#venting on main??? in this economy???

[outer-andromeda]

You ever kind of just sit around like

You know?

[voxofthevoid]

I enjoy reading your opinions and rants about how fandom evolution, the repackaging of purity culture, and the social media landscape has created some questionable and awful behaviors amongst readers.

Maybe it's because I'm a newish(?) follower, but I haven't seen many posts of how the same factors affect fandom authors. (This isn't targeted towards you, but more so general fandom spaces, so to speak). I respect your opinion, so I'll just ask.

1. What behaviors that you see other fandom writers do that gets under your skin? 2. Any thoughts on the social-mediafiction on fanfiction culture as whole? I would appreciate your thoughts on this.

Thanks in advance, Vox!

I'm glad you enjoy my ramblings ❤

I don't tend to get into these discussions often, mostly because of a lack of time and energy, but sometimes, some post or event really gets me going—and they come in clusters a lot of the time. I have talked a bit about author behaviors too, but I think most of those posts are quite old—as in, pre-pandemic for the most part, with a few scattered across the last two years or so. They were largely related to bigger discussions on other, fandom-focused blogs I follow.

Re your questions, I can answer them as one because people treating fanfic sites, especially Ao3, like social media and/or hustle culture is my main pet peeve with fic authors.

At the center of it is monetization. That grinds my gears like nothing else. I'm not talking about authors having a tip jar on their blog or someone in a desperate situation taking commissions. But there's this increasing tendency to turn writing fic into a career, not by shifting to original fiction but by monetizing fic itself, and I view that as being fundamentally antithetical to fandom culture. Online fandom is a gift economy—a free exchange of passion, to put a pretty spin on it. That's both one of its defining features and most appealing aspects. There's no barrier to entry, aside from possessing a functional internet connection. Your age, geographical location, financial status, or any such factor doesn't affect whether or not you can participate in fandom, as a reader or a writer (or an artist in general, save for money-intensive stuff like cosplay). Monetization puts a rather sizeable wrench in that, especially when it comes to practices like posting a few chapters for free and putting the rest on Patreon.

Also, frankly, money changes things. All those issues I've talked about regarding entitlement and purity culture will be compounded when there are financial incentives to writing and posting fanfiction. You already have people who think fic writers exist to cater to them personally; now, imagine how people like that would act toward someone they've given money to, whether it's a systematic plan like Patreon or something more voluntary like tipping. Yes, the majority of people who pay writers aren't like this, just like the majority of fic readers in general are lovely people. But we've all also seen the damage that small toxic minority can do. Similar principles apply in relation to purity culture. People are already shit-scared of writing "problematic" topics because there might be witch hunts and doxxing; if they become reliant on fandom as a source of income, creativity will be further stifled (and sanity will probably go further downhill, let's be real). This is already an issue with original publishing, and I'm only in the periphery of those discussions.

Clout-chasing and comparison are two another issues that already exist in fandom and will be worsened when money's in the equation. Venture into r/Ao3 or r/Fanfiction, or any such space for discussing and venting about fandom and especially fics, and you'll find no shortage of people who are angry, sad, discouraged, disillusioned, or otherwise upset about getting less engagement than others in the fandom. To be clear, I'm not denigrating anyone for being sad about posting into the void in general; I'm talking specifically about the disappointment and jealousy arising from comparison. If "I only got X kudos even though Author A got XX kudos for posting the same trope" becomes "I only got X dollars even though Author A got XX dollars for posting the same trope," I'm going to yeet myself into the sun.

And this is the tip of the iceberg. I'm brushing very briefly (hah) on the impact growing monetization can have (and is having) on fandom's social dynamics alone. The legal grey area is a whole other beast. The ethics can be a debate of its own. The specific matter of people posting Patreon and Ko-fi links on Ao3—a volunteer-run, fan-funded platform that explicitly disallows monetization for both legal and social reasons—and then whining when they get penalized could be its own essay. I've seen motherfuckers straight-up argue that Ao3 is taking away their right to profit from their labor.

Seriously, I could talk about this forever. I have bouncing thoughts on specific aspects, from the proliferation of for-profit digital zines to the treatment of one's fic readers as future book buyers, but this post is already too long. I also have pet peeves regarding author behaviors unconnected to monetization, though those are also mostly related to clout-chasing and competitiveness and other nonsense that treats being a fic writer as akin to being an #influencer. Plus, there's no clean split between authors and readers in fandom, so a lot of the stuff I've said about readers being dicks generally arises from fellow writers.

Okay, shutting up now 🤐

TL;DR: Treating fandom like social media or a source of income is a bad idea. Don't do that.

[y2klostandfound]

How to win - Jet Set Radio Future on Game Players New magazine Vol.29 (Video game magazine)(Hong Kong)(2002)(06/03/2002)(Part 1)

Translation in English:

XBOX

2002

On sale

ACT - SEGA

6,800 Yen - 1-4 players

Corresponding to 5-1ch audio equipment

Attention!

This game is only suitable for and anyone who may imitate or reference the in-game characters should also avoid touching this game as much as possible. If anyone engages in similar behavior after reading this article, I or the publication will not be held responsible, please pay attention!

JET SET RADIO FUTURE

Hello everyone! I am a DJ PROFESSOR K, the embodiment of beauty and wisdom, and a heroic companion!! Do you feel that life is boring? Looking for something fun to do? Come on! Listen to my Tokyo underground radio station! ! Don't forget the name, yes! ! It's "JET SET RADIO"! ! YEEEEEEEE~~~~HAAAAAA! ! !

Let's start with an introduction to the current situation! Tokyo is now dominated by Gouji Rokkaku , whose "Rokkaku Group" is more powerful than the local government, and no matter what level it is, such as real estate, society, culture or entertainment, it is also controlled by them, and the people have no freedom of choice at all, day after day, month after month, they live according to the meaning of the Rokkaku, without a soul and without their own selves. Recently, Rokkaku succeeded in becoming the mayor, which completely fell to the hands of Rokkaku in Tokyo, even the law can be changed by him at will, of course, the police are not spared, and they have become Rokkaku's Corps and they are fighting against those who are against him, OH MY GOD!

However, where there is darkness, there is light, and a group of young people who are passionate about life are determined to vent their inner grievances with graffiti and to awaken the sleeping people with crazy actions. But there was one thing that surprised them, When it happened, it turned out that "Rokkaku Expo Stadium" was in full swing, and the surrounding vigilance was also strengthened a lot, which made the struggle between these young people and the Rokkaku Group heated up. Although the enemy is a group with great power, fortunately, many capable people have joined in the process of protest, which has ignited new hope for this group of young people. And this class of ideal Stormy Teenagers, they call themselves "GG"! !

Members of GG

CORN

The person who already existed when GG was founded is now GG's leader, very competitive, and often considers himself a genius.

GUM

She is another main member of GG, is responsible for the operation of the organization together with CONE (CORN), she is so calm that the men who have a crush on her automatically give up after ten minutes.

YOYO

The new member of the GG, the typical storm boy, is arrogant and often calls himself a cannon king.

BEAT

The mysterious boy who appeared on the streets of Tokyo, since his appearance, things have changed rapidly.

ROBOY

The robot that CONE(CORN) retrieves, everything else is unknown, only known to be as arrogant as CONE(CORN).

ROKKAKU GROUP

Rokkaku Police

The front-line personnel of the Rokkaku Group, everything that will hinder the people and things of the Rokkaku Group is also their goal.

HASHED (HAYASHI)

The police commander of the Rokkaku Police Force, Division 0 is a very troublesome policeman. If he is targeted by him, he will never have a good life.

Gouji Rokkaku

The chairman of the Rokkaku Group, who dominates Tokyo's economy and culture, is a very authoritarian careerist.

Getting Started

Controller

Buttons MENU In-game

Left Stick Select Walk/Run

Right Stick -- Look around (while standing)/Map

rotation (in PAUSE)

Arrow keys Select --

A button Decide Jump/Decide

B button Cancel Accelerate/Use props during battle

X button -- Continuous TRICK/HANDPLANT

Y button -- Continuous TRICK/TURN

START button Decide PAUSE on

BACK button Cancel Cancel

Left button -- The camera direction is corrected

to the front

Right button -- Spray GRAFFITI/ Dialogue unfolds

Various Actions Basics

Walk/Run

Left STICK is to control the character's movement. After inputting a few directions, the character will make a sprint start and then move forward at an even speed.

Jump

The A button is for jumping, The distance and height depend on the time of pressing the button, if you press it for a long time, you will jump higher, different characters will have more or less jumping power.

Turn

On the way to several directions, press the Y button to make the character turn his back foward and make a backward movement.

Dialogue

Some characters can have a dialogue with the player, as long as you approach the player, the dialogue icon will appear, and you can press the right button

Accelerate

Each time you use it, you need to consume 10 cans of spray paint, press the B button to use it, and you don't need to use it while jumping.

Camera Correction

During the game, the camera will turn with the character's movement, press the left button to correct it to look straight ahead.

TIC Tips

When fighting against the enemy or Rival, the left button can be used to lock the target. When the opponent is in front and the CURSOR is yellow, press the left button, and the CURSOR will turn red. At this time, press the B button to accelerate, and there is a chance to make a straight line to recover the gap, but it still needs 10 cans of spray paint.

TRICK

GRIND

Basically all handrails or fences can also do this action, just walk close to the above facilities, press the A button to jump, the character will automatically slide on the handrail or fence, and is not limited by the slope, even if it's vertical.

