.

Yeah, when we were kids, we got excited whenever the teacher played an old episode of The Magic School Bus or Bill Nye the Science Guy in class, but nowadays, TV shows are producing episodes of their shows specifically so they can be shown in class. And I'm not talking about those half-assed science lab worksheets with pictures of SpongeBob on them either.

The point I'm trying to make is that there was clearly a lot put into this episode, and it's all for a good cause to help teach children about how to protect the environment in order to ensure a better future... and of course, I'm still going to make jokes about it, because I'm just some schmuck on the internet who isn't backed by a major educational foundation.

Let's get into the 27th episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fifth season: Action

We start off with Marinette and Adrien heading over to the Liberty so they could be told about the pollution in the Seine River by their class' resident environmental activist, Myl—Nino, I mean, Nino. No joke, Nino gets more lines in this episode than Mylene does, even though ever since Season 2, Mylene has been established as the one to protest polluting the environment. I get that she already had a lot of screentime in an earlier environmental episode (Mega Leech), but why would you have Nino be the one to help spearhead this protest instead of Mylene? Hell, the plot of another episode started from him trying to get him and his friends out of helping Mylene plant trees for the environment (Party Crasher), so this makes even less sense.

I should also get this out of the way by pointing out a few continuity errors in the episode. For one thing, Marinette is stuttering around Adrien when she had mostly gotten over that issue after “Derision”, Kagami is now one of the avatars for the Alliance rings, something that had been established in “Revelation”, and the episode mentions that the Alliance rings are made of plastic when the season finale shows that they're actually made of metal. I don't want to harp on this too much, as this episode obviously wasn't meant to really tie into the main plotline so it would be easier for kids who aren't familiar with the show watching this episode, seeing how this was meant to be viewed as a standalone story. Besides, compared to other plotholes in the show like the ones I'll cover next time, these are fairly minor.

Nino tells Marinette and Adrien, and by extension, the audience, that the Seine River is full of pollution, and the Liberty has recently been converted into a makeshift water treatment plant. The problem is that with a recent increase of plastic in the Seine, it's becoming harder for the Liberty to filter out all of it. Hey, here's an idea: Maybe don't set up your homemade water treatment plant in the longest river in Paris.

The reason for all the new plastic comes from a recent ad campaign promoting some vending machines that sell these paper fans that were designed by Gabriel and are sold by a man named Bertrand King, who looks like a cross between Willy Wonka and Colonel Sanders, down to having a southern accent in the English dub.

Nino suggests that Adrien talk to Gabriel himself, but as usual, Adrien doesn't think he'll listen, so the kids decide to go to Bertrand King's company while picking up an order for plastic containers for the Dupain-Chang bakery... even though I'm pretty sure most bakeries store pastries in paper instead of just plastic.

Nino has the others dress up in disguises, but like most of his plans this season, it fails miserably, so Marinette comes up with a little story about Adrien meeting up with Bertrand. The kids make an impassioned presentation to Bertrand, asking him to help change the way he operated his business like making his fans out of more biodegradable materials. Surprisingly, the man whose entire livelihood revolves around selling plastic doesn't want to listen to the people saying everything his company is doing is wrong.

Bertrand: This is all intentional. It's the wonderful cycle of throwing away and buying again that makes my fortune. If people didn't throw away and buy new items again then I, Bertrand King, would no longer be the King of Plastic! So, there is no way any of this is changing.

Wow, a rich person in Miraculous Ladybug turning out to be a total jerk? What an unexpected turn of events.

Bertrand points out how much plastic is used in everyday society, using pens and the Alliance rings as an example, and seeing how we cut to the next scene afterwards, we can assume he had them thrown out. Oh, come on, you couldn't even parody The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air like you did during “Migration”? The kids then try to go to Andre and Gabriel for help protesting the fans, but because one's a corrupt politician and another helped make them, they won't do a thing. Marinette tries to ask Nadja, the local news anchor, but because the ad revenue from Bertrand's company funds the channel she works for, she can't do a thing or else she'll be out of a job.

This leads to the kids deciding to do the sane thing and HACK THE NEWS BROADCAST SO THEY CAN MAKE A SPEECH ABOUT POLLUTION.

Because it's not like Marinette and the others could have just gone to another news network with this story or uploaded it to the internet instead, right? And sure, scowl at the camera while you're giving this presentation too. That won't make you look like a bunch of eco-terrorists at all. The kids give a presentation about how dangerous plastic is, and how people can use fans made of more biodegradable materials like bamboo instead. Also, we get cameos from Jess, Aeon, and Fei, but they're pretty much there just to remind viewers that the New York and Shanghai specials happened.

Of course, the episode's following RWBY Volume 8 logic, so rather than view them as a bunch of lunatics who hijacked a news broadcast, the public immediately turns on Bertrand's company, arguably faster than what happened with Andre in “Mega Leech”. Speaking of, Andre and Gabriel change their opinions to make themselves look like they were always against Bertrand, and seeing how this episode aired after Season 5 ended, didn't really sit too well with viewers.

Bertrand calls out Gabriel for lying, but Gabriel doesn't care, secretly using this as an opportunity to akumatize Bertrand into King of Plastic through his pen.

King of Plastic has a pretty underwhelming design. It's clear that the intent was to make him look like plastic, and there is a noticeable reflection on his body, but other than that, it doesn't really fit the anti-plastic moral. I think maybe if they did more to make his movements seem more stiff like a living doll, or at least make him look less like he's made of candy, it could work more. The Miraculous power this time is the Bee Miraculous' Venom, which he can use through one side of his lance to stun any victims so he can use the other side to turn them into plastic statues. It's sort of like the dollmaker episode of Arrow, only we don't get to hear the sound of anyone's esophagus hardening.

King of Plastic makes short work of Andre and the local police squad, and Adrien is forced to put teaching Marinette Mandarin on hold so he can transform into Cat Noir, while Marinette transforms into Ladybug as soon as she's alone. After he transforms Adrien's bodyguard into a plastic statue, King of Plastic fights Ladybug and Cat Noir, eventually transforming Cat Noir's staff into plastic too. Even though he was originally akumatized to get revenge on Gabriel, King of Plastic leaves the Agreste Manor and heads to the Liberty to get revenge on Marinette and Adrien's friends instead... for some reason. Even the episode points out how weird this is.

Cat Noir: Didn't you want to take revenge on Gabriel Agreste?

Ladybug: He probably has more than one enemy.

After following King of Plastic there with Cat Noir, Ladybug summons her Lucky Charm, getting a plastic bag. Because it's already made of plastic, it can't be transformed, which gives Ladybug an idea. She tells Alya to activate the Liberty's water treatment function, intentionally overloading it before Cat Noir Cataclysms the engine. This jettisons the collected plastic and overfills the deck of the Liberty, trapping King of Plastic so Ladybug can break his lance. So in an episode meant to teach kids about how dangerous plastic is, the day was ultimately saved by plastic. I'm sure that won't confuse any kids watching this in class.

Ladybug de-evilizes the Akuma, tells Bertrand about how dangerous plastic is, and he immediately vows to change his company's ways before Ladybug gives him a Magical Charm as useless as a plastic toy before she uses Miraculous Ladybug to fix the damage.

The episode ends with Bertrand funding the repair of the Liberty before vowing to change the way his company operates, as do Tom and Sabine, who now sell their products in eco-friendly containers. Unfortunately, with all the renovations being made to his company that come with moving away from plastic, Bertrand had to stop funding this groundbreaking cancer research institution in America in order to prevent his company from going bankrupt.

Anyway, this episode was pretty good. I honestly didn't have a lot of problems here. The plot was pretty straightforward, the themes of how easy it is to perpetuate companies that damage the environment were handled pretty well, and the main characters were pretty active.

Even the greedy corporate asshole meant to be a stand-in for real life executives was handled pretty well, having some quirks that make him stand out while showing how ignorant he is to the situation without making him completely insufferable. This episode could have easily gone the Captain Planet route with Bertrand, but they showed he wasn't intentionally endangering the environment because he felt like it, but rather, because he cared more about his company making money, even showing him ultimately realizing the error of his ways.

