#magic conch

[pearlineproductions]

Listen to the conch shell, Yoshi…

Based on @bluefoxnick’s post from Twitter. No one’s done it with Yoshi, so I did it myself

[randomimagesofspongebobgames]

lights camera pants 2005 pc

[lotus-3dart]

Peil:

I’m disappointed no one has made this joke until now

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I JUST realized that the Magic Conch Shell from Spongebob is a reference to Lord of the Flies

[dndtreasury]

Magic Conch

[kurosurintomasu]

What does Giegue do in his free time?

he basically waits for others to do things so he can like

try and go along with it

[aboredneet]

I had a dream last night that a younger me and some friends found a sea shell on the beach. We quickly realized that this was no normal shell for if you put anything in it you would be sent though time, the amount was in correlation with the value of the item. We play with it and use it for fun stuff as kids do, and of course we didn't tell any adults crossing our hearts to never tell anyone.

A year or two after we discovered it a kid we don't know appears, he is from the future and used the shell because his mother had it and uses it for evil and is an evil dictator.

We probably should have questioned why she knew we had the old shell sooner. Or why her mother had the shell in the first place. We should have asked so much sooner but we were kids at the time, what did we know...

[kucikitty]

i will suck the life force out that man-

musicbank style studio || mingi

[q-oracao]

[plaguedocboi]

Looks at you like this

[physalian]

Fuck Grammarly

Okay I need to rant about Grammarly. A program I never used before and never will now. Doubly pissed because their ads keep interrupting my peaceful 4-hour Minecraft music session with their fake-ass influencers.

Guys. Gals. Nonbinary pals.

“As a corporate girlie—” learn how to write a proper concise email.

“I used to spend hours proofreading—” enjoy the process, and then the product.

If you hate proofreading, to the point where you’ll consult a robot to do it all for you, then you hate writing. If all you care about is the end product, sorry to say but ‘writing’ is like, 30% of writing. The other 70% is editing, by design. You’re supposed to like it.

Of course I’d love to have beautiful artwork of whatever’s in my head, but I’m going to love whatever I make a whole lot more than whatever I type into some garbage generator. Because I love the process of creation.

Do I think editing is tedious as hell? Absolutely, but it’s still a tedium that I enjoy. I like fixing my mistakes, I like improving my sentence flow. I like thinking about patterns and connections that I didn’t see before and revising and reworking until I’m satisfied.

For the humdrum day to day work emails that some of us have to write—if you’re sending out whole essays to your coworkers that you need a robot to write for you, you’re doing it wrong. Corporate emails are boring and trite, but I can type out a “hey please do this thing for me” faster than I can load up ChatGPT or Grammarly, type out my prompt, make sure the result is what I actually want to say, and then send it to my coworker. If you can’t, learn.

Apparently, Grammarly used to be a helpful way to check for spelling and grammar errors. I don’t have any issue with the AI that runs spellchecker whatsoever. I type so fast and miss typos constantly and when the spellchecker is absent, like on this website, it’s annoying af.

But that’s not what Grammarly is about anymore, and that’s not what the above ad was trying to sell you, either.

You won’t get better if you don’t practice. You won’t get better if you aren’t the one making, seeing, and fixing your mistakes. Especially if you write fiction where grammar rules are a suggestion at best. My published novel is littered with flagged words and sentence fragments that I know are technically improper English, but I sacrificed an MLA-proof paper for something fun and entertaining.

AI does not understand nuance and flavor text and aesthetic choices. It never will.

If you train yourself by using a crutch you don’t need, you will end up needing it because you’ll be too afraid to act without it.

Fuck up. Make a mess. Make mistakes. You won’t make them for long once you see them. You do not need a robot to do it for you. We’ve been writing books for hundreds of years and all the authors who came before did it just fine without a robot.

This isn’t even about writing novels, it’s about communicating in the written medium. Fucking. Learn. It’s not rocket science, it’s not coding in C++, it’s not brain surgery. It’s stringing words together in a comprehensible sentence.

And obligatory disclaimer: To anyone who has an impairment and needs these tools, this is not about you and you know it.

[prairiegh0st]

the collector

[esprei]

some rockstar!volo to brighten up your day 🎸✨

[taesnix]

hear me out: Connor and Mitchell but have their first proper interaction be going on a quest (3rd quester is Lou Ellen because I need more Lou Ellen + Hermes kids shenanigans content) to retrieve a special conch shell that requires the cunning and craftiness of a Hermes and Hecate kid and a connection to the sea that only an Aphrodite kid has. Percy offers them a few pointers on sailing but after that, they're on their own.

not sure what exactly the quest would entail but at one point they stop by a port town and Connor steals a bunch of pearls from an extractor. Mitchell reasonably panics a bit when he finds out because oh gods barely a day in and he already has to charmspeak someone into forgiving and forgetting them but Lou Ellen discovers that the extractor was doing detrimental damage to the sea life, so not being able to profit off of the pearls and harming the business is actually perfectly alright in her books.

Connor: perfectly alright, you say?

Lou Ellen: yeah, why allow some assholes to make money off of animal abuse?

Mitchell, seeing the glint in both of their eyes get brighter: ... sigh. Fine, I guess we can fit ruining their operation in today's itinerary.

They go haywire. Lou Ellen works the mist to give them more cover than usual, allowing Connor to have his fun completely messing with the extractors by setting up (relatively) harmless traps and stealing a little more with each passing second, while Mitchell distracts and deflects any concerns the extractors have

One of the extractors: oh, uh, yes! I can definitely show you where we keep the metal pliers, it's somewhere in the back. Let me just—wait, where the hell are my keys?

