#the thing i posted two hours ago is sooooo nothing compared to the real thing ksjdhf MIGHT EDIT IT ACTUALLY

[isatoru]

literally worst thing ever when you're so close to being done with a fic and then suddenly you get an additional idea that could make it much better but it would mean having to go back through the 10k+ words you just wrote to add it in there as some big detail

[greatfay]

since ur answering asks and shit can u explain what u meant by generational differences in communication

Damn it’s like 2015 tumblr when my inbox used to be WET. So if you’re talking about the controversial opinions post, YES, like I totally understand where people are coming from when they say that generational divides aren’t real (because they aren’t, they’re arbitrary) and distract us from real problems and yes they paint past generations as collectively bigoted when Civil Rights protestors in the 60s (who are in their 70s and 80s now) are mirrors to BLM protestors today, who could be of any age, but the most vocal and famous (at least online, especially irt to the founders, like Patrisse Cullors who is 37.

But how we communicate is sooooo different. I really point to the Internet and Social Media as a major influence in how younger millennials (more Tom Hollands and less Seth Rogans—see even there, I feel like there are two different types of Millennials) and Gen Zrs/Zoomers and even Generation Alpha behave and communicate. We live in a world where we grew up either knowing right out the gate or discovering the hard way that what we say and do has permanence, the kind of permanence that prior generations have never experienced until today. The dumb things kids have been saying since forever can now follow them... forever. We have an inherent understanding of how online spaces work. Compare that to, idk, let’s say you posted on your Facebook (for the first time in 18 months) “All these big and bad grown ass Senators going after actual child Greta Gerwig lol ok, you’re so brave for attacking a CHILD over climate change” and then your aunt, who’s turning “forty-fifteen” in May replies to your post with “So happy to see my passionate niece! Much love from us, hope you’re doing well. Paul is doing great, waiting on his screening results. Tell your mom I said we miss her, we need to get together, we forgive her for last Christmas.”

Like... ok there’s a lot going on there, but your hypothetical aunt is oversharing on a publicly accessible post. And even with the most strict of privacy settings, she’s oversharing where your other Facebook friends (which may include classmates, coworkers, etc.) can see. But she’s saying things that would only be appropriate in a 1-on-1 conversation. This Aunt doesn’t have an understanding of such boundaries, she’s not as technologically literate and hasn’t grown up in a world of Virtual Space, she still gets most of her news from TV, she trusts what a reporter on Channel 4 will read off a script more than what actual video footage of an incident might reveal on Twitter, and she has no clue that she’s been sharing her location data with every post she makes.

There’s such a huge difference. I think it even affects how we experience and express stress and frustration. I think growing up partially in online spaces has made me more accustomed to conflict and consequence-free arguing than someone who never had to worry about that. I’ve been exposed so much to harassment and bullying, triangulating and echo chambers in forums and threads, and vastly opposing point of views at such an early age that it’s had an effect on how I see the world. Compare this to a customer I helped two weeks ago who was looking for a specific type of supplement for children. I found it for her, I handed her exactly what she was looking for, even though her description of the product actually matched several different products; to make sure I’d done my job thoroughly and that she leaves happy and satisfied and doesn’t bother me again, I then show her more products that match her description so that she knows she has options. And she proceeds to freak out, saying “NO, NO, I’M LOOKING FOR [X] AND IT HAS TO BE [XYZ]” and when I say freak out, she looked stressed and PANICKED. And being a retail employee wears you down bit by bit, and add COVID on top of it and little shit like this makes you snap, sometimes. So I have to cut her off like “Why are you screaming and freaking out, jfc you’re holding what you said you wanted. It’s in your hands. I gave you what you wanted, I’m just showing you more things.”

That customer is not an exception, she’s not a unique case. She’s representative of a frightening percentage of her generation, the kids who watched Grease and The Breakfast Club and Ghost in theaters when they were originally released. This is how they communicate and process information. She could not, for some reason, register that her need had been fulfilled, and defaulted to an extreme emotional response when given new and different information.

I’ve yet to deal with someone younger than 35 act the same way, the exceptions being the kids of very wealthy people at my new job who reek of privilege I gag when they walk in—but even they are like *shrugs* “ok whatever” and understanding when there’s something I can’t do for them.