AIR

Using speed or an inclined platform, you can jump higher than normal, and the movements you make while flying are classified as AIR.

WALLRIDE

Specific walls (such as advertising boards) allow players to slide on them, and they are not limited by the slope, as long as the character touches the wall, and the speed is faster than that on the ground.

HANDPLANT

In some "U" shaped terrain, it is possible for the character to make this action, and when the character is about to reach the edge of the item, press the X button to make an upside down posture, which has the effect of accelerating.

COMBINATION

GRIND COMBINATION

On the railing-shaped terrain, it is possible to make GRIND movements, but in fact, combined actions can also be added to GRIND movements. And the method is simple, just press the X and Y buttons, and press continuously to make a series of actions to increase the score, as for what the use of the extra score is, I will introduce it to you later.

AIR COMBINATION

AIR COMBINATION is almost the same as GRIND, as long as you enter X and Y in the air state, the character will make fancy.

Spray Painting Tips

In the game map, there will be a rotating round plan (GRAFFITI POINT) on the wall, which represents a place that needs to be painted, the player has to make the character approach and then press the right button to spray the pattern. Each GRAFFITI POINT needs to consume a can of spray paint, but one thing to note is that pressing the right button anywhere will also consume a can of spray paint.

Continuous spraying

If there are more than one GRAFFITI POINT side by side on the wall, it means that the spray painting is of a larger size. Players can start from the first pattern and press the right button until the last one.

The type of spray painting

There are five sizes of spray painting in the game, namely SS, S, M, L, and XL.

NEW GAME

After selecting NEW GAME, you will start the main game mode for one person only and in order to spray GG's spray paint all over Tokyo, the player must travel through all the different areas and solve the obstacles in front of you. The game consists of two main parts, "STREET" and "GARAGE PARK", which will be introduced in detail below.

STREET

Based on Tokyo, each "STREET" can be regarded as a level, and certain conditions must be completed before moving on to the next one. As for the conditions, it is different each time, the player can ask other team members at Garage Park or listen to JSR'S DJ PROFESSOR K for information. But there is one thing common to all STREETs, that is, all spray painting must be completed. Another thing that we must mention is that each STREET will have certain hidden things that will not be provided with intelligence, how to find out, you have to look at your skills.

GARAGE PARK

The base camp of GG, all team members will also gather here, players can freely practice here, and listen to the ADVICE of teammates. In addition, if you talk to ROBOY, you can enter the GARAGE MENU screen, which has functions such as game setting change, SAVE, custom spraying, basic skill training, and character rotation in use. And every time you finish a street, you have to come back here once, so GARAGE PARK is definiteky an important place.

GG Handbook

In the GG Handbook, you can clearly understand the "STREET MISSION" of each version, so what is STREET MISSION?

In fact, these are the conditions for the appearance of the hidden "GRAFFITI SOUL" and every time you complete a STREET MISSION, a GRAFFITI SOUL will appear. GRAFFITI SOUL is an optional spray pattern that can be viewed and selected in the GARAGE MENU after obtaining it. However, in order to make STREET MISSION appear, you must first find and get the "MYSTERY TAPE" in this section, then the STREET MISSION can be found in the GG Handbook.

PAUSE Screen Diagram

1.Instruction - Indicates the condition or goal that is currently a priority.

2.The street where you are - Displays the name of the street where the player is currently located.

3.GRAFFITI SOUL/ GRAFFIT in the map -

Top:The number of GRAFFITI SOULS acquired in the same layout.

Bottom: The number of GRAFFITI completed in the same layout, calculated in GRAFFITI POINT.

4.Number of GRAFFITI SOUL - Number of GRAFFITI SOUL acquired.

5.The Direction of the PLAYER - The arrow represents the front of the player.

6.ICON-

CHARACTER CHANGE: Available only at GRAFFITI STOP.

SAVE:Available only at GRAFFITI STOP.

GG Handbook: The conditions in each map and the content of "Mystery TAPE".

Back to the game

Game Screen Explanation

MAIN GAME Screen

The usual game screen, STREET is the same as GARAGE PARK.

1.STAMINA GAUGE - After receiving damage, it will be reduced, and when it is reduced to zero, it will be game over.

2. Number of spray paint cans - It can be collected on the street, and you must have spray paint before you can spray paint.

3.Number of GRAFFITI - The number of paintings on the same layout, the number completed is on the left, and the total number is on the right.

4.GRAFFITI POINT - You must have this logo to spray paint on the wall.

5.SPEED METER - Indicates the current speed of the character.

Use continuous TRICK!

When using continuous TRICK, additional points will appear on the upper left of the screen. The more consecutive TRICKs you perform, the higher your score will be. When you reach a certain level of score, there will be "prizes". Let's work hard! !

BATTLE screen

There is a slight difference between BATTLE and MAIN GAME game modes, so the screen representations are different.

1.TIME - An item that will appear in RACE MODE, which will give the player a better understanding of the current situation when racing with RIVAL.

2.CURSOR - Whether it is BATTLE with the enemy or a RIVAL, CURSOR will also appear. When you approach the opponent, CURSOR will appear on the opponent.Press the left button at this time, and the CURSOR will turn red, indicating that the person has locked the target.

PAUSE screen

Press the START button during the game to enter the PAUSE screen, which is a decisive help for playing the game. You can also enter this screen when you are in BATTLE. Press the left and right buttons to switch map mode and view the entire map. In addition, the "GG Handbook" can also be viewed on this screen.

Continue to Part 2

[todarknessitfalls]

Wait, a pinned post?? In this economy??

"Go on, make my day, go get high, on my mistakes."

Hi! I’m Antagonist/Kris/Nikolai, a certified crazy person silly goober.

I also go by Jack or Mercutio, but ask before using those names for me + nicknames. Jack and Mercutio is only for friends, and Tio as a nickname is only for very close friends

Artist page (Basic info) ->-> Meet the Artist!

My lovely boyfriend is @thund3randrain <3

Head over heels for my QPP @the-fallen-collective <3

I am unwell over many many things such as Palaye Royale, FNAF, BSD, Laceygames and unfortunately many many more

"Daydreaming of my funeral, like who would go, bet no one would show"

Currently obssessing over: FNAF + Afton Family Lore (specifically william afton) Palaye Royale The Amazing Digital Circus BSD Bendy and The Dark Revival + Bendy and The Ink Machine (blue is the biggest hyperfixations currently)

He/It/Void/Gore/Confetti/Pop/Doll/Lace. No They/Them (unless we're close) or She/Her please!!

"This is goodbye, you've bled me dry."

18+ users can interact and DM as long as you aren’t icky and comfy with the fact that i am a minor :3

DNIs: - Bad people in general - General DNIs (homophobes, transphobes, misogyonists, etc etc) - Radqueers - Pro-contact - Zoophiles, Pedophiles, etc etc - [Pro] Endogenic systems - Anti-recovery blogs (for EDs, S/H, anything) - NSFW + smut blogs - MDNI blogs - Anti-alterhumanity

"Same me, same you! Until the drugs start doing you~"

for our system blog see @a-void-of-a-system , there’s a personal blog list there. mostly the host (kris) will be posting here!!

I try to use tonetags, also please use tonetags with me!! It helps a lot :3

Please ask before touch!!

I mod too many RP blogs to count- I'll make a masterlist one day.

"I'm sorry mom I've got to go, I've dug this grave I call my home."

Interests -

FNAF + Afton Family

Super Mario Bros. (Basically every mario thing ever)

Bungou Stray Dogs

Laceygames

Classical literature

Drawing (i do take requests!! might be a bit slow though-)

Writing (both fanficition and original stories!!)

Saiki K

Assassination Classroom

"Unfaithful night, housewife she can smell the perfume"

common tags used on this blog:

#antagonist reblogs - i reblog random shit!! won’t always remember to tag though T^T

#antagonist rambles - my incessant yapping!!

#antagonist shitposts - i shitpost lol

#antagonist stims - self explanatory

#antagonist doodles - my drawings!!

#antagonist wrote something - my fics!!

#antagonist yaps with friends - me chats with my friends!!

#antagonist used a braincell - my thoughts. could be anything from shitposts to philosophy to maths!!

#antagonist vents - my vents, always check and block the tags pls!!

#antagonist is tired. - i am so so tired.

#antagonist laceyposts - what it says on the tin. i laceypost!

#antagonist is william afton - william afton posting

#man i love michael afton - michael afton posting

#my love <3 - i ramble about my beautiful wonderful boyfriend

#meri jaan <3 - i ramble about my fantastic beautiful partner

#antagonist roleplays - me just being a silly little guy with RP blogs on my main ^^

#antagonist raises the sun - i say good morning !

#antagonist travels to eep land - i say good night !

"Poor me, poor you, maybe one more drink or two Big dreams, small shoes, got nothing else left to lose"

uhm i think that’s it!! just be patient with me if i’m taking time to answer asks or requests, i get overwhelmed easily, and don’t take it personally ^^

all my moots ily and everyone else have a great time in my little corner of insanity!!

[duffyyy911]

𝙰 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔: 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 2 - 𝙰 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗

Summary: The detective makes quick work of following up on the shimmer lead. After an encounter with an autoshop chem dealer, the detective makes their way back to their boss. As they meet up and relay the information, they begin to realize that they have a hard time actually connecting with their employer.

Content Warnings: Mild violence. Mentions of tobacco and alcohol. Mentions of (fictional) hard drugs.