If there's one problem I had, it's with the way the Akuma fight was resolved. I get that any other Lucky Charm wouldn't have been immune to King of Plastic's plastic powers, but I feel like weaponizing the plastic the heroes spent most of the episode fighting against in order to stop the Akuma sort of muddles the message the episode is going for. It's not the worst way to resolve an Akuma fight, but it just bugs me personally.

While I still think “Mega Leech” did a better job with the environmental message, overall, this episode did a pretty good job teaching the moral it set out to teach.

THE BIGGEST IDIOT OF THE EPISODE IS... ANDRE (THE OTHER ONE)

Shockingly, nobody really acted that stupid this episode. Yeah, the kids were pretty naive thinking they could make Bertrand change his company's way of production, but still took action when that didn't work. Andre, on the other hand...

While Gabriel and Nadja had their own reasons to support Bertrand (Gabriel for Monarch reasons and Nadja for financial reasons), the only reason Andre went along with the fans polluting the environment was because they happened to have his image as one of the designs, and when the public started to turn on Bertrand, Andre acted like he always opposed him, and when confronted with an akumatized Bertrand, begged for his life like a coward and said he would reinstall the fan vending machines. While I guess it's better than having Chloe be the primary supporter of Bertrand's company, I need to reiterate that this aired after the last few episodes of Season 5 tried to place Andre in a more sympathetic light.

[sleepnoises]

hi! apologies if you've been asked this before, but do you have any advice for first time online store owners? i'm thinking about opening one to sell sculptures of my own but i've got no idea where to start, and was wondering if you had any tips to share.

anyways, i love your charming little clay fellows and i hope you have an excellent new year 🤎

i may have been asked it but i can always answer again! tagging this with "clay ask" so you can review past answers

tips:

it's fine to start small and go slow and not optimize everything right away. sculptures are a luxury good and they will usually not immediately start flying off the shelves.

that said: it's nice to track what time you're spending on what. just block it out on google calendar after you're done so you can tot it up at a later time. this tip is super hypocritical but i've done it in the past

i use and like big cartel for my storefront. it doesn't have the fees of etsy or the will sell your stuff twice if people buy it really fast of storenvy. it also doesn't have the discoverability of either, so you'll have to try harder on other social media, but it's a worthwhile tradeoff for me. i don't know anything about shopify and i won't learn

i like pirate ship for shipping labels; it talks directly to big cartel (and a lot of other storefronts!), gets good rates, lets you preview hypothetical packages to check shipping costs, and lets you save package presets. i have a shipping label printer but you should be fine with a regular printer + packing tape.

try to make some reliable size classes of sculpture so you can use a few package settings and not recalculate shipping every time

i try not to buy shipping material from uline because they love trump soooooo soo much. if you have anything local, that's generally a smart call for last minute supply runs, especially because shipping on boxes is spendy. i like upaknship.com for jazzy bubble mailers. i haven't researched their politics but at least they aren't uline

do not put anything particularly delicate in a bubble mailer. i assume you can guess this but a friend once mailed me a plant pot in like. a plastic bag with some shredded paper. so i don't trust what people know about distribution of force in packaging.

you want pressure to be pretty evenly distributed. you don't want anything to be able to twist or bend or snap or rub against itself. you want your packed mailers and boxes to not make any noise when you shake them or to "clunk!" when you drop them on a table from a foot or two up. if you're worried about dropping them that far you have not packed them right.

people will often give you packaging materials if you say you're collecting them

it's nice to have a tape gun... i inherited mine from a childhood neighbor who was a wonderful lesbian

take very careful notes on expenses and income. expect about 25% of $ that comes in to go to taxes (i'm in CA, this might vary)

have a cute logo :) just for fun

these are my THOUGHTS. enjoy!!

[justapoet]

a key on the chain (take it with you and run)

“Annabeth Chase,” the man repeated, as if it meant something more than just a random name. “Isn’t that why you chose this house?” “Why, on Earth, would I pick a house based on whether or not this Annabeth Chase was my neighbour?” Percy asked. “To catch the cat!” the man explained, and Percy sincerely laughed. “What cat?” Percy asked, now wondering if he had drunk something that tasted bad or a bit out of the ordinary. He must have been sleeping, having those weird dreams some people claim have meanings but, in the end, were just a bunch of thoughts squeezed together in a juice jar. “The one with the key." OR, Percy wants a new beginning back where he came from. He moves to New Rome, a quaint neighbourhood in New York, where every single man seems to make a life out of chasing a yellow cat with a key around its neck. Whoever catches it, apparently, won't be denied the prize they all seek: Annabeth Chase's — the most beautiful woman around — hand in marriage. Percy doesn't get it, and much less wants to engage with such activities or with the mysterious woman. But it's a bit harder when she lives just next doors, and the yellow cat becomes a faithful companion of his.

Read it on Ao3

It was ironic, honestly, that he was standing at the door of his new house in New Rome, a quaint neighborhood in New York, New York, after he had decided to sell his house and get the hell out of the simple neighborhood he lived in Rome, Italy, for so many years. Ironic, to say the least, because Percy hadn’t even registered how the place was called before he had set foot back in the United States, his life all packed up in a bunch of luggage and Ms. O’Leary, his loyal companion, by his side.

And he should have registered it, probably, because it would be a responsible thing to do. But in the hurry he found himself in, and the crisis that was the catalyst for the sudden, brutal change of life and routine and choices, Percy didn’t think of much before buying the house and getting on a plane to sign the papers and get his keys.

Now, there he stood — in front of a small, dainty house, with brick walls and a wooden front double door and a large windowsill that gave it all a sweet, home-like air. It was the perfect definition of cozy, the front lawn mowed, and some flower bushes making it look even more graceful than he had first thought it’d be. The place seemed to come from a picture, those beautiful illustrations on books about fairies and magic and hope, and Percy wondered it that would be enough to settle his unsteady heart and calm his troubled mind.

Because the place was beautiful, and yet he couldn’t see or feel the hope of new beginnings that so many people had told him it would bring; he was standing in front of what now was his house, the boxes and furniture already inside for him to organize and distribute as he would like, and Percy could only feel tired. Not from his travels, not from having to put everything to a place — but he was tired, overall, and the weight of his choices and the paths he’d walked seemed to rest over his shoulder.

He was back in New York, and there was nothing really there for him. Not anymore, because he had decided to travel the world so many years before and, at some point, he had stopped keeping in touch with everyone he left behind. His mother, father, stepfather, stepmother, half-siblings and friends — he hadn’t talked to them in years. Long, long years that seemed to now taint his past and shadow his face and cloud his memories of what it was like to be with them, to be there.

And maybe being back should be inspiring. Perhaps being again in north American territory should give him the hopes and the energy to reach out and try to find them as soon as possible; but all he felt was dread. Dread, and dreadful fear that he had lost that part of his life — the one that made him who he was — forever, and because of his terrible choices and the terrible feelings that had settled in his chest so long before.

He was staring at his house, and Percy wondered how long it could take for him to feel at home.

Because it once was home to be in New York, and he had forgotten how it felt. It once was home to never belong anywhere, traveling around and meeting new people and meeting new cultures and faces and languages, until the moment there was nothing but emptiness and the everlasting feeling of missing someone, something, somewhere.

His family, and everything they meant. He feared their anger, despite knowing that was what he deserved, after all. After so long, after so much pain he was sure he had caused them through the years he never even gave a sign of life.

New beginnings should be scary, yes, and ultimately exciting.

Percy was simply terrified.

Ms. O’Leary, on the other hand, seemed thrilled about having new places to discover. Her tail hadn’t stopped moving from the moment they got out of the taxi — who charged him an absurd amount of money upon seeing the dog, but that was quite alright at that point — and Percy had opened the gate that matched the fence circling the property. She had barked and set off to run around, and Percy couldn’t help but chuckle.

At least one of them was excited enough for both.