Me: “sorry, we are totally out of that one in your size, but I can order it for you, it’s 2-3 day shipping at no cost to you and we ship it straight to your house”

A rich, white, attractive 22-year-old who’s had access to organic food, a rigorous dermatologist, and financial security since she was born: “mmm... sure, I’ll order it”

A 47-year-old of any socioeconomic background, of any race, in the same situation: “AHHHHHHHHHHH”

I just think it’s crazy how three generations of kids and young adults raised in a world where everything moves so much faster, where knowledge and entertainment and communication can be gathered so much faster, are often so much more polite and patient and understanding. Yesterday I told an older man (mid-50s) whose native tongue is the same as mine, as clearly and succinct as possible, that what he’s looking for is “in aisle 4.” He proceeded to repeat back, “Aisle 7?” four time before I dropped everything to show him what he needed in aisle 4, despite his insistence that he didn’t need me to walk him there. 4 and 7 sound nothing alike in English. There’s just something going on up there 🧠 that’s different.

Oh, other generational divides!!! We have different approaches to labor and working. Totally different! I’m a “young” millennial where I’m almost Gen Z, and I’ve noticed an awful trend among my demographic where people actually brag about working 90 hour work weeks. Or brag about how they skip breaks and live on-call to get the job done for “the hustle” like this “hustle, become a millionaire by 30″ culture that’s dominated these kids, idk where tf that came from. Like why are you proud of being a wage slave, getting taken advantage of by your millionaire/billionaire overlords. Compare this to my mother’s generation (she’s a borderline Genius X’er, she and her best friend were a year too young to watch Grease when it came out and had a random older woman buy tickets for her; she went to Prince concerts, took photos of him, then sold the photos on buttons at school, that’s her culture and teenage experience), where she’s insistent on her rights and entitlements as an employee, and these things she instilled me: “whatchu mean they didn’t schedule a break for you and you’re working 12 hrs today? oh no, you’re off, don’t answer your phone cuz you are NOT available!” There are Gen X’ers who entered the workforce at a time that America was drifting toward this corporate world, with more strictly defined regulations, roles, and understandings of labor rights (and also, let’s talk about how the 80s there was so much more attention on workplace harassment, misogyny and gender divides in wage gaps, etc. etc... not that much has changed, but at least it was talked about!). There are young people today who are taken advantage of because they aren’t as informed or don’t feel as secure and valuable enough to claim what belongs to them.

At the same time, those generations (Gen X and older) have a different viewpoint of hierarchies in the workplace and respect irt our direct supervisors. That’s how you get this blurring of boundaries between Work Life and one’s Personal Life that leads to common tropes in media written by their generations, where oh no! I’m having my boss over for dinner and the roast beef is still defrosting :O is such a “relatable thing” for them... meanwhile us younger generations are like I don’t even like that you know where I live, and if I see your 2017 Honda Civic pass my place one day, we’re going to have a problem. I think older generations have a different relationship with the word “Respect” than we do. Like, my grandma, who’s turning 87 (?) this year, and the other seniors in my area, they have a different concept of honor and an expectation of professional boundaries that I, and my mom and her generation, just don’t see (so then there’s something in common with Gen X’ers and the rest of us.) My dad grew up in a world where talking and acting like George Bailey and knocking on someone’s door with a big smile could get you a job, a job that could pay for college and rent no problem. My mom grew up in a world that demanded more prestige, where cover letters and references could get you into some cushy jobs if you’re persistent and ballsy enough. And I grew up in a world where potential employers literally don’t see your face when you apply unless they lurk on any social media profiles you have publicly available and they hold all the cards, and you need all those CVs and reference letters just to make minimum wage... so I feel like I am powerless in the face of such employers.

[mcwriting]

starstruck (4)

Here it is... finally! It’s ~angsty~ but it was really fun to write. 

I will say, I realized while writing this that the timeline of this fic is sooooo short but hey, its fiction, so I guess anything can happen lol. I tried to resolve it in later chapters but it’s definitely quick moving in these initial chapters. 

There’s a lot of italics in this one lol

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fandom: Thomas Stanley Holland

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader (eventual)

Setting: LA in general

Word Count: 2240 yeet

Warnings: angst, some mild language

Rating: still k+ right now

Last time on starstruck...

“Hey what’s going on? Uh huh. No, we actually have it handled. I might or might not be with her right now… no it’s fine. Seriously, we are laying low! We’re on the way to the hotel right now. Alright, alright I’ll see what I can do. See you in a few.”

And with that, he hung up, turned to you, and said, “That was my manager. Apparently we’ve got a problem.”

                            __________________________________

You pulled underneath the awning of the posh hotel Tom was boarding at, the kind of place you only dreamed of staying.

Sure, your family wasn’t poor, but your parents definitely weren’t the type of people to spend a lot of money on hotels. They claimed to enjoy spending more money on the “fun” parts of vacations than where you slept at night.