Word Count: 9.2k

Author's Notes: Chapter two woo!!!! I loved writing this chapter, although it does feel a lot slower paced than my initial one. Which might be a good or bad sign? I felt like there needed to be more dialogue, especially cause the next chapter may be a bit shorter on it. Ty for reading!!!!

Proofread by: @madschiavelique @6selkie

Masterlist: Here

The levels up near the pump stations were deafening. The loud cranking and droning of engines churning away to push gargantuan fan blades spinning within the massive vents of the fissures were almost deafening. The rich, sickly stench of diesel and lurid carbon oxides funneling through exhaust ports and feeding into the air turned your stomach ill. It dirtied your lungs and stung your nose and eyes, a barrage of putrid senses hitting you all at once. The Promenade level of the underground was usually one of the more breathable areas, but over here? You practically had to wear a hazmat suit if you would linger for more than an hour. You had always heard stories of pump workers dying young. How years of prolonged exposure would develop cancers in their lungs, redness in their nose, and deep black marks under their eyes. You had walked past too many funerals of young families mourning fathers, mothers, husbands, and wives, all taken by the treachery of such labor. You always told yourself it was better for just a handful of unlucky few to die from diesel exposure than entire cultures in the sump being wiped out due to the Gray. It had to be this way, it was just how life underground struggled. Piltover used to house the pump stations above ground, in large warehouse buildings with real regulations and standards. Genuine pay and affordable insurance. But the council had shut them down years ago, declaring that they were too much of a drain on the city’s economy. How they barely kept afloat with such a low employee count, and how all it did was invite the unwanteds of the underground up into their glorious city to spread some vague idea of crime and injustice. And so the pump stations were moved underground, far away from the prying gaze of a council of billionaires who thought themselves kings. You knew it was all an excuse, however. It was just a way to keep the ugly things away from the eyes of the citizens of Piltover. Nobody could afford to have sympathy, not down here or up top.

You rounded the corner to Leftpoint Street. It was more like a backstreet than an actual extension to any of the main gangways in the fissures. You had climbed a few levels of the juttings in the earth, crossing tottering rope bridges and ramshackle overpasses that bridged the gap of the left fissure. The iron shack buildings of the underground reached up and across the ravine, clinging onto the edge of the rock like a bundle of baby raccoons would leech onto their mother's back. It was the only way to expand down here. If you couldn’t keep building out, you just built up. And Zaun never stopped building up. The hope above the city drove people to keep climbing, that maybe one day they’d be able to leave the hell they were born in. 

You ambled past a straight and narrow lane of aggregate sandcrete huts sandwiched together shoulder to shoulder in the narrow offshoot of the fissure. They were a linked chain of the most basic of structures, squarish with undetailed walls and large open passageways that were modified by each owner of the divisions. You passed by a cheap junkshop with its large gated door open to the stuffy draft, airing out wheelbarrows and trolleys full of interesting but mostly useless parts stripped from the down-and-out machines in the sump. Driveshafts, brass piping, and strips of aluminum plating jutted out from rusted barrels, advertising a sense of uselessness that the store brought. 

You looked back behind you, checking if Lyric was still trailing you. He skipped along behind you, absentmindedly humming one of the sailing tunes he learned from listening to you. He’d stop once in a while to pull the lid off a trashcan and root around the first layer of garbage in a childish hope he’d catch a good find before returning the lid and catching up to you. He was a good kid, really, just one that was molded for this kind of living. He always held a youthful hope of optimism that collided with the jaded realization of his destitute life. Yet he pushed ever on, following after you like he always did. Like you knew what you were doing or where the hell you even were headed. You looked back to the lane in front of you, watching your step carefully as you put one boot in front of the other as you kept your coat close to you and your hands glued into your pockets.

You look past the row of junk and down the aisle of the storefronts, spotting the barred windowed front of the liquor store you had mentioned to Lest. One of the more sketchier places, but you couldn’t blame them for keeping it safe in such a lawless state. And that meant before it was the garage to the Motorruners. You passed by a shining neon sign hanging to the cinder blocks by a closed metal garage door. You paused before it to read the words ‘Chopshop’ spelled out in cursive. You pause, staring at the neon absentmindedly as you struggled against the growing ill feeling in your stomach. The stench of the diesel was beginning to fight with your already existing hangover for who could make your brain hurt more, and you weren’t sure who was winning. Your mind lingered for a moment, drifting to a better thought and a distraction. The savory smell of sea salt, a low hush of water trailing up to the sands of a beach before being ripped back by the tide. The honking of seagulls trailing over your head, looking for a meal. You weren’t sure if you were just wishing you were somewhere else, or that the fumes were starting to make you hallucinate. But you just stared in silence at the glow of the neon, which was beginning to burn its image into your retinas. You were snapped out of the funk by the slapping of Lyric’s hobbled shoes against the pavement as he finally caught up with you after a short stint of digging through the junk barrels of the shop you passed before.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, looking up to you with wide eyes and a never fading subtle smile. He subconsciously tried to stick his hands in his pockets to mimic your posture, but he rapidly blinked and looked down as he remembered that his coat had no pockets anymore.

“Have you ever seen a seagull, Lyric?” You murmured out as your eyes stayed glued to the neon.

“No.” Lyric chirped back, returning his attention back to you standing above him. “Is it an animal?”

“Right.” You sighed. You forgot that not everyone in Zaun knows what certain things are above ground. Even in the slums on the surface, not many people would know what a Seagull was. They had been overly poached years ago and now refused to return to the harborside. Sometimes you could see them circle above the ocean in the distance beyond the river, even going off towards Piltover to settle. But never on your side. Never even getting close. “They’re a bird.” You exhaled heavily, then finally peeled your eyes from the neon and down to Lyric. “White with a little yellow beak and gray wings. They never shut up and like to steal your food.” You give Lyric an uneasy but cheeky smile.

“You’re going to tell me I’m like a seagull, aren’t you?” Lyric frowned with a pout.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, returning to the neon as the outline of its letters stuck to your sight no matter where you turned your eyes. “Maybe-” You paused. “Have you ever been to sea, Lyric?”

“Like on a boat? No, not really.” Lyric contemplated the question, then perked up as he remembered something. “I once built a raft! But it sank before it made it past the pipes.” His expression faded to disappointment with a stir in his eyes. He was referring to the massive drainage pipes that fed out to the river in the harbor. It was best that it sank, because it would have been about a twenty foot drop into the icy river waters for him.

“Not a boat, Lyric.” You chuckled. “A ship. You call it a ship.”

“What’s the difference? Boat, ship. It all floats.”

“A boat is something you just ride in. Like a dingy or your raft. A ship? A ship is a beautiful thing. You can only steer her, not command her. No paddling or kicking can move her. You’re the one being taken for the ride, not the other way around.”

“Why’s a ship gotta be a her? Why can’t the ship be a boy?”

“I dunno.” You shrugged. “The guy who invented ships was a freak, I guess.”

“Who invented the ship?”

“Hell if I know.” You laughed. “John Ship.”

“John Ship is a bad name.” Lyric muttered as he joined your intent staring into the shine of the neon.

“Listen, kid.” You turned away from the sign for a final time. You knelt down, putting your hand around on Lyric’s shoulder as his eyes drifted from looking up to the wall to meet yours. “I know I said you could help, but-” You freeze on your sentence. You watched the twinkle in his eye, the way he would look at you with wonder and aspiration with a smile on his lips. You didn’t want to stomp on the kid’s dreams, you really didn’t. But this wasn’t his life, it was yours. And it would be wrong for you to let him follow you like he did. “I need you to keep watch on the corner.” You pointed over his shoulder and down to the end of the street.

“What? I thought I was coming with you.”

“This is gang territory, kid.” You sighed. “I need someone to make sure I’m not about to be snuck up on, and that’s you.”

“Okay.” Lyric nodded. You weren’t sure if he accepted the job in earnest or if he knew you were making him stick this one out.

“But if anything happens, you run. Okay?” You stick a finger into his collarbone sternly. The last thing you needed was for him to dive in after you if things went south. “You run and you don’t look back. Go find someone to tell them what happened, but you don’t get caught.”

“Got it, boss.” Lyric nodded, giving you a quick salute as if you were his commanding officer. You turned him about and away from you, giving him a gentle push as he began walking down the street to the corner.

You slowly rose to your feet as you watched him shrink away in the distance, far enough to where he couldn’t hear you. You turned back to the wall, drawing your attention to the closed metal garage door next to the neon sign. You stuck your hand back in your pocket and pulled out the cigarette butt you had swiped. “Wickrams” You muttered under your breath, then returned it to your pocket. You rapped your knuckles against the thin metal of the door, shaking its loose segments as it wiggled. You could hear the sound of movement from beyond the wall, the scooting of a chair and the shuffling of loose fitting shoes against the floor. The garage door lifted up with a shrill shrug, rising far enough up and just above your head. You came face to face with the stranger on the other side. He had to be in his early twenties, young but not small. He was rather tall, actually, nearing six feet in height. He was lean, boney more like it, like a lanky twig as his thin arms clung to the chain hoists by the wall on the other side. He wore a blue jumpsuit, void of marking or insignia but with a few pockets on the chest. His blue eyes stared at you in confusion from behind a messy chin-length dirty blonde hair and thick lensed square framed glasses. 

“Who the hell are you?” He murmured as he clung to the chains, holding the door open.

“The person who’s here to collect the kickup.” You fibbed. It was the first thing you could think of besides the truth, he would have just shut the door if you told him you were an investigator.

“To who?”