Percy sighed, taking the key to his front door so he could finally come in and see the mess he’d have to face and make more of soon enough until he could properly relax and rethink every single step of his life. Ms. O’Leary had already made her way to the backyard, somehow, and he could hear her barking at something — probably nothing at all —, chuckling a bit more at his best friend’s happiness on stretching her legs.

He shook his head, rolling his eyes fondly at the mental image of Ms. O’Leary simply running in circles around the area he was yet to see. Then, he looked up again at the doors, and inhaled deeply.

And his dramatic entrance to an empty house as a metaphor for his empty life was rudely interrupted before he could even fit the key in the door.

“So, you’re the lucky one?” someone spoke behind him, and Percy snapped his head in the voice’s direction, turning his body around as well, key still in hand. A man stood behind his fence, a heavy terracotta coat hanging from his shoulders, a suit underneath it and a black Panama hat tucked to his head a bit too much. His face wasn’t sympathetic, and instead he stared at Percy as if he was a bug the man desperately wanted to step on.

Weird. To say the very least.

“Uh— Hello?” Percy greeted, unsure of what to make of the situation. “I beg your pardon; ‘the lucky one’?” he frowned, and the man seemed to snap out of whatever it was that crossed his mind.

“My apologies. Welcome to New Rome,” the man spoke again, now taking a few steps to walk past the open gate and offer his hand in greeting. When he was close enough, Percy, still incredibly confused, shook the man’s hand.

“Percy Jackson,” he offered. “Thank you.”

For the welcome. Not for whatever it was that had happened before.

“Luke Castellan,” the man replied in earnest, his handshake firm before Percy let go of it. “First time in New York?” he asked, and Percy couldn’t quite pin down what it was that seemed so off about the sympathy in his tone.

“In a couple of years, yes,” Percy limited himself to say. Then, his curiosity got the best of him. “What did you say about me being ‘the lucky one’, may I ask?”

Luke’s smile seemed to tighten. Percy decided that it was best to be careful.

“The house,” Luke said. Percy frowned.

“Why? Is it better than the others?” he asked, looking back at the house behind him. When he looked at Luke again, the guy had an eyebrow raised.

“It’s beside Annabeth Chase’s house,” he spoke again, his tone implying that the fact was somehow obvious. Percy was sincerely beginning to think the conversation couldn’t possibly get weirder.

Rookie mistake.

“Who?” Percy could only ask, tilting his head to the side.

Luke frowned, then. Now, he seemed genuinely confused. Percy wanted to say that he had no right to — what, on Earth, was that man talking about?

“Annabeth Chase,” Luke repeated, as if it meant something more than just a random name.  “Isn’t that why you chose this house?”

Percy’s face was probably odd to look at, now that he was sure it was completely contorted with his bewilderment. His mouth was slight open and twisted, and he couldn’t narrow his eyes more before completely closing them.

“I chose the house my realtor offered me,” Percy said. “Why, on Earth, would I pick a house based on whether or not this Annabeth Chase was my neighbor?”

“To catch the cat!” Luke explained, and Percy sincerely laughed.

“What cat?” Percy asked, now wondering if he had drunk something that tasted bad or a bit out of the ordinary. He must have been sleeping, having those weird dreams some people claim have meanings but, in the end, were just a bunch of thoughts squeezed together in a juice jar.

“The one with the key,” Luke spoke again, and Percy could really wake up right then. He moved his arms and hands in exasperation, completely lost, and shook his head, eyes wide as he tried to understand what the man could possibly be talking about.

“Do you seriously not know?” Luke asked, and he seemed truly surprised. Percy would need an analgesic for the building headache on his temples.

Percy shook his head in disbelief yet again.

“Man, I just got back from another continent. I do not have the most single idea of who the hell Annabeth Chase is, what a cat and a key mean or how the house I now own has to do with it.”

Luke stared at Percy, who just stared right back as he tried to get his point across. After the better part of a minute, the brunette man seemed to have accepted that the newcomer really didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, and his gaze turned apologetic.

“Okay, then. I’m sorry, man,” Luke spoke, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. “It’s just an ongoing competition for Annabeth’s cat and their key.”

Percy frowned again.

“Competition?” he asked. Luke nodded.

“It’s a thing we have around here,” he began, and Percy tilted his head. “The house beside yours belongs to Annabeth Chase, the most beautiful woman in the neighborhood. Dare I say, and any other person, the most beautiful woman in New York,” he explained, and something in his tone, again, seemed to put Percy on edge. Luke looked at the house he was talking about, the glint in his eyes with something much more distorted than what someone might mistake for affection. “Every single young man in the neighborhood had offered her their hand in marriage, and desperately wanted to wed her,” he told him, and Percy visibly winced. Luke didn’t notice.

Marrying someone for looks? Asking for their hand in marriage because they look pretty?

The discontentment was clear over Percy’s face. He was definitely going insane.

“She refused one by one, and yet they came back to ask her again. Expensive gifts, poems, songs; they tried to convince her with everything, anything they could buy and hand her,” the man continued, and Percy felt a pang of sympathy for whoever the woman was. What a tragic thing, to be seen as one more object those men could be handed and pay for. “One day, though, Miss Chase grew tired of all men knocking on her door and proposing ridiculous things. So, she made a challenge — whoever caught her cat and the key on the cat’s neck, would not be denied her hand in marriage. Since then, there’s been a whole thing trying to catch the animal: cages, traps, the most unhinged plans seen. No one could ever catch it.”

A wave of satisfaction rolled in his ears, and Percy made his very best not to let it trespass to his expression. He sympathized with the woman, and somehow was intrigued by her presence and the plan she had made — it was odd how she knew that the cat wouldn’t be caught, and yet a high risk to take if she didn’t want any of those men by her side.

Something, Percy thought, that no one could possibly blame her for. One needs to be pathetically vain to try and win someone’s heart as a prize, and not ever think about treasuring it as it should happen. And agreeing to go after a cat instead of just, perhaps, asking this Annabeth out and trying their luck by being normal people? Percy didn’t think that he would like a single soul in the neighborhood.

“They stopped coming to her house,” Luke carried on, taking Percy back from his thoughts and judgements. “And, to this day, everyone tries to catch the yellow cat with a hanging key and earn her love,” he concluded, and looked at Percy again, who was trying his best not to roll his eyes in front of his new neighbor. Those men could be trying to earn anything, but not her love. “We were all curious, then, as for who had taken the house closest to hers.”

Percy blinked, shaking his head.

“I have nothing to do with chasing cats and hanging keys, man, I can tell you that much,” he said. “I just got the house.”

“We all see it,” he said.

“And I would much rather the accusation stopped, Mr. Castellan, for I have no intention to add ‘trapping a cat’ to my routine,” Percy spoke, a little more serious. “I have nothing to do with this odd contest of yours, and I intend to keep it that way,” he explained.

Luke seemed a bit convinced. And a bit too smug for Percy’s liking.

“You’re a first, then,” the man said, and Percy arched an eyebrow. Luke sighed. “My apologies for the accusations, Mr. Jackson. The subject just tends to get on our nerves.”

“I figured,” Percy said. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Castellan; I’ve had a long day.”

The man nodded.

“Of course. Have a good afternoon,” he complied to Percy’s farewell, touching his hat and then turning around to leave the property. Percy watched him go for a few seconds, and then decided that it was too much to process standing at his doorstep.

He was intrigued, to say the least, about the whole scenario he had just been presented to. A woman with whom he couldn’t help but sympathize, being chased and wanted like some sort of prize for someone’s ego and pride. A cat that seemed to outsmart a whole neighborhood — though, after the whole story, Percy couldn’t believe it was that hard to do it —, and a bunch of grown adults who didn’t have anything better to do but to watch every person’s moves and doubt their smallest intentions.

Amazing. And he thought he’d find some peace by being back at his childhood town.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[laphixsoka]

Birthday boy.

Eren x fem reader

(Girl I was rushing to publish this so some parts aren’t proof read.)

CW: Smut, weed , drinking

Being “easy.” Wasn’t something you’d been known for. You’d never really entertained to many guys except for Riner, but after he did you foul you’d been harder to get with. Hell to even invite to anything cause you’d just decline.