To each their own, you supposed.

Tom wanted you to come inside, per request of his manager, so you figured you would drop him off and park so you wouldn’t be seen together. 

The valet had other plans, however, pulling you out of the car and exchanging your keys with a numbered slip of paper. 

It all happened so fast that for a moment you just stood there, stunned. You snapped out of it when the man began to drive off and Tom grabbed you to lead you inside.

The lobby was massive and covered with marble flooring. A large, plush rug covered many of the tiles and on top of it sat some luxurious couches and armchairs, framing a huge TV on the wall. 

On the other side was a long marble counter that seated hotel staff, who stood at the ready upon seeing Tom.

You also couldn’t help but note the smell, a light, sweet floral scent wafting through the air pleasantly. 

This must be rich people scent you thought to yourself.

Due to the nature of it being midday, very few people were seen in the lobby, and Tom led you straight through to a hallway and past the main elevators, his hand resting on your lower back the entire time.

“I have access to a service lift so less people will see,” he explained, as if he’d just read your confused mind.

You walked briskly with Tom through the winding hall, finally ending up at the alternate elevator, where he swiped his key card and the doors slid open with a few creaks.

You tapped your foot nervously as you passed floor by floor, letting go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding upon reaching the top.

Once again, you followed behind Tom through the hall and to his room. You stood awkwardly in the doorway, clenching onto the straps of your beach bag, as he entered to find more suitable clothing.

After disappearing for a moment, he popped his head back out.

“You can come in, you know. This might take a few minutes.”

You stepped further into his suite, making your way to the sliding doors attached to a balcony. Looking out you could see Los Angeles in full light, the people and cars below feeling so out of reach, like nothing you had ever experienced in your city.

You seemed so out of place in the heavily decorated room still in beach clothing and legs covered in sand.

You could hear Tom rummaging through the drawers and walked over, giving a gentle knock on the open door.

“Having trouble, twinkle toes?” you joked at the way he pillaged through his clothes. He smiled at your commentary.

“Maybe a bit. Do you need anything? A drink, snack? The fridge is stocked so take anything you like.”

You were surprised at his generosity and at how little he cared about paying for that stuff. In your family, everything in the hotel room was off limits if it wasn’t free.

“I think I’m good but do you mind if I use your restroom? I really need to rinse this sand off and put on some real clothes.”

“Go right ahead,” he gestured to the bathroom door.

The bathroom was also massive, especially for a hotel. The shower thankfully had a handheld spray head so you were able to just target and rinse your legs. You tugged on some athletic shorts and a loose tank top to replace your former garments.

You quickly used the toilet too and went to wash your hands, not believing how many fancy soaps and lotions covered the counter. 

As you lathered, a small bottle caught the corner of your eye. It was a light yellowish color and read “OBSESSION for men.” 

Of course he would wear Calvin Klein cologne. Now I know.

You finished up and made a final once over in the mirror, fixing some stray hairs in your ponytail and opening up the door. 

You stopped in your tracks as your eyes laid upon Tom, who was shirtless with his back to you, the elastic of his underwear poking out of his pants’ waistline.

“You’re a pretty big fan of Calvin Klein, huh?” you asked, referring to both the cologne and his boxers. He turned around, giving you a view of his bare chest, which didn’t disappoint, a fact that you pretended was annoying.

“Hah, yeah. I really want to do an ad campaign with them if you couldn’t tell,” he bent over to pick up a shirt from the bed and toss it on. 

“Well with the cologne and underwear you’re pretty much a walking billboard.”

“You like the cologne?” he asked, causing your face to heat up. You knew a blush was present and probably obvious, so you decided not to lie. 

“Yeah, actually I do. It’s a nice scent. It also happens to be all over my bed right now thanks to a certain someone,” you tipped down your chin and raised an eyebrow accusingly. 

“You want it? The company actually sent me like… eight bottles and a bunch of clothes not too long ago after I posted on Instagram about them. I can’t get rid of them fast enough,” he offered, walking towards you.

“What? No! I couldn’t just take that from you. What would I tell my friends when they see men’s cologne bottle in my room? I can’t say ‘oh yeah Tom Holland gave it to me’ and it would be majorly out of character to tell everyone that it’s what you wear.”

He went past you into the bathroom and rummaged through a toiletry bag, muttering an “aha!” when he pulled out another bottle identical to the one on the counter, except this was sealed and full.

“Seriously Tom I can’t just tak-” you started when he dropped the bottle into your bag.

“Whoops,” he quipped, “no take backs. Now your bed can forever smell like me”

You were ready to argue again (with an undeniable smile on your face) when there was a loud rapping on the main door.