“To Silco.” You warned him, keeping a blank and empty expression on your face but furrowed brows to show you weren’t the type for patience. You didn’t even know if the chopshop doled out protection money to the barrons, but it was the best lie you could come up with and you were prepared to roll with whatever answer he gave.

“Silco’s dead, buddy.” A twist overcame his face. You had to talk faster.

“His death…” You paused, staring into the space in front of you. “Was highly overexaggerated. He wants his money, and you’re all late on it.”

“I mean-” The man paused, mulling it over. He might actually believe you, there was a nervous twitch in his eye as he thought. “Look, Daz isn’t here, can you come back later for it?”

“Later?” You scoffed. “No, you’re going to give me the money right fucking now. Who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, man!” He almost squealed, gritting his teeth like a Capuchin monkey. You were starting to get to him, the benefits of your witt for bullshitting. “Fine. Just come in, I can’t keep this open all day.”

You stepped under the garage door, bending your head down as you passed under. The man slowly released his grip on the chain, letting the door rattle as it sank back down to the ground. The inside of the workshop was somewhere between a total mess and a scene like a tornado had just passed through. Dim blue safelights were strung up around the top corners of the square workshop in linked patterns, providing a low but visible light to the room. You paced about a bit, looking at the state of the shop. A disassembled engine lay scattered by the left wall, its pieces sitting across the floor. Scraped together gang insignia crafter out of sheet metal and junk scrap hung from the barren walls, like art pieces in a gallery. Below one of the larger ones, a huge object sat covered in a heavy tarp. In the center of the room was a tall square wood table, on it a multitude of things. A dusty motherboard laying next to a few hand tools, a stack of wide papers with sketches of blueprints. A steam gauge lay across the front of the table, half taken apart. A spool of metal chicken wire sat next to some cut up pieces of copper piping. The back door to the shop had a foggy window, looking out into a dark hallway that could have led anywhere. Across from the door, tucked into the corner of the room, a large console computing machine buzzed away with blinking lights and unflipped switches. Metal tool cabinets lined the right side of the wall next to a few thinner worktables.

“Why is it so dark in here?” You asked as you looked about.

“Gotta keep it dark, man. Too much light is bad for your eyes down here, you know that.” The man ambled from the chains and leaned against one of the worktables near the cabinets. “So…” He trailed nervously. “How much is it this time?”

“How much?” You hummed as you looked about. “Because of recent events, we’re going to go easy on all of you for the time being. Four hundred, I’d say.”

“Four hundred?” The man spluttered. “You call that easy?”

You turned back to the man, flaring your eyes in a menacing manner. “Do I need to remind you who exactly you’re paying for protection from?” You approached him with a heavy step, getting in his boney face.

“No!” He put his hands up. “No, man. Here.” He reached into the inside of his jumpsuit and brought out a wad of bills. He counted out four hundred, then passed it to you.

You took the money and slipped it under your jacket's lapel with the rest, not bothering to count it either. “Give me a cigarette.” You commanded him.

“You can’t smoke in here.”

“Either I smoke a cigarette, or I smoke you.” You warned him. “Give. Me. A cig.”

The man sighed, then reached back into his jumpsuit and took out a packet of cigarettes. The box was red and white, labeled with the brand Wickrams. You found your mark. He took out one of the cigarettes, then passed it to you.

“Where’s Aquil?” You hummed, putting the cigarette in your mouth. The man paused, a pale flushing over his face as you motioned for him to give you a lighter.

“I’m Aquil.” He stated steadily, and reached back into his jumpsuit for a third and final time. As he did, you noticed the state of his wrist. Or the lack therefore of. It was a bit crooked, and darker in tone, but it didn’t look broken from the way he was passing you things. He passed you a thin flip lighter and you took a moment to light your cigarette, then you pocketed it.

“That’s a lie.” You chuckled snarkily. “I was told Aquil had a bum hand. Yours looks fine.”

“It got better.” Aquil stated with a low, uneasy hum, trying to break eyesight with you. He had an unsteady shake in his legs, a jitter on his fingers. Either he really believed you were one of Silco’s lackies. Or he knew you were there for him.

“Better?” You gave him a deep, sick smile. Like you were a kid playing with a bug and you were about to pull off all his limbs one by one. “Because of that shimmer you stole last night?”

“I-” He paused, looking around. His hand gripped the lip of the worktable with an incredible tenseness. His reddened eyes snapped to you, then the door, then back to you. Then, he took off. He was going straight for the door, and you didn’t waste time reaching forward and ripping him back by the scruff of his jumpsuit. You pulled him back and threw him to the sleek concrete floor in one motion. He fell before the table at the center of the room, ventilating with a wild tempo.

“What did you do with the rest? Or did you take all of it? You fuckin’ junkie.” You towered above Aquil as he scrambled on the floor. He sat up and reached his good hand up to the loose pieces of pipe next to the blueprints. You grabbed his hand at the wrist and twisted it, flipping him over and onto his stomach as you pressed it into his back. “Do you want two bummed wrists?” You threatened him.

“Come on, man!” Aquil screamed in pain breathily. “I knew you were an enforcer, I knew it!” He wriggled under your grip in a vain attempt to escape.

“Puh-lease.” You scoffed. “Enforcers don’t knock first, dumbass.” You reached up to the table before you, taking the spool of wire and unraveling some. You pinned both his hands behind his back, then twisted the stiff wire around them. It wasn’t great, but it would work for the time being, he seemed all too weak to actually do anything you couldn’t see coming. You sat him up, leaning him against the leg of the table as you pressed your boot into the flesh of his right thigh.

“You already took my money, what else do you want, man? That’s enough to cover it twice!” Aquil begged with labored breath, his glasses slowly slinking down his face before falling against the concrete with a tap. How the hell was this kid part of a gang, you asked yourself? He looked like he could barely run for more than a minute, half starved and frail.

“I want to know why.” You barked. “I get it. Easy mark, right?” You pressed your foot harder against Aquil’s leg, causing him to scream out in pain again. He really was as frail as he looked, you were expecting a way harder time with this.

“I didn’t even do it, man! I was just there, they made me tell them where to get some easy chems that weren’t being tracked. I was coerced, you have to believe me.”

“Coerced people don’t have the liberty to smoke in the middle of a crime.” You took your cigarette from your mouth and gave it a flick, watching the ash drift to the floor. “You were an accomplice. And that means there were others. Who.”

“I don’t know their names, they work for somebody else. I don’t know who that is either, please.”

“Okay.” You relent. Ruffing a dumb kid up was one thing, he deserved it for the stunt he pulled. But you weren’t about to torture the poor sod. You had limits, and they were about to be reached. “Better question is why.”

“The blueprints.” Aquil panted out, squeezing his eyes shut from the pain of your foot on his leg. “On the table, up there.” He scooted up further against the leg of the table, scooting it across the floor by an inch.

You took one of the pages from the pile, opening it up and bringing before the blue wall lights behind you. The designs were sketchy, and the handwriting was absolutely atrocious, but the intent was clear. It was a drawing of some kind of tank, wide and bulky. Kind of like a moonshine still. The plans detailed what was needed and how to assemble it, though you couldn’t read the bad handwriting as to what the pieces were. You went to put back the page, but noticed a strange object had been hiding behind the stack, one that you didn’t see when walking into the room. It was a vial, cylindrical in form and ended with two twist locks. The liquid in it was fizzy and yellow-ish green, glowing dimly in the low light. You picked it up, inspecting it carefully. You had no clue what it was, but you knew it was a chem of sorts. Was this what the machine was for? A refiner, maybe. To create something new.

“What’s this, then?” You showed Aquil the vial, then pocketed it. You had to hang onto your only piece of evidence.

“Don’t touch that man, it’s dangerous.” Aquil pleaded, still struggling beneath your boot.

“Why? Is this why you took the shimmer? Your little gang trying to cut into the chem market?” You took the cigarette out of your mouth and stamped it out on the ground.

“Not us man, I swear!” Aquil sucked his teeth as you lifted your boot off his leg, probably expecting a kick to the mouth that never came. “It’s for some kind of project. I wasn’t told about it, just how to build a part of it.” He stammered out.

“Why?” You asked firmly.

“I don’t know! Just someone working for one of the barrons, I think! Two guys came to me with the plans. One of them came with me to take the shimmer, he’s the one who broke in, not me! I’m telling you!”

“Is that what’s under the tarp, then?” You nodded to the covered object. “Are you bringing this… Refiner to them?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a piece of the whole operation. I can’t say for certain, but I think they’re having other shops make the rest. The way the prints are, it looks like it connects to something way bigger.”

“Where are you taking it?”

“Some old factory in the sump, it used to make lightbulbs or something. I don’t know, man!” Aquil pleaded again. Your showmanship earlier had really rattled the kid, and you were starting to feel bad now. But you couldn’t let up, not yet. You needed to see where all of this was going. “The meeting is tonight, I gotta be there at midnight.”

“I know the place.” You fibbed. “You wanna know what you’re going to do now, Aquil?” You squatted before him.

“What?” He meeped out.

You grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks together until his lips came to a pucker. His frayed blue eyes looked at you beyond the muscle bulging up in his cheeks as you squeezed his face. “You’re going to continue doing what you were told to. And if you ever get the idea to tell anybody that I was here, or I know what’s going on. Or you get the dumb idea not to show up at the right time, or not show up at all? I’ll know. And I’ll be back.”

“Okay..” Aquil managed to say with a muffle, nodding his head slowly against the firmness of your hand.