So it came to everyone’s surprise when you’d accepted his invite. He didn’t even really treat it like a big deal either he kept the new nonchalant demeanor he’d recently gained.

“You don’t even need to give me a birthday present, just show up ” He joked as he chewed his gum.

“Imma have to do a rain check.” You joked. Then said your goodbyes heading across the campus for your next class.

———

You were in line at the rented out club. It was cold as shit and you regretted your outfit choices. Should of came in some sweats to damn cold for this skimpy dress! You stood holding your arms together till you felt a familiar pair of hands.

It was Jean and behind him was Marco, Marco had a whole ass stress ball squeezing it. You could tell Jean dressed him with the creams and browns.

“Look who’s paying for the consequences of being fast.” Jean said slapping his coat on you, you were about to die from the whole cologne store he had on the bitch.

“You can have the shit back.” You started to see why Marco was about to break the damn stress ball. He needed about 60 dealing with Jean alone. Jean took his coat and settled on line with you. Some people in the back started to complain.

“Where the fuck is Sasha and Connie?” Jean was scrolling through his messages.

“They said they were pregaming and eating a wing stop.” You said putting your hand out for Marco’s stress ball. He gave up on half and you two squished it together.

Jean closed his phone and put it in his pockets and all three of you started to chat.

“Eren is not this goddamn popular.” Jean messing with Marco’s earing.

“You saw how Mikasa was handing out them flyers and Zeke know half of the colleges in the state.” Marco said squeezing some more.

“That’s right the Yeager’s are overachievers.” You said said nodding you head at Marco.

“The fuck Eren overachieving at selling weed with Floch?!” You and Marco laughed as you let go of the ball and rubbed your hands on your short silk dress. To keep them warm.

“Hey y’all!!” Sasha shouted and she dragged Connie to the front of the line were you all were. She then stopped and looked at you. She knew what you were doing. “You trying to get a peice of that birthday boy!” Sasha said and the rest besides Marco started to tease.

“She ain’t gonna get nothing with guard dog ass Mikasa.” Connie said before blowing in his hands. You just rolled your eyes while they all laughed you know Jean didn’t though.

——-

Once you all got to the front they bouncer looked at the list for the names.

“Okay you guys can-.” Before he could finish all y’all was in the door immediately feeling the heat. The music was bumping through your chest, and the lights thrashed all over the main room. “Jean you trying to dance.” You asked. “Where’s Marco-.” You two looked and saw him finding a rotation to join.

“You done stressed his ass out that bad.” You said as y’all headed to the bar to get drinks. Jean decided to ignore the comment and order for the both of you.

“Got us drinking heavy ass brown we just got here!” You put up a fuss but still down the cup faster than Jean. You ain’t really party but you said you don’t be drinking?

“Let’s get our ass on that floor the suit light up!” Jean shouted and you were right behind him.

You you twerked all over Jean and he caught every your threw. It was just code as friends he loosely held your waist and you whined on him. You could hear him hyping you up and you’d laugh out from the fun of it.

But you could see Eren from a little gap in the crowd. Girls had been throwing themselves on him and the party just got started. You’d like a good chase why not entertain yourself a bit.

“Jean let’s go to the front Mikasa up there.” You didn’t want to wait for his answer so you pulled him along. The bass could be felt through all your bones, you let the brown and lust kick in for a few minutes. You knew Jean’s answer as soon as you two started dancing. Y’all wanted and y’all are going to get.

The playfulness between you two, you’d miss his hype ups cause you’d be staring into Eren’s soul. He’d looked back he grabbed some girl and had her dancing with him so he could one up. You could tell he was bored she’d have the same two little wags. The same thing would go on for thirty minutes, and you and Jean left the floor for some water and more alcohol even a little weed.

After a while Jean ran after Mikasa he’d saw her head up the stairs, which left you alone at the bar. You drank and looked at your phone. Till you saw Eren pull a chair up next to you. “Thought you was only gonna dance with me.” He said leaned into your ear. You rolled your eyes at him and put your hand on his lap as you went next to his ear to talk to him.

“You’d have to work for that I don’t dance with anybody, you might not even be able to keep up.” You said letting your hand linger a bit on his lap before pulling away.

“Don’t worry about me keeping up just throw I’ll catch.” He said his voice was sending tingles through your body. You started to wonder what was so special about him that you wanted him. Staring at him as he ordered a drink the soft light highlighting his features, and the way his Adam’s apple would Bob as he spoke. You started to even count the wispy hairs on his head. You watch as his ring infested hand took the glass from the bar tender. You even caught a glance of some tattoos from his rolled up sleeves riding up. You bent forward to talk and he put his hand at the hem of your dress to keep it from riding up.

“What made you invite me to the party?” You asked he let go of your dress and went to speak.

“I just seen you in the hallway a few times and those small conversations we had made me want to invite you…Maybe talk to you bit more.”

You were about to lean in but one of his friends came up. “Birthday boy we need to start that birthday blunt.” Floch said eren got up and pulled your arm. You got down with the help of him and you three headed up to the lounge. You saw Marco up there in the rotation messing with a dude. You weren’t about to say shit cause you were about to do the same.

You came down to the fact they you haven’t had none and ms. Toy from target wasn’t cutting it. You can’t get to emotionally attached anyways.

They sat down and everywhere was filled up. “C’mere you can sit with me.” He patted his land on his lap three times and went to rolling. You went over and sat on his lap. You watched his tongue as he licked the wrapper sealing it off. He handed it to Floch to light it up and rested his hand on your waist. His fingers rubbed the silk on your dress together as everyone sung him happy birthday, till Floch passed him the first hit.

He eyed you almost like he was beckoning you and you went closer once he passed the blunt over, and he shotgunned the smoke into your mouth. You didn’t let it last long just to tease him and he knew it cause he gripped your thigh while giving you the “I’m finna get you.” Look, and you could feel his hand getting higher and higher. He’d rub little circles on your skin.

————

After a few more hits y’all did the shotgun again and it was a full on make out, passing some to one another him gripping hard on your ass. He had to pass it while you were devouring his lips. Nobody cared cause everyone was getting some for real. Marco and the guy had got up and left to a different room. You and Eren would of been in the same predicament, but you two wanted to play games.

He was borderline fingering you and you’d be grinding against him. Y’all were in your little world till you came to your senses. “Ren I wanna dance.” You moaned into his ear cause he was still there rubbing. “You think I’ve worked hard enough?” He was eating you being whiny up.

“Yess let’s go dance.” Your voice was soft from being high as shit, he was basically the only thing holding you up. He didn’t answer you the second time he was talking to home more friends that came up. He’s went back to rubbing the silk on your dress together. You started to doze off but he softly bounced his leg, as they wrapped up their conversation. You felt your sensitive bud against that knee as it softly and quickly rubbed against it.

You’d never been this down bad, to were a dude knee had you in a chokehold. Something that was intended to keep you up, had turned into something completely different.

You heard them about to wrap up and Eren patted your hip. “Let’s get up and dance.” He said watching you closely as you got up.

———————-

The floor was at its most packed at this moment, which was good cause what y’all had going on needed to be covered up. Your ass rubbing ass over the center of his pants. His hands letting your dress ride all the way up, as he watched your ass bounce all over him. You made your way back up and you two were just leaving no type of room for anything. His hand traveling all under your dress, as you danced you felt his lips press against your ears.

He started to speak about all the things he’d do to you. You kept dancing grinding and dancing, he kept up caressing every inch of your body. You couldn’t take it anymore, you could feel how wet you’ve gotten over the course of the night.

Lust took over all your senses.

His hair, his rings, his tattoos, his opening on his shirts, the way his voice rattled you, and how nonchalant he was about everything. God he was driving you fucking nuts.

“Eren I need you now.” You said in his ear you pulled away and dragged him upstairs.