Tom grimaced at you to wordlessly send a message of ‘prepare yourself’ as he took a deep breath in and headed out of his bedroom. You silently followed into the living room and watched Tom open the door, where a well dressed man and woman pair stood talking.  

                            __________________________________

At first you and Tom together discussed the plan you had made at the beach with his manager and publicist, neither of whom seemed to like the idea very much.

They asked to speak with Tom privately, so you relocated back into the bedroom and sat on the side of his bed, reminiscing on how the roles were almost reversed compared to only two evenings prior. 

You were only in there for about ten minutes, but it seemed like hours. You were too anxious to mess with your phone and instead looked out his window.

There was a quiet knock on the door before Tom opened it. You recognized the steely look in his eyes and the way his jaw was clenched. 

He motioned for you to come out, and almost immediately after stepping into the living room his manager started talking to you.

“So, y/n, right? I’m gonna have to give this to you straight. You cannot be seen with my client ever again,” she stated bluntly, “it’s nothing against you, of course, but Tom here needs to maintain a ‘single’ rep until this movie is no longer in theatres and frankly you’re jeopardizing the whole thing.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you weren’t happy to hear this woman’s feigned criticisms.

“I’m sorry, but Tom is the one who sought me out. I never liked him, you could ask any person who knows me and they would tell you the same. I’m only here because Tom asked me to meet him about getting rid of this whole ‘scandal’ or whatever you want to call it. So if anyone is jeopardizing Tom, it’s himself.”

The publicist took a step forward.

“Look, miss y/n, it’s really nothing against you, we just want to maintain his image, and the best way to do so would be for us to go online and tell everyone he helped you get medical attention for an injury, which we all know is true, and end it at that. It makes Tom look like a hero, and you’ll be popular for weeks with your peers I’m sure,” he explained, angering you further. 

“I never asked for this. I don’t want attention. I don’t want the world, or more importantly my best friend, to find out I’ve been lying about the guy I used to hate. Do you realize how many rumors this will fuel? This is ridiculous and I can’t allow you to put out my information like this.”

“Oh, well. Too bad. I just sent the tip to TMZ and they’re posting the story tonight,” he replied, “and Tom is going live on Instagram at 4:00 to address it the way we told him to and you two can’t be seen together again. Text all you want like you have been, but no public contact. Unless of course we want to do a ‘girl saved by hero reunites with him’ thing. Oh man would that look so good-”

“I’m done. This is so sick. Tom,” you looked directly into his eyes, “never contact me again, you disgusting cheap sellout bastard,” you spat, a fire in your own eyes like nothing anyone had ever seen from you.

“Y/n I-“ he began, but you were already heading to the door. You could hear footsteps behind you and the door slam shut but you kept power walking towards the main elevators, hoping they were the opposite direction from which you and Tom initially came.

“Wait!” he cried out, finally catching up and grabbing your elbow.

You threw his hand off but stopped moving forward and instead spun around to face him. Tears had made their way down your cheeks by now and you weren’t any happier to be so vulnerable in front of Tom. 

Never in your life did or expect the next (or even last) guy you’d cry over would be Tom Holland.

“Y/n, please listen,” he pleaded, his face was also red, as if he were going to cry himself. You stood firm and gave him an expectant glare, so he continued.

“I don’t want to do this, I really don’t. Please understand that I have to, though, no matter how much this hurts. We can still talk. I was so drawn to you the second I saw you in that crowd just last week and I could’ve never imagined how close you could become in the short amount of time we’ve known each other. Please, babe, I don’t want to lose you.”

Anger flashed inside of you again and you felt your chest tighten at the bomb he’d just dropped..

“Do you really, Tom? Do you really care? Because to me it sounds like you actually have a choice here, but you’re too much of a pushover to do what’s right. If you really cared, you wouldn’t do this to me. I was serious back there. Don’t talk to me again, and definitely don’t call me babe if you do.” 

 “I’m so, so sorry, y/n,” Tom’s voice finally broke, and you could see the way his lip quivered as he continued, “I’m sorry I ever got you into this mess.”

“Me too,” you whispered. 

You wiped more stray tears and turned, looking back one last time into the face of the broken-hearted celebrity, hoping it was the last time you would ever see his face, but knowing it wouldn’t be the end of it.

                            __________________________________

You exited the elevator, which you were glad was empty. More tears had fallen on the journey down and you mustered up everything you could to stop them, at least until you were off the premises of the hotel. 

Though knowing you looked like a wreck, you walked through the hotel lobby with head held high, looking straight forward at the large front doors. 