Mitchell, leaning in heavy with charmspeak: I think you left them near the back door, right? We can just go there now.

Exactor guy: ... yeah, of course. I always do that, easy access you know? Follow me.

And when they reach the door, Lou Ellen knocks him out and Connor unlocks it, a silver set of keys appearing in his hand seemingly out of nowhere. He winks when he catches Mitchell staring.

The rest of the quest follows pretty much the same: with one of them getting sidetracked and the others jumping in to "have a little fun", as Connor likes to put it. They eventually find the conch shell and return to camp, a little wounded but a whole lot closer.

As soon as Connor is let out of the infirmary, he dashes to the Hephaestas cabin. Mitchell is curious, but no one seems to know anything. Lou Ellen just cackles like a madman when she hears. "Ha, he was so antsy for most of the quest. Glad he's able to do something about it now."

Mitchell has no idea what on earth she's talking about, which takes him more off guard than he'd ever thought it would. Because he really believed that him and Connor had become close friends after everything they'd gone through. And surely, he would’ve known if Connor had something else going on. But apparently not. And Lou Ellen did.

And so what if it makes something burn in his chest? To know that Connor is keeping something from him when he thought they'd passed that hurdle long ago. To have that one conversation under the stars, afloat at sea, just drifting calmly and releasing their worries to the wind, that meant so much to him, not hold that same weight?

So what if he had feelings for Connor?

Mitchell doesn't sulk, because an Aphrodite kid will always retain most of their pride in the face of rejection, dammit. Connor seems to be—not avoiding him, but a little distant than he'd grown familiar with, and it hurts a bit. He can admit that.

It isn't until a few days later that there's a tentative tap on his shoulder after lunch and Mitchell turns around to see none other than Connor Stoll with a face so red, Mitchell is genuinely concerned he's going to pass out.

Mitchell: Connor? Are you okay? You look like you're going to explode or something.

Connor, fiddling with something in his pocket: ah ha ha, um, well. I have—something. For you.

Mitchell, completely taken aback: what? For me?

Connor: yeah, I— uh, I had to ask Nyssa for some help and then I had to go steal—I mean, borrow another one of yours because I wasn't sure how many to use and Nyssa wouldn't stop teasing me even though it had to fit perfectly—but t-the point is! This is for you.

And carefully, he pulls his hand out from his pocket and opens it. Laying gently in the center of his palm is a pearl bracelet. It's beautiful.

Mitchell: wait, are those...?

Connor, fingers tapping restlessly and somehow blushing harder than before: the pearls I stole on the first day? Yeah. I saw them on that boat when we were pulling up to the harbour and I just—

He pauses to let out a low, quiet breath, as though steeling himself.

Connor: I noticed your weren't wearing your favourite bracelet when we left for the quest and Lou Ellen told me that it took some damage from the lava wall the other day and you were heartbroken about it— so, I figured... well, you deserve something as beautiful as you.

And Mitchell is just speechless. His heart is pounding so loud and he melts on the spot because it's the sweetest thing he's ever heard and Connor is the sweetest person ever and gods, it was all for him?

Both of their hands are shaking as Connor helps Mitchell with the bracelet's clasp. And of course, it fits perfectly. Snug but not tight, a comfortable weight like it had been there all along.

Connor begins to pull away but Mitchell grabs his hand properly before he can. With hesitant maneuvering, Mitchell interlocks their fingers. The pearl bracelet subtlety reflects the light from the sun, making it look like it's glowing between them. Mitchell softly gazes at Connor, who tentatively matches his smile.

Mitchell: I love it, I really do. Thank you so much, Connor.

Connor: I'm, I'm really glad you do.

Mitchell: I want to take you somewhere. Follow me?

Connor: of course, anywhere.

So Mitchell leads Connor to his favourite spot near the strawberry fields, where there's enough shade under the sturdy tree but still bright and alive with the sun. Somewhere where they can once more lie down and hear the distant waves, free to drift off calmly and release their feelings and dreams, not just worries, to the winds, side by side.

They run into Lou Ellen on their way there. She takes one look at their intertwined hands, the new bracelet around Mitchell's wrist, and she lets out a triumphant whoop!

Lou Ellen: oh let's GO!!! Connor Stoll, bless your little heart, Cecil owes me 10 drachmas now!

Mitchell: huh, so I'm guessing you knew about this?

Lou Ellen: Mitchell, sweetheart. Every time you looked away, he had the worst case of lovesick puppy eyes I've ever seen. I thought it was bad at camp but this guy was clearly holding back. And I had to put up with Solangelo getting their shit together first-hand.

Connor: wh— I— wait. Did Cecil bet against me? Also...Solangelo?

Lou Ellen: Will and Nico, their last names. And Cecil didn't think you'd ever get the guts to properly talk to Mitchell after the quest, never mind enough to give him the bracelet. I, on the other hand, am familiar with what the sheer powers of long time pining can do. Also, having to stare into each other's eyes for like, 5 minutes while holding the conch shell pretty much sealed the deal.

Connor and Mitchell, now BOTH bright red:

Lou Ellen, snapping her fingers with a wild grin: hang on! Connor, Mitchell, conch shell... holy shit maybe this was fate.

And that, folks, is how Conchell came to be.

[emmanuel-the-manual]

No 🗣️ no🗣️ no🗣️