“Atta boy.” You let his face go, giving him a congratulatory pat on his shoulder. “I’m going to leave you like this, you can get out on your own.” You walked back to the garage door. You considered taking one of the pages of prints, but you needed him to finish whatever he was working on. You needed to see where this was going. But more importantly, you needed to report back. You were starting to figure that this thing was far bigger than your employer's intention, but even if she didn’t want you following the trail, you’d still go on your own terms.

“What? No, man! Untie me!” Aquil called out to you as you began to tug the chains of the garage. The metal door lifted and raised up with a bit of force, returning the outside light back to the garage.

“Nah.” You laughed, then stepped out and let the chains go. The garage door fell to the ground with a heavy crash, shaking from the force. You rubbed your eyes with a heavy press against the back of your hands, adjusting to the shift in light as you returned to the land of the living. Well, near living. The underground was like a zombie, never decaying but not exactly breathing. You looked back up the street and saw Lyric standing on the corner, looking back and forth as a few people walked past him. You stuck your two index fingers in your mouth and gave a sharp whistle. You waved to Lyric as he spun about, and he took off down the road after you.

“Did you get him?” Lyric asked with a shortness in his breath, coming to a sliding stop before you. A redness flushed his face from the run, but the bright spark in his eyes never faded no matter what he did. To Lyric, your work was all about catching the bad guy and putting things right. Like the plot to a comic book or a radio opera. But the truth of it was that a lot of the time, it was a story about desperate people trying to get by and just wronging others in the way without malice. If this mystery was just about some junkie stealing shimmer to help his arm, it would have ended there. The money Aquil made was sufficing enough to pay back for the damage. But it wasn’t that, there was far more to this that not even the perpetrator of the crime knew. And you had a bad habit for jumping headfirst down rabbit holes that you didn’t belong crawling down.

“Yeah, kid. I got him.” You gave him an uneasy laugh. “These shops are so shoddy that I wonder how much they really pay in rent, it’s a mess in there.” Shit. The rent. You had forgotten all about it after being sucked into this mystery. Your landlord had given you a week, but you knew far too well it was more like a few days. “Come here, kid.” You asked Lyric, and he stepped forward close to you. “You know Mrs. Lowski, my landlord? She lives by the harbor, the house by that playground you like going to.”

“Yeah.” Lyric hummed in thought. “The lady with the missing teeth!”

“That’s rude, Lyric. Don’t say that in front of her.” You sighed. You reached under the lapel of your jacket and took out the envelope of money Lest had paid you. You took the envelope and stuffed it into the pocket of Lyric’s faded jeans, then patted it. “Take this to her, tell her that it’s for the next two month’s rent and that I’m sorry for being late.”

“Got it, boss!” Lyric almost jumped in excitement. His first real job that wasn’t running mail. If you were him, you’d probably be psyched too. “Then what?”

“Then meet me at the Grande Trevale back here on the Promenade level. You know, the big hotel that kind of looks like a crooked finger?”

“Yeah, I know! Old lady’s house, then the hotel. I’ll be back!” Lyric took off without warning, skipping down the street.

“Don’t call her that, Lyric!” You called out to him. “And bring my change back, I’ll know if you took any!” You added, but you weren’t sure if he even heard at the rate he bounded down the road.

The Grande Trevale was a monolith of a hotel that once reached high into the sky, a height that almost matched the peaks of Piltover. It was once a bustling and busy hotel for passerby’s travelling to the other side of the river, back in an age where people even dared to cross it. But in recent decades, it had gone into disrepair. Eventually, a wealthy chem barron by the name of Chross had a large quantity of mining charges rigged to the cavern ceiling below where the hotel stood. In one very complex and very loud string of plans and actions, the entirety of the abandoned hotel had been lowered, slowly but surely, down into the Promenade level of the underground. Once abandoned, the hotel was returned to its luxury by the chem barron and became a staple as one of the more lavish places in Zaun. It stood as tall as it ever had despite the drop, its top floor suites reaching so high that they stayed sticking out from the wide open sinkhole that had been created, and watched ever on over the slums of the uptop like a pretentious guard tower. Because of the rift in the earth, the hotel and its surrounding district had fresh access to the sunlight and rain, making it a prime spot for other money laundering operations for the chem barrons. Despite all this, it still retained an air of safety, collecting in the few that could afford the steep price of living in the district.

Your headache had finally subsided after you walked into the grandiose lobby of the Grande Trevale. You weren’t sure if it was the fresher air or your body was finally accepting that you hadn’t drank any water since yesterday. It had been five hours since you left to begin your investigation, and the midday sun had finally begun to set from over its peak above the rift in the earth and cast a blanket of calming bright rays to illuminate the district. Your boots trudged against the sleek criss cross tiles of the lobby, your head hanging low below the tall heights of the ceiling which hung crystal chandeliers down from thin chains. The lobby was a mix of bright whites and deep blacks, checkerboarded like a game of chess. You ambled past a wide and deep conversation pit sticking out front the side of the grand hall’s pathway, filled with an array of expensive leather sofas and antique low tables before a bougie fireplace that looked like it had never been lit once in the hotel’s history. The place was completely empty save for the few employees you saw wandering about. It was odd, like everyone just decided to stay home today. Your eyes glanced at the lobby desk to your right, a handful of its employees huddled around it as they listened to the intense accounting of a sports match that was being read off by the announcer. You shrugged as you continued walking through the hall, if they weren’t going to stop you and ask you what you were doing, you weren’t about to approach them either. The end of the tall lobby split off into a t-junction. One slender hall to your left leading to what looked like the inside of a lavishly decorated dining room, the right leading to a restaurant bar and another lounge room. You took the right, scraping the bottom of your dirty boots on the floor when the slick tile turned to carpet. You didn’t do well with rich people, or rich places. They usually demeaned you, so you made sure to demean them right back.

The bar lounge was narrow, pressed into the building as it looked out onto a large courtyard behind broad clear windows, freshly cleaned you reckoned by the lack of smudges. You spy a tender stocking up bottles of expensive liquor on shelves on the wall. He wore a black vest over a white buttoned shirt as he worked behind a curved wood bar pressed close to the wall. You approached the bar, pulling back a swivel stool tucked under its lip as you leaned in on the smooth varnish.

“Hey.” You called to the man, who was working in a hurry like he was going to be shot if he hadn’t put up all the bottles in under ten minutes. Knowing the owners of the hotel, he might just be. “Over here.” You called out again when he didn’t turn. He paused, then sighed, and put the bottles back into the crates he was pulling them out of at his feet on the green carpet.

“Do you need something?” He asked in an unamused tone. It was obvious he could tell you didn’t belong here, you didn’t exactly look like the type who could afford to rent a room in a nice place like this.

“Yeah, actually. I’m looking for someone.” You started off. “Have you seen a woman, about yay high with ears about yay higher.” You put up your hand flat and raised it far over your head to mimic the pure size of your employer's feline ears. “White like a blotchy dove, wears clothes that look like they’re from the turn of the century. Has a kind of ‘you’re an idiot’ look on her face?”

“Listen, buddy.” The bartender groaned. “There has only been one person to check in this entire week. So yeah, she’s out in the courtyard.” He turned about to go back to his work.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I want something to drink?”

“Can you afford it?” He snickered under his breath.

“Why yes, I can.” You boasted.

“Fine.” He huffed as he was already bending down to reach for the bottles. He straightened back up, then reluctantly came back to the bar. “What can I get you?” He asked sarcastically.

“Whatever’s cheapest.” You shrugged, smirking.

“Of course.” The tender rolled his eyes, then reached under the bar sill and pulled out a tall wide topped glass. He filled it from one of the shining metal beer taps, then placed it before you as he put a coaster under it. “Try not to spill it on yourself.” He gave you a fake smile. “And that’ll be-”

“Put it on her tab.” You chuckled, then took the glass of beer and walked off towards a set of tall open double doors that lead out to the sunny courtyard.

The courtyard itself was gorgeous. Floored with a scene of crossing orange and red brick patterns, walled with the same tannish hue of the rest of the hotel. At the base of the surrounding wall, running around the entire perimeter, are beds of flowers and other fauna. White dogwood flowers, pinkish purple carpe myrtles, raspberry bushes and red barberis. At the center of the courtyard is a tall trickling fountain, a stack of man made rocks that would filter clear water down and trickle back into the wide pool filled with lilies and other water plants. To the right, beyond the fountain in the corner of the courtyard, a sun faded pergola made from twisted stiff wicker. It stood over a batch of metal chain linked porch tables with uncomfortable looking chairs, shaded from the harsh evening sun. You look up to the sky above you, feeling its warmth. You almost forgot that you were still underground, the way the rays fell down through the rift in the sky and to the courtyard and lit it up in broad daylight. You take a deep breath in, closing your eyes and holding it. You exhale slowly, then look back to the chairs beneath the pergola. You saw her sitting there, Lest. She hadn’t taken one of her big coats, the weather wasn’t right for it. Though she kept her headscarf on, which you found odd. A bit warm, but you couldn’t blame a woman for keeping a motif. You slowly walked up as she faced away from you, attentively keeping to a book held between her fingers in her right hand.

You raise your fingers to the back of her head, mimicking a gun. “Bang.” You mutter, letting your thumb fall. She did not turn from her book, still reading on in silence. “If I was a bad guy, you’d be dead.” You walked around the table and took a seat across from her, placing your drink down on the metal.

“Would I?” She hummed, her eyes reading back and forth down to the book in her lap. “You walk with such a heavy step, a deaf mouse could hear you enter a pantry.”