As you entered one of the private rooms, they had they had their own music. Soft lights adorned the room he sat down on the booth that was infront of a small poll. You weren’t going to touch something that you had no idea how to use. So you went to straddling him he instantly went to both hands on your ass. You hands cupped his face as you two kissed, it was deep and hungry. You grinded against his lap as you felt him practically knead your ass.

You could feel him getting hard and you gently got his hands off your ass. And you went down between his legs. You undid his pants and he poked out immediately. You began to lick at his base and you could see how his face changed. You could hear his groans as you worked your way up, the tip being the loudest. Then your started to put him in your mouth with your hand in the base. Bobbing your head as you moved your wrist in repeated motions at the bottom. You were making nothing but slurping noises and it was driving him crazy. Then you’d stick it all down Your throat and come back up, but he was so Into it he held your head down. You struggled to come up for air but it added to the effect. The heartbeat down there was getting stronger along with the heat.

When you got back up you looked up trying to catch your breath, Eren wiped your tears as you kept pumping and licking. You wanted him to cum as you watched his face change. You put your mouth over the tip, and let all of it come in your mouth you swallowed it all.

You eyes kept contact through that and he patted the seat. “Let me have my cake.” He told you as you got up on the booth seat. He pulled your panties off as soon as he got down there.He opened your legs with his hands and littered the inside of your thighs with kisses.

Once he had you comfortable with that he started to go in. He started to eat like he was starving. It had you moaning as you gripped his hair. It felt so good your toes curled and your eyes shut. It was so much intense stimulation, cause you never had been ate out before.

It felt like heaven, you could even tell Eren a proper thing. Everything would be broken up as you moaned and your words were clumped. You couldn’t think properly not with him. As he began to start to glide and flick and do some more tricks.

You’d cum.

————

You both were on the bed they’d had lube in the room and Eren had fingered you. Like him eating you out like a hungry man wasn’t enough. His fingers had you clutching onto pillows, as he rubbed and pumped his way to your spot. He hit it so good you saw stars early on.

Once you two got deep into it, you cling to his back as he was ontop of you. He looked into your eyes and you watched him as his face would change. His little wispy hairs had flown forward, the green eyes started to see more and more Intimate. He was pumping you so deep you thought it wouldn’t come out your mouth. The only thing you could say was his name, and a weak please as cream coated his dick with each pump.

Your nails grip on his back got harder as you both got closer. You squirted as you came from him continuing to pump as he came inside of you.

—————-

“Did you like your birthday present?” You asked as you both cleaned up.

“My best one tonight.”

[tokuvivor]

could you write a story about Donald and Fenton?

Absolutely! Love both of them; intrigued by the idea of their dynamic.

And I will also get to that other story you requested; don’t worry.

I give you…

The Best Role Model

Originated from this post.

Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera was a lot of things. He was a hard worker. He was a good son. He was a scientist (at least, he was still trying to work his way up there). And more recently, he was working on being a good friend.

The friend in question here was Huey Duck, the oldest great-nephew of Scrooge McDuck, for whom Fenton was employed.

Now, it may have been a little odd for Fenton to find a friend that was so much younger than him. After all, Fenton was in his mid-20s, while Huey was only 11. But Fenton liked Huey. Huey reminded him a bit of himself when he was younger. Besides that, Fenton didn’t know if he (or, for that matter, Dr. Gearloose) would’ve been able to fully figure out Fenton’s Gizmosuit were it not for Huey’s keen eye and pointers, which helped the two older scientists realize that the key to controlling the suit was Fenton himself. Or rather, his mind.

So needless to say, Fenton had a great amount of appreciation and respect for Huey. They’d occasionally hang out on their own, and more recently, Huey started helping out at the lab. Fenton was amazed at how hard Huey worked. It’d started out with basic tasks, like mopping the floor or helping clean the glassware, but gradually, Huey’d been taking on bigger and bigger roles in the lab. He felt so proud, and so was Fenton.

On this particular day, Fenton had just gotten out of work. He was feeling a bit worn-down, so he decided to go to a nearby cafe and get something to drink and boost his spirits.

He had just gotten his smoothie, and was turning towards the small arrangement of tables inside, when…

“Gah!”

He accidentally bumped into somebody.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?”

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just a little jostled, is all.”

Fenton looked up, and finally got a good look at the man he had run into. The voice was unmistakable, but the black sailor suit confirmed it.

“Hey, you’re the boys’ uncle.”

“And you’re that scientist that Huey hangs out with.”

“I guess I am. It’s a pleasure, Mr. Duck,” Fenton replied, sticking out his hand.

“You can just call me Donald,” the sailor replied, shaking Fenton’s hand in return. “Donald Fauntleroy Duck.”

“Fenton Manuel Crackshell-Cabrera.”

“I just need to get my tea,” Donald pointed out. “Where are you sitting?”

“Oh! Uh, let’s do right over there,” Fenton answered, pointing to a table sort of nestled into a corner.

“Perfect.”

So Donald got his mug of tea, and then the two men sat down at the table.

“So,” Donald began, taking a sip of his tea, “what’s it like working for Uncle Scrooge?”

“There are things about it that could be a bit better,” Fenton admitted, “but it’s fun. It’s absolutely been a dream.”

“What’s it like with Gyro as your boss?” wondered Donald.

“He can be a bit cranky,” Fenton continued. “But he’s a good boss. His critiques only make me work harder.”

“Well, good for you,” Donald beamed. “And I agree; he can be a bit much at times.”

“Wait, you know Dr. Gearloose?” Fenton quizzed.

“Well, yes,” Donald admitted. “We actually go quite a ways back. We were good friends, er, back before I left to raise the boys. And after…”

“After…?”

“It’s complicated,” concluded Donald.

Fenton elected not to pry. “I’ve certainly heard about you raising the boys all in your own for ten years,” he continued. “That’s very admirable. And I should know. My p’pa died when I was very young, so most of my life, it’s just been me and M’ma. You’ve done very well for your nephews. You’re a very good role model.”

“Well, thank you,” replied Donald. “You’re not so bad yourself, from how I hear it.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Really. You shouldn’t sell yourself short on that, Fenton,” Donald elaborated. “Huey seems to have learned very well from you, and I appreciate you and Gyro taking him on in the lab. Well, not “taking him on”, per se, but you know what I mean. Huey has actually admired Gyro’s work for some time, even before he knew he worked for Uncle Scrooge. And he really looks up to you.”

Fenton was surprised at this. “He-he does?” he asked.

“Yep. For most of his life, he’s been the oldest, trying to be the model for his brothers,” Donald explained. “But even the oldest child needs someone to look up to like that. Tell me, Fenton. Do you have any siblings?”

“I do not,” Fenton replied.

“Well…” Donald trailed off.

“I mean, I’ve had a lot of friends,” Fenton admitted. “But really, none have been like Huey. He’s fantastic. And-well, shoot,” he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. “*cough* Sorry. I mean, if Huey does see me in that way, I’m honored. I can definitely see him like an hermanito, too.”

“Good. I’m glad,” Donald responded. “You know, I’m happy to finally get to talk to you, Fenton.”

“As am I, Donald,” agreed Fenton.

As the two men continued talking, they both realized something: despite their differing backgrounds, they weren’t so different themselves. They were both hard workers. They both knew how to put their minds to something and get it done. And their meeting also reiterated to Donald, and made Fenton fully realize, that they were both good role models.

[grumfield]

Hi!! I’m an aspiring author who wants to get traditionally published. Congrats on getting a literary agent! I don’t really know what a literary agent does or even, like, how one goes about getting one. Would you be open to sharing about your experience and what the publishing process is like? Hearts 🎀

oh ya sure!! happy to explain. it’s an industry that seems very impenetrable, especially because writing is such a solitary thing, so i’d be happy to give some insight. This is long!

I want to preface this though by saying: getting traditionally published ≠ writing. Getting traditionally published is a very thing than writing a book, and as someone who’s worked in a few creative fields, it’s the only one I feel where creative work is so closely synonymous with its commercial industry or seen as the logical conclusion to your art. It’s not. Rather than the end all be all it should be looked at more through the lens of drawing: some people do comics, some people do fine art, others make portraits for friends. It’s just something you can do with it or a direction you can try to pursue, with its pros, cons, and industry expectations. Traditional publishing is very much an analytics game. I think people forget it’s a business, with all the cynicism that comes with that.