Your numbered ticket was in hand and you gladly gave it to the valet so he could pull up your car.

It was getting harder to hold it together as you waited. Finally, he appeared and parked the car in front of you.

He held out the keys and then stood directly in front of you, silently pleading for a tip, even though he could probably see the obvious anguish on your face. 

Finally, you gave in, rolling your eyes as you dug through your bag for a spare $5 bill and slapped it into his hand with disdain.

“How kind. Have a nice day, ma’am!” he voiced cheerily.

You fought the urge to flip him off as you sat down in the driver’s seat and began the journey back home, dread filling your stomach the closer home became.

                           __________________________________

A/N: yeehaw that was a fun time. Next chapter is angsty too sorry I don’t make the rules... :)

Tag List: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl

[flightlesssoren]

Starry Eyed

My gift exchange piece for @menxisan for the @sb69giftexchange!  I hope you enjoy some sweet girls~

This work has been cross posted at AO3

As her phone lights up and chimes for the fourth time that night, Candy Lapin can’t help a fond sigh escape her lips. Every day, for this entire week leading up to the Star Festival her best friend, Pig Macaron, has been sending her excited messages on how much she’s looking forward to the event. It’s no secret to how much she adores the galactic idol prince, Shuuzo. So when Judas had announced they would be the starring band for the festival, Pig Macaron had waited with baited breath in front of her phone screen, until the clock ticked over and tickets went live.

Candy Lapin, of course, would be dragged along with her. For emotional support.

Sometimes, Candy Lapin wishes her friend would put this much time and energy into their own band practice than she does with her Shuuzo obsession.

Fussing with her sweet styled head bow, Lapin smiles at herself in the full length mirror. Despite not being a Trichronika fan herself, she is looking forward to what else the festival has to offer. First and foremost; being able to wear an adorable yukata for the occasion. Entirely sweets themed, the look is complete with a cute handbag in the shape of a melting cupcake. It's hard to stop herself imagining all the delicious sweets and savoury foods she would soon be eating - the second best thing to any festival.

Eyes lighting up when her apartment doorbell rings, she quickly answers the door to a hypergenic Pig Macaron.

“Oh Lapin, you look totes adorable!” She squeals at once, launching herself onto Lapin’s waist in an excited hug.

“So do you,” although it was but a quick glimpse, she had caught sight of a lot of pink ruffles. Candy Lapin doesn’t miss the bag bursting by her side with all kinds of merchandise with Shuuzo’s face slapped onto it.

After her greetings are done, her friend immediately takes her hand and starts to drag her out the door. “Ah, wait! I need to lock up the house.”

“Come on, come onnn. I wanna get there early so I can buy all the limited merch!”

Ignoring her protests, Lapin makes sure her house is in order before locking up. Seeing that she’s finally done, Pig Macaron makes another barely contained squeal as she leads the way to the taxi waiting outside for them.

With the promise of getting to see the rest of the festival later, Candy Lapin is a true friend that day as she first waits in line with Pig Macaron at the merchandise stall. Although waiting in line feels like a very tame term to the actual reality of the situation. Thankful of her height, Candy Lapin clings onto Pig Macaron as a sea of screeching girls and boys fight their way to the top of the line.

At least nobody is shoving and kicking. Yet.

Feeling mentally exhausted after the entire ordeal is over with, Candy Lapin hates to imagine how disheveled she must look. All those hours in front of her mirror, gone to waste in just a few minutes. Yet somehow, Pig Macaron looks immaculate. She supposes years of fighting off fangirls has hardened her somewhat.

“Thank you so much, Lapin!” Pig Macaron gushes. “I wouldn’t know what I would do without you sometimes.”

“I’m pretty sure you could have fought off that entire crowd single handedly, for reals.”

Puffing up her chest a looking a little proud at that, she digs around in her bags for a moment. “I got you something, cus I want you to know you’re totes appreciated!” she holds out what appears to be a necklace covered in stars and glittering rhinestones.

“Oh I love it! It’s soooo cute!” Lapin squeals. “It’ll match my yukata.”

“I know it must be so annoying lining up and like.. Putting up with me being such a spazz about all this bu-”

“Now now, you’re my cute, dear friend, and I wouldn’t stop supporting your passions for anything. Don’t go thinking you’re annoying me or anything like that.”

Pig Macaron beams up at her.

Arms linked, they start searching for a good place to view the concert from.

With much deliberation, and Candy Lapin getting a crash course in why just a few rows from the front is much better acoustic wise than the very first row, the excited rumble of the crowd pitches slightly as one by one, the stage lights snuff out.