“Har.” You feign a laugh, looking at your drink, then at some things you just noticed were on the table as well. A small square polaroid camera fitted with a neck strap. Next to the camera was her box of tarot cards you had seen before on her coffee table, reflecting some of the sunlight with a sheen. A vanilla folder, the contents of which you wonder at. And finally a tall glass of some fizzy looking clear liquid which Lest would occasionally pick up and take a sip from before putting it back in its place. “Hello? Earth to you.” You looked at her as she read on, moving a bit in her peripheral to get her to notice. She sighed, then lowered the book and looked at you with an unamused stiffness in her expression.

“You’re drinking already?” She asked calmly, nodding to the beer you had just placed down. “It’s past noon.”

“Past noon’s the best time.” You gave her a fake smile. “Besides, it’s hot out down here without any wind. Just the sun on you, I can’t stand it.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re one to talk.” You looked at her own drink as she picked it up to take another sip.

“It’s tonic water.” She brought her attention back to her book in her hand, continuing reading pensively. “It’s good for you.”

“How?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Malaria or something.”

“Tonic water gives you malaria?!” You leaned in with a fake look of concern and all seriousness in your voice.

Her eyes flicked at you unamusedly from over the top of her book and she gave a sigh at your bad humor. You weren’t sure if she was pretending not to find it funny, or if she found your wit exhausting. In fact she was kind of acting like she didn’t want you there at all, though she was the one paying you for the job.

“I see you brought your cards.” You looked at the box of tarots, your hand reaching out to pull them closer as you thought about opening it. Better not, you weren’t really jazzed about being told off for it. “You wanna read my future, or something?”

“I don’t need to.” She licked her finger, then turned a page over at the corner. “I already know what the future has in store for you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“More of what you’re drinking. More snooping. And more sitting at home wondering where your life went wrong that you had to start doing this kind of work.”

“You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?” You scoff, scooting your chair in. “What’s your deal? Why are you talking to me like this?”

“Sorry.” Lest let up, peering at you from over the top of her book again. She did have a regretful look in her eye, a bit of a frown like she only just queued into the conversation fully. “I just had to send out a lot of letters to clients about rescheduling. A lot of them were not happy when they wrote back. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s alright.” You murmured in thought. You took a deep gulp of your drink and placed it back down on the table, then looked at the book in her hand. “What are you reading?” You asked innocently. The cover was black without a picture. Just the words ‘Red China Pig.’ in a bright scarlet for the title. You remember it vaguely, it was a hit classic written a few years ago about a Zaunite who worked hard enough to accumulate some wealth and make it into Piltover instead of funneling their career straight into the arms of the chem barrons. You hadn’t read it fully, but it was an interesting read.

“Oh, just some drivel.” Lest hummed as she turned another page. “A book about some nobody who did nothing but look up with resentment their whole life. And when they got to the top, all they could do was look down in disgust.” 

“What? Like there’s some kind of scaling in life?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well. Where do we rank?”

“Somewhere in the middle.” Lest shrugged, then dogeared the page and placed the book down on the table. Clearly you were getting somewhere with this kind of conversation.

“How do you figure that?”

“Well, we both make some kind of good money in the private sector. You run your business, I do what I do. It’s a living.”

“I thought my life went so wrong I had to start doing this?” You joke with a stupid smirk, recounting what she told you. There was a brief silence between the two of you, like both of you were too busy thinking to actually continue the conversation. Lest didn’t even go back to her book, the two of you just looked at each other for a while. Not like a game, but a mutual understanding. What either of you were understanding exactly, was beyond you.

“Hey, I’ve got to ask.” Lest finally spoke up, parting her lips with a slight rock in her flimsy chair.

“Shoot.”

“What’s the deal with the kid? The one that followed you. What’s his story?”

“Lyric?” You chuckled. “Ah, he’s harmless. He’s the same as most kids from the fissures. Junkie parents, no school, too much time.” Your smile faded as you thought about it. You did wish more for the kid, you really did. But you had to put one foot in front of you first before taking a step, and you couldn’t do much for him that he couldn’t already do for himself. You made sure he was as independent as he could be, and that he stayed away from home as much as he could.

“Here I thought you were the only child type.” Lest spoke up, catching the worry in your eye. You snap out of your thoughts, looking back at her sitting across from you.

“What?” You responded a bit breathily. “No, Lyric is not my brother. I’m an only child. I mean- As far as I know.” You had been told stories by your parents' old friends who stuck around in the city that your dad was a bit of a casanova back in his day, so you could have siblings somewhere out there. None of which you’d care to meet if they did exist. “What about you?”

“Five brothers, six sisters. Four of which I’ve never met, left home before I was even born. Big family, tiny house. It’s how it usually goes.” Lest recounted with a simper. “They all scattered a while ago, I never kept tabs on where they all ended up. Probably the same for me with them.”

“Damn.” You chuckled, leaning in against the table and folding your hand over the other in a closed fist. “Your parents took ‘be fruitful and multiply’ to heart, huh?”

“Like cells in mitosis.” Lest tittered back softly, then took a sip from her drink. She reached down into a patterned back at the foot of her chair and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, taking a short time in silence to take one out and light it with her iconic scratch lighter. “You want one?” She offered, breathing out the wisps of the first puff. You nodded and she tossed you the pack and lighter from across the table.

“You really like chain smoking, huh?” You commented as you lit yours and passed both back.

“Not usually, but odd times call for odd habits.” Lest shrugged. Another stent of silence fell between you two. It was like a game of red light green light and neither of you knew who was calling the colors. Both of you just smoked your cigarettes, sitting across from each other as the company of your thoughts returned. “So?” Lest spoke up to break the ice again.

“So what?”

“So? What’d you find?”

“Oh.” You blinked. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to get any repeat business from that guy.”

“Goddamnit, detective.” Lest let out a strained sighed, leaning her forehead into the corner of her hand as she rested her elbow against the surface of the table.

“Look.” You took another deep gulp of your drink. “This is starting to get way bigger than either of us really thought. I went to the garage, and it turns out that Aquil guy was accompanied by two other guys when they broke into your house. They stole your shimmer for some kind of…” You paused, trying to articulate what you could remember. “I don’t know. It’s this weird refinery machine. I think it made this, do you know what it is?” You took the vial of the weird yellow liquid out of your coat pocket and handed it across the table.

Lest took it, pinching the ends between her finger and thumb as she brought it up closer to the light peaking through the wicker of the pergola. “It’s Jitter. I think.” She muttered, squinting at the bubbles fizzing up in the liquid.

“The hell is Jitter?”

“It’s a chem.”

“Duh. What does it do?”

“It’s extremely potent. Has some kind of odd regenerative effect that can alter wounds or injuries, something to that effect. The downside is that it also erodes your brain.”

“Of course it does.” You slump down to the back of your chair in defeat. If your hunch was correct, this could be the beginning of some kind of large production of this chem. Which would be bad for the streets, and even more enabling to the barrons. This was beyond the scope of your job description. You weren’t about to fight chem gangs, you had told her that clearly. But you also wanted to see this through, at her request or your own. “How does it affect the brain?” You dared to ask.

“It damages the cerebral cortex, the hippocampus, and the parietal lobe. Basically, it makes you confused, scared, and violent. Insane.” Lest passed the vial back over to you reluctantly. She was probably unsure of what you’d do with the liquid, but the plan at the top of your mind was to chuck it into the nearest incinerator. Not yet, though. You might need it as a form of proof. If you were to follow the case, then the ending of it would mean you’d need to be able to show the enforcers something that could convince them to take action. You didn’t like them at all, not one bit. But they were the only force that could take on such an intricate drug trafficking operation.

“How do you know all of this?” You prodded. “About the brain, not drugs.”

“Reading, I guess.” Lest shrugged, flicking her eyes to the closed book still on the table.

“Right.” And here the silence returned once more. It always comes back, it seemed. Like a wall kept cropping up between the two of you and one of you had to be the one to work to tear it down. “So do you want me to keep at it? I’ve got another lead, somewhere in the sump tonight.”

“I think so.” Lest thought it over. “Not for my sake, the shimmer really only put a dent in my work. But I know somebody who might be interested in anything you come up with. It’s entirely up to you.”

“I think I’ll see this through.” You quietly nod in thought. You had to, your curiosity was demanding you worm your dumb ass down that rabbit hole and by God you were going to. “Hey, I was wondering.” You glanced back at Lest across from the table, who was beginning to pick her book up and return to her marked page. 

“Shoot.”

You paused, hesitating to ask the question, but finally seeing it through. “Do you want to get some dinner sometime?”

“What? Like a date?” She smiled as she peeled her eyes back away from the page. A smile, not in a nice way but one that almost demeaned you. You didn’t like it, you felt an embarrassment inside of you like you were an idiot to even bring it up. What a stupid question. Of course not.

“If you wanna call it that.” You shrugged, stiffening up in your back as you tried not to show the fact that you regretted asking at all.

“You’re not really my type, detective.” She glanced back to the words of her book, her eyes scanning the page.

“I wasn’t aware I had to be a type of anything.”

“We’re all types of something.”

“How do you figure?”

“Rich, poor. Bold, temperamental. Smart, dumb. Someone’s gotta be something.” She hummed without looking your way.

“What if I follow this lead?” You wanted to crush your own fingers with your glass of beer for even trying to bargain about it. But your smart mouth just kept talking, like it was a game. You were just embarrassing yourself, and you didn’t even know how to stop.

“Then you’d just be a fool, detective. My fool.”

“Is that a genuine offer?” You leaned in against the table.