So view this advice less as “the only way you can see success with your book is if you do x y z,” because it’s not, it’s me saying “this is everything involved with breaking into this specific industry for career purposes.”

The first myth you have to get rid of is the idea that it’s easy to get published. It’s not. So many people claim that anyone could write a “shitty booktok romance book” but it’s really the same thing as someone saying “my four year old could make that” at a piece of modern art. Sure you can make some similar paint daubs as the modern art, but did you? Did you think to? And most important, did you do the necessary work and networking so that your paint daubs are hanging in this museum? Writing is hard but getting published is harder, and it is insanely bureaucratic, finicky, and marketing heavy.

The process goes as follows on the author side: you write your entire book —> you query agents —> agent wants to work with you —> agent pitches your book to editors —> editor acquires your book. An editor acquisition means your book is going to be published. Let’s break it down.

Say you’ve written a complete book.

The first part of getting published is querying agent.

An agent is a combination of lawyer and business associate whose job is to sell your book to editors and be your advocate. They get a 15% cut of whatever your book sells for, so it’s in their best interest to negotiate the highest, best deal for you. The business side of things is more complicated. They are the gatekeepers of the industry. Publishers don’t take unsolicited submissions from authors, partly for liability reasons, but also because agents have done the tedious work of looking for a book they believe will make money and pitching it. This means that they look at recent trends and sales, and choose who they want to work with based on that, by being open to queries.

Querying is like pitching on Shark Tank. You identify “investors” you think will like your product (using databases like Manuscript Wishlist to see what agents represent your genre and what kind of stories they’re interested in representing), and essentially give them a pitch for why you should go into business together. A query letter is a detailed pitch that includes a ~3 paragraph pitch of your book, “housekeeping” (which includes your title, the word count, the genre, age category and comp titles). Comp titles are 2-3 books that you can see being on the shelf beside yours, and are used as a metric for agents to identify the selling potential of your book to publishers, so it’s recommended that you choose books within the last 5 years to show it’s a good financial investment. On top of this is usually the first 3 chapters of your book.

If an agent likes what they see, they’ll ask to read the whole thing. If they like what they read and have an idea of who might want to buy it, they’ll make you an offer to work together.

It usually takes multiple books and attempts at querying and years to get an agent. Even during the successful querying attempt it usually takes months. Aside from craft, writing a book that has a place in the market is tricky, and not something you can really do with intention. You can try to be strategic (reading recent books in the genre you right helps this a lot) but ultimately it’s still all up in the air. In the industry this is called being in “the trenches” because it’s a very taxing process and very long, often with disappointing results since there’s so much rejection. My personal experience identifies me as a “unicorn”, meaning that I got multiple offers in three weeks, so things moved unprecedentedly quick.

After that, you will usually work with the agent on edits for your book, where they give suggestions as to what can be done to make it more pitchable. Then, when it’s done, they’ll pitch to editors they think might like it.

Editors work at imprints. Imprints are to Publishing houses (like Penguin Random House or Harper Collin’s) what Froot Loops or Cheerios is to Kellog’s cereal. They’re entities that exist under one parent, and they each do different things. In the case of publishing, that’s genre and/or age group and audience. For example, Little, Brown has the imprints Little, Brown for Young Readers and Orbit for YA books and adult Fantasy respectively. Agents pitch your book to editors at specific imprints. Then, if the editor likes it, they’ll often have to go to the head of their division and pitch it to them. And if all of them like it, they’ll make you an offer. Then you sign, and for the next 2 years you work on your book and for publication day.

And there you have it, the basic rundown. I’m very early in my experience and won’t be going on submission to editors until the spring, so I don’t have much more about that!

My big tip for if you want to get traditional published is to read recent releases (especially debut novels) in the genre you write to get a sense of what’s popular, and specifically what’s getting sold that isn’t written by established authors.

[tendermiasma]

I Hope this question won't attract unwanted crowd, I'll try to type it in a way it hopefully will prevent it, but I have a question. As a professional artist, do you have any advice on how to not feel discouraged by A /i g3 ner*a/t3d images? And what to do to protect my art from being stolen? Recently I discovered one person close to me, also an artist, started incorporating that into their works and got into selling stuff assisted by it, and I feel kind of... heartbroken, betrayed? I don't know what to do, it makes me not want to continue the relationship, because this stuff is, in my opinion, actively hurting artists, but on the other hand, I don't want to lose a friend over it. Also, I am afraid that the only way to prevent what I create from being stolen is to not share it online at all, which is also heartbreaking, because one of the biggest part of creating (at least to me) is a form of dialogue with fellow humans, sharing emotions, and interaction between the creator, the art and the audience. I just feel lost. Also, I really admire your art, your skill, and you inspire me in a very profound way, just wanted to say that. Hope you have a good day!

Hi! It's a really shitty situation and I also often feel really doom and gloom about the whole thing. But the reason I keep making art is simple: It is my greatest joy to communicate through art and with every piece I make I continue to assert over and over that my human soul and the expertise that comes with it is a thousand times more valuable than a machine, and even though a lot of people wouldn't give a shit if a person or AI made it, there are always people out there who will care. I just really, really love doing it even while capitalism and our culture of consumption is taking on new and terrible forms. If we stop making art, what's left? Just the machine and nobody to speak up otherwise. Do nothing and lose everything vs keep fighting and something else, something better by some measure happens. Action is always the cure. I'm a big believer in that because I've found it to be true.

We're at a crucial time in the entertainment and arts industries. We all have some measure of power we can use against emerging policies and trends that don't benefit/actively hurt us. The WGA is currently striking in part to make AMPTP reconsider their AI policy of essentially just updating the WGA on the technology's progess annually. Other organized labor in entertainment and visual arts can negotiate anti-AI clauses into their contracts to make it less acceptable as a practice overall. You can use Glaze on your work to confuse AI engines and they just came out with a new version that I hear is a pretty nice jump in how detectable the texture is to your eye in the images.

I'm sorry you're going through that with your friend, though. It's hard and messy and there's no set way to go about it. It all depends on what you value most and what your own moral compass is telling you what you need to do here. Personally if it were a close friend of mine, I would talk to them about it. Depending on how they respond, your decision still might be a hard one or they could make it very easy. They will absolutely tell you how much time you should invest into this. Even if their attitude is clearly signaling that they do not care about you here and that you should move on from the friendship, it's probably still going to be painful and you'll grieve it for a while. Surround yourself with friends who understand how you feel and time will do its thing.

I think you should take comfort in that if you continue with art, this won't be the hardest decision you'll ever have to make. You'll have to make harder ones and will still come out on the other side. Even if you choose not to share your art on the wider internet and keep it as a precious thing among a smaller group of friends, it still has just as much worth and as you go along you will naturally find a balance between risks and reward. Don't forget that speaking out does actually have power in itself. Remember we've been able to bully a few companies into rolling back harmful practices in the past year or so.

I hope that was somewhat helpful. We're all trying to figure this out together and there's always going to be a future for artists as long as we keep pushing back hard. Capitalism takes a mile when you give an inch so it always, always matters to be vocal, spread useful information, use anti-ai apps on your art etc. It takes more energy to stay away from something you really want to do so I'm sure you'll find a way to share your art in the capacity you're comfortable with.

[deusexlachina]

Cheesage Exocolonist Age 11: Ruin Valentine's Day as soon as it is invented by blorboing so hard that it becomes existentially horrifying

In which Sol tells Tangent about her other lives for free candy and uses fashion to save people's lives before they are in danger.

Age 11 is kicked off by Marz inventing Valentine's day for free candy - you have to pick your Best Friend. Normally, I would do something sensible, like weigh all the different options to see how to maximize Friendship points and choose the Best Friend most optimal for my run. Unfortunately, Tangent is my blorbo and my shameless favouritism cannot be suppressed.