Even with the strung up lanterns glowing brightly all around them, the makeshift stage darkens as much as it’s able in the festivals ambiance. Candy Lapin can’t help a fond smile as she feels her band mate practically vibrate on the spot, eager to see her celebrity crush come out on stage. However, the flickering stage light glow a bright red, a colour hardly associated with Trichonika at all. The scream of an electric guitar starts up and three small figures emerge from the haze of the smoke machines.

“Surprise, peasants! Today you shall bear witness to our rapturous dark melody, a sound of which is only fit for those of nobel tastes. Be grateful I’ve descended upon you today, as my time is nothing but precious. My name is Ailane, and I rule over the darkness of this world!”  

The young girl cackles in delight, a shocked murmur growing throughout the crowd. Yet, it’s not an unwanted sound. Bud Virgin Logic’s fame is second to none in Midi City. From their growing popularity of coming out as a band hardly a year ago, they have managed to dethrone most of the girl bands in the city; and their strength in fan numbers still grows more each day.

“Due to last minute commitments, Trichonika unfortunately can’t make the Star Festival tonight. However, we are pleased to announce that Bud Virgin Logic will be performing for you all tonight instead,” the MC declairs on the megaphone.

A low cheer starts up, jeers and catcalls sounding out among the crowd.

“Ailane-sama, you look so cute in that yukata!”

“Please, drag me to hell with you!”

“Ailane-sama, step on me!!”

“Back off, you swine!” Peipein snarls, jabbing her guitar at the desperately clawing crowd, but nothing is louder than the indignant screech coming from Candy Lapin’s side, managing to deafen her bandmate as well as silence out half the crowd around them.

“WHAT! IS! THIS?!”

Pig Macaron screams, face flushed red and stamping her trotters. She looks about ready to leap up onto the stage and bludgeon Ailane with her Shuuzo fansign. “Where is Shuuzo-kun!?”

“Pig Macaron, please calm down!” Candy Lapin pleads, grabbing hold of her friend, half out of fear her friend would make a violent move, half out of worry the crowd would turn on her.

“No, I can’t calm down! I’ve spent so long looking forward to seeing my beloved Shuuzo-kun I won’t let some nobody ruin it!” Her loud voice manages to catch the attention of those around her, causing enough of a ripple to tip the band members off that something is wrong. Ailane carelessly glances their way- Pig Macaron immediately makes eye contact. “Yeah, I’m talking to you! I didn’t come here for you, you midget !”

A deathly silence follows her shrieks. Almost the entire crowd fears for the poor girl’s life as an almost demonic aura crackles around Peipein upon hearing her Master being slurred so brazenly. As her mouth opens, one hand reaching into her yukata bow for something sharp and deadly- the sound of Ailane’s guitar sings out. She holds the note before pointing directly at Pig Macaron.

“You. Piggy. After one song, I’ll have you begging me for more. You won’t be able to get enough of my dark melody.”

“How.. how rude! ”

Candy Lapin finally managed to yank the girl back down into her seat.

“We… we can always leave if you’d like?” she whispers. Some of the men around her are shooting them both dirty looks.

“No way! I’m totes not letting that runt get the best of me. I’m gonna sit here, and make her know I hate every second of it. That’ll teach her!”

Candy Lapin fights the urge to put her face in both hands.

Now that the festival lights around the concert area have all snuffed out; only the demonic red glow of the spotlights on stage illuminate the girls silhouettes. As their claimed dark melody begins to start, Candy Lapin can’t help but sit a little more up right in her seat. Very rarely does she listen to anything with such a heavy beat- preferring much lighter and prettier melodies- but there is something almost hypnotic when hearing the of the roar of the guitar, and loud drum and cymbal crashes.  

Yet the melody can hardly compared to Ailane’s voice. A voice so powerful, Candy Lapin can hardly believe such a small body can produce such a sound. It’s utterly captivating. She leans over to tell Pig Macaron so, but notices her friend is entirely distracted by the singer before her; mouth half hanging open, eyes bright and wide.

A surprised smile crosses Candy Lapin’s lips.

“So… how was that?”

A very sour pout is fixed firmly on Pig Macaron’s face.

“Awful. I hated every second of it.”

“It was that good , huh?”

Twisting her face in rage, Pig Macaron thrashes her arms by her side before throwing both of them up into the air with a disgruntled noise. “Fine! She was sooooo, totally awesome! I’ve never heard anything like it before. It was so, like, passionate, you know? I’ve never thought about following rock music before… I wonder how many singles she has out now? I hope I can still buy them. And m-maybe... she was cute too.”