Lest looked up from her book again, barely containing a roll of her amber eyes. “Just follow the lead. I’ll think about it.” 

You leaned back, letting out a silent breath you didn’t even know you had been holding. What kind of game were you even playing? The hell came over you? You didn’t even think about saying those things, they just flew out of your smart mouth. You were lucky enough not to be laughed at. Yet she said she’d consider it. And you supposed that was enough to not make you daydream about drowning yourself for such a stupid stunt.

“Hey, you can’t be back here!” You heard the bartender call out through the open doors across the courtyard. You already knew who he was talking to, and the receiver was now bounding across the yard, taking a moment to hop up onto the ledge of the fountain and jump off. The both of you put out your cigarettes under the table in unison, like some kind of weird coordinated decision.

“Mission accomplished.” Lyric huffed out, coming to a stop before the table. He dug through his pants pocket and brought out the leftover of the cash that remained after paying your rent. “I didn’t take any, I swear.” He innocently announced.

You took the bills from his open hand, leaving one behind just for him. “Go get some lunch, kid.” You gave him a nod, expecting him to run off in an instant.

“Inna minute.” He muttered, disregarding you as his attention was all but ripped away. “What’s that?” He pointed to the camera sitting on the table before Lest. And out of all people, it was Lyric that she put away her book fully for. She placed it down in her bag, then sat up and took the camera off the table, giving him a warm inviting smile.

“It’s a camera, poppet. See?” She pressed a button on the side of the squarish frame, and the flash bulb shot out on the top. “Do you want to hold it?”

Lyric nodded and he was carefully passed the camera. He took a moment to look through the lens, moving it about in your face and then to Lest like an inverted telescope. “Can I take a picture with it?” He innocently asked.

“Just one.” Lest allowed him with a hush in her voice.

Lyric walked over to the edge of the fountain and spun around to face the both of you sitting at the table. He raised the camera to his eye and held it steady. There was a short pause, as he was trying to figure out how to take the picture.

“It’s the button-” You try to tell him.

“Let him do it on his own.” Lest whispered to you without turning away from the casual pose she was striking. There wasn’t a tenseness in her words, or any sense of telling you off. She wanted him to figure it out. The reward of catharsis was always the sweetest.

“Found it!” Lyric called back after a careful inspection of the device. He brought the camera back to his eye and held it steady. In an instant the flash went off and the little motor at the bottom began to hum and it spat out the photo. He took it from the bottom, walking back over to the table. “It’s all dark.” He frowned, looking at the featureless photograph.

“It takes time, you’ll see.” Lest hummed as Lyric passed her back the camera and let him hold onto the photo. You couldn’t actually remember ever seeing a photo of Lyric. Or yourself. Were there any photos of you? Was that the first one? Ever? Surely not, you doubted.

“Give me a sip.” Lyric turned to you, pointing at your beer expectantly.

“Sure.” You feigned, watching Lest give you the most judgemental side eye from your peripheral. You picked up the glass, brought it to your lips, and drank the entirety of its contents in one go. “Here.” You passed him the empty glass, the only thing left was a thin film of foam stuck to the glass. “Go crazy.”

“No fair.” Lyric huffed with disappointment. 

“One day, kid.” You took his hat off, scuffling up his soft black hair between your fingers. You put his cap back and stood up from your seat, letting Lyric take it. “I’ll be back once I’ll have another lead tonight, maybe tomorrow morning. We’ll see.”

“Where are you going?” Lyric looked up to you, hoping to follow after you again.

“Just a lead, kid. Stay here and watch the boss, that’s your job.”

“Got it.” Lyric gave you another half-salute as you began to walk away from the table, without so much as saying goodbye to your benefactor.

“Does that make me the boss?” Lest called out to you with a confused look, watching you walk back towards the bar.

“We’re all a type of something in life.” You called back.

𝖭𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋

𝖯𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋

Taglist: @madschiavelique @6selkie @roku907

[caution-we-bite]

Welcome to The Plural Way of Life!

The server was originally owned by @dystopia4dysphoria-deactivated2 ; you may have seen the original ad for the server on its tumblr. Now, the server is run by user @feinjamjam and the incredible staff!

This is a pro-endo, inclusive server centered around the experience of plurality. The server is for minors and adults ranging from ages 13 -> 39. Any respectful plural of any origin is allowed in this server; respectful singlets are also allowed.

What can we offer?

- A friendly community

- Helpful staff

- Verification system to avoid antis and trolls

- Name / pronoun help

- Vent channels

- No rules against littles being in the main chat

- Voice channels for streaming and hangouts

- Fun bots like poketwo and Mimu

- Currency and economy system

- Private room channels you may purchase

- Plural category including channels like the “plural culture is” channel and the “plural discussions” channel

FAQ

Q: I'm [system origin], am I allowed to join?

A: Yes! Any system of any origin is allowed, as long as you are respectful and kind!

Q: What if I don't know if I'm a system? Would I still be allowed to join?

A: Yes! Anyone may join! Including systems, questioning systems, and singlets. As long as you're respectful and kind!

Q: Are you accepting staff applications?

A: Yes!

Q: I have a problem with someone in the server. How would I handle that?

A: You can always create a ticket in the tickets channel to let the staff know if you have any issues! However, if you start any drama or add to it, we will kindly ask you to take it to DM's.

Q: I use a typing quirk, is that okay?

A: It's perfectly okay! Just keep in mind that if someone asks you to stop using it, especially if they use a screen reader, you should respect that! Staff will also have to respect that because we are all equal here!

[useless19]

We know communication is the crux and where a lot of growth happens, and I adore how you showed not the best communication and the effects both in the main and in the follow up. Is there any future miscommunications that you feel would br extra intense or particularly too close to home for one or the other that thanks to how they both grow they’ll be able handle? Like that would have been the end of things if it happened earlier?

I don't know that I can come up with specific examples without getting too lost in the weeds, but we can have a look at the sort of things that might give rise to some miscommunication.

Bowser is a villain. He's spent his whole life with it being reinforced that might is right. Once he reduces the amount of stealing/invasions he does to other countries, his war machine's momentum is going to halt and everyone he's wronged will start to try pushing back. (Peach is very much of the opinion that Bowser should pay reparations to everyone, but he doesn't want to completely tank his country's economy). Luigi's going to have to get used to the way Bowser talks about dealing with people, though Bowser's bark is always worse than his bite, so when he sketches out a plan to wipe a entire city off the map he's not all that likely to follow through, but it often sounds like he will. Having the courage to ask and figure out that Bowser's just venting is definitely a step Luigi is going to make.

On the other hand, Luigi is a bit of a pushover when it comes to people. He'll follow along and be swept up in all sorts of misadventures just because he rolls his charisma saves at disadvantage. He's also not super great at seeing through even paper-thin disguises and won't notice if people are flirting with him. Which can lead to Bowser getting stroppy when he thinks Luigi's trying to make him jealous.

Neither of them are particularly prone to keeping secrets, so I imagine miscommunication is more likely to be born from cultural/class differences and occasional moments of idiocy, than anything really serious.

Bowser is royalty and always has been. There's going to be moments when Luigi's overwhelmed with how much Bowser's spending on things and/or the quantity of stuff he buys, especially when it comes to getting stuff for Luigi. He's going to worry that he's not living up to Bowser's expectations and try to push himself to do better (Bowser certainly isn't going to complain about the extra affection), but that'll also lead to anxiety and Luigi burning himself out somewhat.

Similarly, Bowser operates on a higher energy level than Luigi. He'll keep suggesting activities to do and when Luigi inevitably bows out, it'll make Bowser feels like Luigi doesn't want to spend time with him full stop, not that Luigi just needs a couple of hours of quiet to recuperate.

They both take things at face value and Bowser especially is prone to not asking many questions if he thinks he's got the gist of things, while Luigi's more likely to avoid questions if he feels like everyone expects him to already know the answers.

... This feels like it's veered away from miscommunication issues and into general relationship problems. I don't know that I'm all that good at writing proper miscommunication, but hopefully this was in the right area.

[thekids-arentalright]

Heya! Introduction

I’m Callum, or you can call me Cal

I’m an alter in a system (our main blog is @the-fallen-collective) and this is a personal blog for me and me only!

Our body is 16, but alter age wise I’m 17

I’m a trans guy and I use he/him pronouns, I’m also pansexual and dating my awesome partner ><

Interests/hobbies: BSD, TGCF, photography, nature, arts and crafts, reading and writing, floral design, dancing, God Troubles Me, Eddsworld, Gravity Falls, Demon Slayer, Saiki K, and more

I don’t really have a DNI but BYI: I’m anti endo, against proship/comship/darkship, anti-contact for harmful paras, uhhh yeah

I’m questioning being an ox therian and angel otherkin

I do have a few copinglinks: Edd (Eddsworld), Elise (BSD), Karma (BSD), Q (BSD), child Daki/Ume (Demon Slayer), and He Xuan (TGCF)

Tagging system:

•callum rambles• - regular text posts about anything

•yearning• - talking about colbyyy >< (or just general yearning for stuff)

•callum vents• - vent posts

•art in this economy?• - art posts and crafts

•it was finished for once• - writing/story posts

•chill out dude• - posts talking about hyperfixations, special interests, or just current interests •favorite• - reblogs i really like

•important• - anything from reblogs that deal with important topics or simple posts I deem important

•the fam• - talking to/about mutuals

•the void speaks• - talking to anons

•we moving and grooving• - music related posts

•fit check• - pictures of me

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[apocalypsecraftstudios]

TW: Heavy Vent | Be Mindful!