This is the first time I've picked Tangent after completing a run, so I only just now discovered this rather unsettling wormhole dialogue: when she asks for a reason you should be friends (Tangent being one of the harder characters to befriend, you do need a reason!), Sol can tell Tangent about the timeline where they were married.

Obviously this ruins your friendship completely, and...wait, she thinks it's cool? She gives friendship points?

"Grow old together" is a bit of a stretch - in the timeline Sol is referring to, my first playthrough, the marriage dissolved quickly because Tangent can never keep a relationship going with anyone, and also because Tangent lost her brother, had a supervillain phase and burnt out in like her twenties. (God forbid trans women do anything). Canonically, future memories aren't 100% reliable, but this still feels like burying the lede.

Despite this being one of the weirdest dialogues in the game, which is a very high bar, this is one of very few options where you can be completely honest about your other lives without being diagnosed as Delusional. (The twins are both very open-minded).

I really like the wormhole dialogues, because they start out awesome but the more of them you pick, the more you realize just how horrifying this whole situation is. This poor kid just trying to deal with having numerous other lives and no idea what to do with them with PTSD from stuff that hasn't even happened yet. They just get more and more detached from the world around them the more they loop. And they keep looping forever.

Marzipan gives me -2 Friendship for picking Tangent instead of her. But I like to think the penalty is really for ruining Valentine's Day by being 11 and reminiscing about married life/the only life Sol ever lived organically. I mean, she doesn't mention that. But would you? Really, this was a suboptimal choice, but I want to share some neat Easter eggs along the way.

Most of the year proceeds as usual, by which I mean neglecting my studies in favour of deckbuilding. I get Marz's friendship high enough for her to give me her jacket. Unfortunately, because she's my coworker, she knows how much money I have and, seeing I have more than 50 kudos in the bank, she will instead sell me the jacket. I take the L; it's fair for ruining Valentine's Day.

Besides that, the jacket is crucial. Tammy's dad Tonin is living on borrowed time - late this year, he will be killed in a manticore attack. I could go out and save him just in the nick of time. But that would be traumatic for him and poor Tammy. More importantly, it would give me more cards [bad]. Another route is persuading him to stay home, but, having neglected my education, my persuasion is at 0. Fortunately, I have Marz's jacket, which makes me cool enough to persuade him to babysit instead. Tonin joins his daughter in being saved without any idea of the danger they were in.

A couple months later, I save Hal. This is the first time I've saved someone and gotten recognition for it. This is a sign that these mortals will eventually bow to me as their ruler.

[afniel]

I'm into editing (still 2 chapters to write but we're not talking about that yet) and I'm proud to say that I have divested myself of the old habit of starting sentences with the word 'and.'

Unfortunately! I have picked up using 'quite' all the damn time for no reason, and I'll still comma splice a motherfucker to death, especially in dialogue. So there's that. It's at least easier to wrangle than literally 500+ superfluous uses of 'and,' which is what stopped me eventually from editing my old original novella from like, 2007. It was too much to deal with. I just had to stop.

But like. It's still definitely A Thing that I've got to get under control before I even consider posting. Sigh.

For the most part, though? I'm really enjoying the re-reading part of editing. It's actually pretty solid. I think there's some sticky-uppy pacing edges, but it's not as much the actual pacing and more that I just need to sell some events/reactions a little harder. So that's cool. I'm excited as hell and very hopeful that I'll have it out in maybe a week or so.

And honestly I'm trying to make it interesting sci-fi on its own merits. (I'm allowing myself that one initial 'and,' nobody @ me.) I think it'll still potentially be interesting even if you haven't played the games. There's so much personal worldbuilding, exploration of things that the games never get into at all, and alternate canon that I could almost file the serial numbers off, but I don't feel the need. So if you keep thinking it sounds interesting but eeeeh you aren't into Mega Man X...I dunno, give it a shot anyway?

I put a lot of work into turning it into something that's almost standalone in characterization (the only truly onscreen canon character is X himself and he gets fully characterized in the story outside of his ingame history anyway) and definitely standalone in themes, knowing that I've got friends who expressed interest but haven't played any of the games. So hopefully it'll be cool even if you don't go here at all. If you do go here, there are a few name drops that will help certain events hit a little harder, but it's not at all necessary. Think of it more like Easter eggs. There's enough essential information throughout that you should be able to put it together without any background, and I even resisted just infodumping at random, because that's not usually fun in a story.

ANYWAY. SOON. PLEASE LOOK FORWARD TO IT.

Also I'm doing character art and illustrating some of my more favorite moments. Like you do, when you're a weirdo polymath who can do both. So that's fun too.

[nervouscloudtheorist]

April 11th 2024

Dear Diary,

I must be really good at gardening now because when I woke up this morning and looked at my rose garden and saw that I now have pink roses!! I wonder if there will be other colors. I must try to get them all.

Also a new person moved into to town. I haven't met them yet since I am reading up on gardening but Isabelle mentioned that their name is Kitt. I wonder what kind of person they are. I will make sure that I meet them tomorrow. Maybe I will show them my rose garden!

I think Clay may have lied to me also because I have not been able to find a single Gyroid. Either they are harder to find than fossils or they do not exist. I don't want to think Clay would lie to me but I worry since he seems to still struggle with my name. Everyone else seems to have grasped it. I don't even think my name is that complicated. It's only like 4 letters. F-I-N-N finn. I'm starting to wonder, is Clay really even my friend? I shouldn't think like that though, after all I was the one who moved into his town. I'm the stranger here really. Isabelle says that I should just give him presents to try to help him remember. but I feel like I shouldn't have to do that.

I'm getting distracted.

Anyways I did my daily shopping and bought a new washer/dryer combo and a classic couch from Tommy! It was shortly after buying them though, I realized that my house was much too small for those things and I had to put them up for sale at Re-Tail. I don't think I mentioned it but Reese allows me to go and sell items in her store as well. Like she won't just buy them from me but instead the townspeople can buy it from her on my behalf and she will just give me the money. This works really well for me cause then I don't have to keep an eye on them myself.

Sable's Clothing didn't really have anything for sale. I am really worried I'm going to be stuck wearing Khakis for a while and while they are good for my Mayoral look, they are not flattering on me at all. The fact that I am wearing a parka and a bunny hood with it does not help either. If only we had like a more fashionable shop where I could get the latest fashions. But that's going to be a long shot to get in this town since it seems like it's been neglected for a while.

I also decided tonight that I was going to take Tortimer up on his offer and go to the Island. I inivted Isabelle to go with me since I really didn't want to go alone but she said she had too many things to catch up on and a lot of paperwork to do. I don't know if that's really the truth because I don't personally have anything to do in this town but maybe that's because she does all the behind the scenes work? I dunno. Regardless I was going to Tortimer's island alone. I went to the dock where Tortimer told me that a boat would be starting today and there was a boat and a Kappa.

I had never seen a Kappa in real life so to say I was shocked would be an understatement. He told me that his name was Kapp'n and that he would take me to the island for a round-trip fee of 1,000 bells. I wish Tortimer would have told me this when he was telling me about the island because that is a steep price to play when I don't have a reliable income.

I paid the fee, mostly because I wanted to see the big deal about the island, and got on the boat. Kapp'n sung the entire time and between us, he's really bad at it. His songs were good but his voice just was not appealing to me. I guess it is good that he is enjoying himself though so I kept my thoughts to myself and just let him sing his heart out.

It was really really warm on the island. Tortimer was not lying when he said that it was a tropical island. They also had mangoes and coconuts all over! I wanted to take some home but got worried because I could really only carry so much in my hands. There was a nice lady there who I could only assume was Kapp'n's wife. She was really sweet and let me know that there was a box I could put all my things from the Island in and that Kapp'n would make sure that they got shipped to the town. I think the entire resort is run by Kapp'n's family which is really sweet. I wish that I was still around my family...

I also learned that this place doesn't take bells either and that I have to earn medals from doing island tours before they will sell me anything. Between the medals and meow coupons I feel like the 3 places should just have the universal bell currency but I suppose to each their own.