“Did you hear that, Ailane-sama? You have a new fan.”

Whipping around, Pig Macaron’s face drops in horror when she sees the girl band standing behind them. A smug smile spreads across Ailane’s face. “I told you I would captivate you, Piggy.”

“My name is Pig Macaron!” She shouts, face flushing in either rage of embarrassment, Candy Lapin can’t quite tell anymore. “And- and that was a lie! Your performance was, like, total garbage. It could never stand up to my beloved Shuuzo-kun’s songs!”

“Hmpf. Say what you will, peasant, but I already heard your praises. Anyway, who’s this Shuuzo-kun you keep going on about; sounds like a nobody.”

Candy Lapin is sure Pig Macaron is two seconds away from losing her mind.

Grounding her teeth, she’s unable to let Ailane out fox her- yet can’t think of a comeback to throw in her face.

“W..would you like to watch the fireworks?” Candy Lapin offers nervously, not wanting another argument to break out. Although neither girl appears to have malicious intent towards the other- playful, teasing banter as if they’re in the school yard feels more accurate.

“That would be lovely,” the myumondroid, Hundreko, smiles. “We were just heading over there ourselves. Master, would you like to invite your new friend along?”

“What new friend?”

“The one you keep calling... Piggy.”

A double cry of “she’s not my friend!” “I’m not friends with her!” rings out.

[dramallamadingdang]

‘Tis reply time!

For @criquette-was-here, @alexbgd, @scibirg, @simsllama, @didilysims, @emeraldfalconsims, @getmygameon, @holleyberry, @raindropdrinkwater, and @ilikefishfood...

Hilarious! Wandering through original game resources is always a great fun ��

This was actually the first time I’ve seen something like that. Maybe I need to pay closer attention...

alexbgd replied to your post “*plays Castaway Stories* WHY DOES THE TAB KEY NOT WORK??! Oh, right,...”

I also wish they have button for hunger, bathroom etc in sims 2 like in castaway..

scibirg replied to your post “*plays Castaway Stories* WHY DOES THE TAB KEY NOT WORK??! Oh, right,...”

what i like the most in castaway are the keys you can press to get sims to fill their motives, like H for Hunger. i always try to press h when i get back to ts2.

Yeah, those buttons ARE really nice! It’d be nice to have them for TS2. They really reduce the mouse clicks, if you use them. Which I guess was kinda the point since the Stories games were designed with laptops in mind. Not everyone has a mouse for their laptop and, at the time the games were made, not all laptops had nice touchpads but rather those stupid little pain-in-the-butt mouse buttons. :P My only problem with those keys is that I tend to hit “Y” for hygiene when what I really want is “U” for cameraman mode. But that’s more because I’m a sloppy typist.

simsllama replied to your post “*plays Castaway Stories* WHY DOES THE TAB KEY NOT WORK??! Oh, right,...”

I never knew that you can do it with the key 'U'! ��

Yup! That’s how you get into cameraman mode in the game. I assume it’s that way in all the Stories games. Otherwise, it’s hard to take nice pics. :)

didilysims replied to your photo “So what do you do when you have way too many babies on a lot and not...”

Ha ha, you are so lucky the social worker wasn't stranded here too. :P

Inorite?! Then again, even if she was, it’s not like there’s anywhere she could take away the kids to. :) Unless she wanted to raise the little hellions herself or something.

emeraldfalconsims replied to your post “Preggo Komei!”

Your Goopy reminds me of a cross between Glen Quagmire and Gaius Baltar.

I confess that I had to look up both. :) I’ve never watched Family Guy and only watched the new Battlestar Galactica once, years ago. (Now, if it was the original Baltar? Totally clear memory there. John Colicos was a scenery-chomping god. :) ) But now that I’ve done my looking-up...Yeah, I can see it. Especially if you add a bit of surfer-dude to the mix. :)

didilysims replied to your post “Sims ask: 7 8 17 :)”

I didn't know there WAS a great debate until I saw this meme floating around. Thanks for educating me. ;)

Well, it was a great debate a while back. As I recall, there was some sort of livestream or something prior to TS4′s release where the devs were playing a bit to show off the game, and one of them said “Live Mode” with “live” pronounced with a short “i.” Then there was The Debate. (That short-i dev was completely delusional. Obviously. :) )

didilysims replied to your photo “Brandi LeTourneau. Or, as I call her, “Big Hair” LeTourneau. ...”

Does the game keep track of fish caught/fruit eaten/etc. for you or are you manually doing that?