Anyways I spent a long time on the island fishing and catching exotic bugs. Probably too much time honestly, because I am too tired to continue on so I will call this a night.

Goodnight!

-Finn

[sith-shenanigans]

npc ask game; The Master (from the Revanite quest on Dromun Kass)?

Hi! Sorry! I originally couldn’t answer this, because Alderaan and the Revanite b-plot were both a disaster and I had to resolve them. (These things are related because when I originally played through, I thought that when I closed Act 1 by confronting Zash, I might lose access to Act 1 quests. So Ahene went running around cleaning up every old quest in the quest log, and so she did the Revanite quest right before the finale of Act 1. And then it… turned out to be extremely important for character growth. Despite happening at the wrong time. Oops.)

So instead of being the Dromund Kaas planet quest, the initial Revanite plot turned into the main sideplot of Act 1. If you don’t want spoilers about specific plot twists in Liminality—which you probably do because you sent me an ask, but everyone else—now is the time to look away.

All looked away? Good, great, fantastic.

So the way the plotline starts is that Aleeleti, the friend who introduces Ahene to the Broken Chain, is of course a Revanite. And then the questgiver shows up to blackmail Ahene into spying on the Revanites, saying that if she doesn’t, he’ll just report that the whole Broken Chain is involved, and that won’t be hard to sell at all. So Ahene has to deal with the fact that a) her least complicated friend is actually putting everyone at risk, and b) now she needs to betray said friend, which she is really not on board with doing.

So this means that the bit on Nar Shaddaa with the vault is a Bonding Activity (because Ahene manages to get herself recruited after Balmorra), and also kind of a Revanite Trial, and she is coming to the conclusion that she honestly does not really care about Revan but these people are somehow the most reasonable Sith in the galaxy despite being a cult dedicated to a long-dead historical figure who didn’t live in the Empire anyway.

A bunch more stuff happens on Alderaan. The mask of Revan is involved. Those two Revanites who both want it? They go to Alderaan. As per the plot, they both try to get Ahene to give it to them. Not as per the plot, she says no. You both want to be the one to decide what to do with it, she says, but that’s not either of your calls. It’s your boss’s call, actually. The only person she will give this mask to is your boss.

She’s still not sure whether to betray them or to confess. She doesn’t want to betray them, but she’s… not really sure they’ll let her live if she confesses.

Cue the arrival of Tari Darkspanner, who kind of knew the whole time, and who decides to give Ahene a chance anyway.

This is a gesture of trust that Ahene really, really wouldn’t have expected. It’s barely in her worldview as A Thing People Might Do at all, much less a thing a Sith might do. Much less a thing a Sith with everything to lose might do—and Ahene keeps thinking that so much of the selfishness, so much of the cruelty, comes from having everything to lose.

We learn something about Ahene, here: the fastest way to earn her loyalty is to give her actual trust.

This isn’t something Ahene knew about Ahene until just then.

She goes back and convinces the blackmailing questgiver that he should just bury the whole thing, because if he tries to go after his master no one will believe him, especially with a piece of evidence that means nothing out of context. So he can’t turn in Aleeleti, either. (Possibly she’s keeping the amulet, so that she can threaten to go to her own master with evidence that would be much harder for her to get than for Darth—Charnus’s?—own apprentice to get, and turn the whole thing into nonsense and politics and the Inquisition all over everything, and of course Charnus will throw his apprentice under the bus.) Very much a “if I go down, you go down with me” kind of situation.

Ahene and Tari probably don’t speak again. Unless they do, briefly, when Tari tells her to go her own path afterwards. But Ahene considers herself a Revanite until it becomes clear that the Revanites don’t.

(Tari would have liked to think otherwise. But someone who was trustworthy as an apprentice is not necessarily trustworthy anymore, now that she has so much power. Or if she is, she is perhaps trustworthy to someone else. Darth Marr does not make political alliances—but it has been rumored, recently, that he has. And Tari knows that if Darth Occlus is anything like the strange, desperate little apprentice she met… Ahene would never betray that trust.)

[npc opinions]

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AJR lyrics which speak to my soul (in purely chronological order)

a.k.a. baring my soul into the void and finding an excuse to talk about my favourite band at the same time

When did all my friends turn into fake IDs and skinny jeans?/ I don’t belong

Sometimes I wonder if we matter at all/ if we’re not written down

And we’re just children in a world of diversion/ trying to stick it to the man before we’re grown

Like a flower sheltered in stone/ with no chance of regrowing

There’s a long day ahead/ she is lost in her bed

And why should I spend time running for my life?

I won’t forget you but I may/ forget your name

If the work gets me/ where I’m s’posed to be/ will I know I’ve made it then?/ It’s so hard/ Can we skip to the good part?

We said that we’d keep in touch/ and we did our best

Am I ready for love/ Or maybe just a best friend/ Should there be a difference?

I grew up on Disney/ but this don’t feel like Disney

I’m a little kid and so are you/ Don’t you go and grow up before I do

I thought I had the ADHD/ but that’s a real thing and I’m just lazy

Nobody knows my quirks/ cos I’m not famous, no

We’re standing, laughing at the disco ball/ like who’d invest in that if no one’s looking at it?

You haven’t got that far/ You can find a real job

Is it normal to stand here/ and wish that I was back at home?

My god, are you growing without me?/ Somebody help me

I’m kinda scared of graduation/ cos who am I when this is done?

I bet our parents always stay in love

We had to work a bit more hard/ only just to get a little bit less far

Can we keep my legos at home/ cos I wanna move out/ I don’t wanna move on

Life gives you lemons/ At least it gave you something

I was too worried how we’d end up/ I wasn’t looking and you grew up

Is this all that life’s about/ Trying to love how you turn out?/ I don’t love it much at all

Recently I’m thinking ‘bout my purpose on Earth/ but I don’t wanna think about my purpose no more/ cos it may come up short

I’ve been so good but it’s still getting harder/ I’ve been so good, where the hell is the karma?

Am I normal or not? Am I crazier than other patients?

I tripped on my ankle and fractured my elbow/ but doesn’t that mean that the tour’s gonna sell, though?

It could be passing/ Should I put eggs in more baskets?

They tell us to be different/ but no one told me I could go too far

They wanted heaven from me, I gave them hell/ Now they want something bigger, I’m overwhelmed

And I can’t be 18 my whole life/ But I’m too fucking young to feel so fucking old

It’s kinda funny how I keep debating/ if someone’s shy or if they hate me/ I feel like everyone I know right now is hooking up and getting wasted (without me)

Would you go running if you saw the real me?

It’s kinda funny how you vote for someone/ to vote for someone, to vote for someone

I worked really really really really hard, let me show you my play/ but I don’t wanna do it twice cos it’s not the same

I don’t ever think of you, I’ve got so much stuff to do/ Should have left you back at school/ Now, Joe, do you think I’m cool?

Put quinoa in my fridge, still I’m not feeling grown

The truth is that I’m screwed

I guess the last time you had any fun/ was way back when you weren’t anyone

Something’s wrong but I’m scared to look it up/ cos if I do that and no one has it/ I’ll feel so alone

Somewhere in the universe/ somewhere someone’s got it worse/ wish that made it easier/ wish I didn’t feel the hurt

And I don’t wanna cry no more/ so I set my bar real low

No, I ain’t happy yet but I’m way less sad

Well, I can’t fall asleep and I’m losing my mind/ cos it’s half past three and my brain’s on fire

And I’m trying too hard but I can’t not try

But I’m not dead yet, so I guess I’ll be alright

How lucky am I to have two things I love/ makes it that much easier to fuck it up

Am I talking too fast?/ I’m running on adrenaline and one-hour naps

I’m trying, trying, I can start Friday/ You’ve wasted your life but thanks for applying

I’m all grown up but you couldn’t tell/ Now I don’t know what to do with myself

You got older cos you’re good at life/ I’m all 17 at 35

Getting a life’s a little like dying

You think you’re hurting me/ Bet you won’t believe it but you kinda set me free

I’d do it in person but I’d probably mess it up/ I’ll text you, that’s enough