Manually, unfortunately. I wish there was some sort of modded object, like that painting someone made that counts dream dates and whatnot, but...alas. Then again, I think that painting works by looking at memories, and since the things I’ve targeted don’t generate memories, I’m screwed, anyway. :) Thankfully, no one’s been doing much of anything other than toddler-wrangling lately, sooooo... :)

didilysims replied to your post “So you’re stranded with seven other complete strangers on what may or...”

Those sleeping positions are...different.

They kind of sprawl, yes. The animations are funny, too. To get into the bed, they stand with their back to it and flop backwards. The sprawl they land in is how they sleep. I’m guessing those animations is why the leaf beds weren’t converted to TS2. Which is a shame.

getmygameon replied to your post “Preggo Komei!”

Well that's the door to the 7th hell blown wide open right there...

It’s the door of all the hells blown open, yes... Well, actually, no, it’s really not all that bad. Two of the toddlers are children now, and children pretty much totally free-will in this scenario, so I don’t have to do anything with them. Just watch them be kids, basically. Five of the remaining toddlers are about to age to child as I type, so I’ll just be left with two toddlers -- Who will age the next day -- and two babies. And no one’s currently pregnant, either. Easy-peasy. :)

holleyberry replied to your photo “Say whatever you want about Sandy Bruty. I think she’s very pretty....”

As you know, I am a BIG Sandy Bruty fan. I think with the right hairstyle and make up she's a real beauty.

Even without hair/makeup, I just think her facial structure is striking. Maybe it’s because she has fairly large eyes, which I always find attractive. (Though not when they’re unrealistically-large, like in anime-style.) She has nice cheekbones, too. Yeah, her mouth/lips are a little extreme, but it’s easy to overlook that, IMO. Plus, she’s a Romance Sim, and I have a weakness for those. They’re just so fun because sex-postitivity is fun.

holleyberry replied to your post “Sim Parenting: A comparative study”

I've always said romance sim males make very good daddies.

They do, yes. Get them in a more committed relationship and their romance-y wants focus on their partner(s), mostly. Sure, there’s the occasional want to “cheat,” but my feeling when playing committed/married Romance Sims is that they’re more the open-relationship type, and I imagine that their partners, if they’re not Romance themselves, would lean more that way, too, that they’d kind of have to in order to make a decision to commit themselves to a Romance Sim, who they have to know is going to want to “cheat.” Right? I mean, they’d know that. Unless they’re really stupid. :) 

But that’s why I think you get Goopy/Sandy right in your story. They love each other, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not interested in other people, too. And you know what? There’s nothing wrong with that.  But I’ll stop before I get on a soapbox. :) 

And yeah, Romance Sims do tend to be kid-interactive, too. I think it’s because most of the pre-made Romance Sims, playable or otherwise, were given more playful personalities. That seems to be the key to good, attentive parenting in the game. It’s probably why Ben Long is a good dad, too; although he’s Knowledge, he’s got 7 playful points. Sandy’s got 8 playful points, and she’s all over her alien twins in this scenario. Pre-made Family Sims tend to get the Cancer personality, which is middle-of-the-road boring...and fairly serious, too. Which is totally not conducive to kid interaction.

raindropdrinkwater replied to your post “Sim Parenting: A comparative study”

Yup. In my experience, family sims aren't even that good at taking care *of themselves*. Swoon over the romance sim? Check. Complain about not being pregnant often enough? Check. Feed oneself, or one's spawn? Hmpff. Who has time for that?

*nods* Very true. It always dismays me that, when people play “Orphanage” challenges, they tend to make the adults Family Sims. It makes me want to scream, “NOOOOOOOOOO!” They’re the absolute worst choice for that. Family Sims are breeders in the worst sense of the word. They’re all about having the kids, but not at all about actually taking care of them or loving on them. And they definitely don’t care about kids that aren’t their own. For that, you need playful Pleasure Sims. They’re the best kid-raisers ever. 

But since there’s no Pleasure aspiration in Castaway, the Romance Sims are stepping up to the plate. Goopy and Sandy are amazing in this scenario. :) Ben Long the Knowledge Sim is right there with them, too, and Andrea Hogan the Fortune Sim seems content to be the support system who’s always happy to empty the potty and change diapers when needed. :) And play with the kids, too, since she’s got 8 playful points. :) Whereas Orlando the Family Sim? Yeah, I’m contemplating nasty things for his future... ;)

ilikefishfood replied to your photoset “When you spend hours on stuff that’s purely, uselessly decorative....”

I do the saaaame thing! Lol! It's gorgeous, by the way!

I’m not alone! *tosses confetti* And thank you. :)