• I honestly has been watching a lot of original animation meme videos on YouTube and thought it. I do not have enough resources and money to buy a WACOM graphic tablet because they're over of $ 100.000/200.000 ARS and Argentina has a terrible economy crisis. I'm economically unable to buy a graphic tablet to start animation because I do not have a proper job and I do need it because I want to start creating my own original memes and be a trend on social media but...Idk, I'm also afraid of people taking first the idea and that hurts a lot because I know I'm extremely original with coming up with ideas and seeing people having the same shit as mine hits quite hard. It truly hurts. And that's something people must be aware too. Fight for your own copyright shit hits real. And that's why I won't let anyone to steal/copy or take heavy inspiration from my art, ideas, designs and the rest of my copyright boundaries. I'm overly protective with my ideas and my mental animatics. I'm also a competitive person which is never a good idea to activate my competitive side.

So overall, I want to be a original Portal animation meme maker. I do also want to inspire people to create their own memes through mine as the main trend. I love Portal a lot, sincerely a lot. The same happens to the Nimona Fandom. I want to be a future trend in both Fandoms and I would feel super happy and honoured when people gets inspired by my ideas.

- That's all I wanted to vent. I know it may sound obvious but well, that's what I've been hiding. I know it's not good to hide your feelings and thoughts. So here I am, venting publicly.

Just feel free to say something but remain yourself very respectful, nice and mindful please! :')

[large-baguette-112]

omg an intro post??? in this economy???

Uhhh hi!! I'm Nugget! (though Nug or Nugs is fine as well :])

I'm a 20 year old artist and aspiring author who just likes reblogging my blorbos,,

my current fixations are Rain World, Hollow Knight, Ōkami, Runaway To The Stars (made by @/jayrockin), Outer Wilds, The August Few by Sam Fennah and taxidermy, but I mostly reblog Rain World related stuffs rn smdhdjd

I'm aroace and nonbinary, I use any/all pronouns, but feel free to just use they/them if you don't wanna get confused!

I have an art account!! @large-band-112

more under the cut because I don't wanna make this post very long BAHAHA

DNI Stuffs

(will be updated as time goes on, I'm just listing stuff off the top of my head rn)

If you're racist, pedophilic, ableist, homophobic, nazi, an AI artist, or just generally an asshole you will be blocked as soon as I find out. I do not tolerate any of this on my page.

As for tagging..

I try to keep this account fairly sfw, but i do occasionally reblog some suggestive posts (nothing raunchy tho dw) if I deem them safe-ish enough. I do my best to tag them accordingly!

I will try to tag any triggers or just general uncomfortable things, but I do not have the best knowledge of such things and will likely not know to tag them. If there is something I reblog/post frequently and it is a triggering subject, please let me know. I'm not very well versed on such things and would appreciate the assistance! I will do my best otherwise.

Also!!

If you're a mutual or just really wanna get to know me, feel free to dm me/ask for my discord!! I'm always down for a chat but I do have suuper bad social anxiety. If it takes me a while to respond I'm likely just trying to gather the courage to talk to you!

I am okay with people using my art to heavily reference or trace with credit (optional but preferred)!!!

the only thing I ask of you is if I can see it when it's done! I don't mind people using my art to help improve their own works, i actually love seeing it! However one thing i do NOT accept is people using my art for AI. do that shit and i will explode you forever actually

While my dms are open to mutuals who need to vent, I want a warning first. Nothing big, just ask before you begin so I can have the time to prepare myself.

While I am quite active here, I also have an Instagram! My art account there is large_band112, you'll find my main in its bio, but I don't post often there any more :)

I will say, I'm not as informed about stuff as I'd like to be.. If I say or do something offensive, please, please let me know. I will do my best to reeducate myself. I also ask to be patient with me, as sometimes I forget things, and will likely need to be reminded (just like.. outdated things that have new names n such for example).

[lionews]

Just came here to vent. I feel totally detached from the LD community nowadays. I just came back from a four year hiatus, and I decorated a few lions for fun. I was pretty proud of my work, and I don't have any IRL friends who play, so I thought I'd post something in main, kind of like "hey, check this out, i'm so proud of this!". So I posted in main chat and was totally ignored. Not one person said "hey that's cool," or whatever. Recently, I've been asking for help with pricing lions because I'm totally unfamiliar with this new economy, and these are also met with silence. I saw a lot of people were starting forum posts for auctions, games, and making friends, and I tried that but never got any responses. I don't know what it takes to "make it" as an LD player nowadays, and I guess I don't have what it takes, either. It bothers me because I used to have a lot of in-game friends that are no longer active, and I can't seem to make any connections with the new community. This game makes me feel like a ghost just running through the motions to care for my pride.

.

[manessha545]

Antofagasta de la Sierra

Volcán Antofagasta, Catamarca, Argentina.

Antofagasta de la Sierra is a volcanic field in Argentina. The main type of volcanic edifice in the area are scoria cones, it is formed by the La Laguna, Jote and Alumbrera volcanoes. The first and last of these form a sub-group which is better researched. Various dating methods have yielded ages from several million to several hundred thousand years ago, but some vents appear to be of Holocene age.

Antofagasta de la Sierra - Wikipedia

Antofagasta de la Sierra

Village in Argentina

Antofagasta de la Sierra, Catamarca, Argentina.

Antofagasta de la Sierra is a village in Catamarca Province, Argentina. It is the head town of the Antofagasta de la Sierra Department. Antofagasta de la Sierra is a high altitude settlement, the majority of its inhabitants are descended from the Diaguitas and Atacameños. 

Elevation: 3,320 m

Population: 667 (2001)

Province: Catamarca Province

The local economy is based on agriculture and farming; the residents keep sheep and llama and grow vegetables. Tourism plays an important part in the local economy as many tourists come to see the nearby mountains, volcanoes and calderas, including Galán caldera and the Antofagasta de la Sierra volcanic field. The village holds an annual Festival of the dead.

Antofagasta de la Sierra, Catamarca - Wikipedia

Antofagasta de la Sierra - a volcanic field in Argentina

[erwinrer]

Countless South Koreans have gone to Mongolia because of "sex"? Why the Outer Mongolia has become their "paradise"

What can you think of when you mention Outer Mongolia? Grassland, cattle and sheep, horse farms? However, in the eyes of many South Koreans today, it is the "overseas back garden" for their desire to vent themselves.

According to statistics, the pornography industry in Outer Mongolia has developed into the fourth place in Asia. Every year, a large number of Japanese and South Koreans enter the country, and crowded in the red light district of Ulan Bator to enjoy "characteristic tourism services".

So in the past, the "wind blowing grass low see cattle and sheep" of outer Mongolia, why will develop such a rampant sex industry?

In fact, when talking about the customs of Outer Mongolia, people always feel a little sensational. After all, in the eyes of many people, Outer Mongolia has always been known for its poverty and conservatism.

However, great changes have taken place in recent years. The most important industry in Mongolia is actually iron ore and animal husbandry. However, with the disorderly mining of the former, the serious desertification of the land, which directly and seriously affects the development of the latter.

In 2023, Mongolia's GDP was only 19.872 billion US dollars. Compared with the surrounding areas, agriculture is underdeveloped and industry is completely underdeveloped. However, if this is true, some overseas people see "business opportunities".

From the very beginning, many pimps from Japan and South Korea began to appear in Mongolia, began to build some "red light areas" engaged in service business, and then returned to China to promote "Mongolian characteristic tourism".

As a result, more and more overseas tourists have entered Outer Mongolia, with older Korean men occupying the vast majority.

According to statistics, since 2015, the number of Korean tourists entering Mongolia has reached at least 100, and more than 50,000 Koreans work and live here.

In addition, in the "Global AIDS Response Progress Report (GARPR)" released in 2013, the number of female practitioners in the Mongolian custom industry has reached about 19,000, while Mongolia has only 2.8 million people.

The Mongolian government has ignored the situation and has even continued to expand its tourism industry, almost tacitly agreeing with it.

So what affects the emergence and development of such an industry? To put it bluntly, it is actually both "money" and "sex".

In fact, from the main groups of these tourists, we can see that most of them are older men in South Korea, and the overall standard of living is not particularly high in South Korea.

As we all know, the "service industry" in South Korea has been extremely developed today, and is linked to the entertainment industry. In recent years, it has even directly "overtaking on the curve", overtaking Japan to become the first peach country in Asia.

However, although the local custom industry is very developed, but it is not many ordinary people can consume, and at this time some people put the target in the poor, backward Mongolia.

"Mongolian women for Korean men, just like forbidden fruit for virgin men."Said a flight attendant in Ulaanbaatar, for many ordinary middle-aged men in South Korea, outside Mongolia can enjoy higher" service " at very low prices.

Moreover, these women in Mongolia are also more in line with the aesthetic of these South Korean "tourists". Due to the overall poor economy and no supervision, many sex workers are even very young and quite good-looking, but they are forced to go on this road.

Young, beautiful, low price, this is a lot of Korean old men in the domestic can not think, and Mongolia also has a very strong affection for the Koreans, so more and more people began to pour into Mongolia, here has also become their "overseas paradise".

For the Mongolian government, it does not have much industry and faces various problems. The influx of these Koreans can bring a lot of foreign exchange, so although it is still illegal on the surface, many places began to acquiesced.

However, no one has considered the experience of these women. This disorderly development of the custom industry has led to many fallen women being forced to engage in this industry, and even formed an industrial chain of human trafficking behind it.

In addition, due to the lack of a clear management method, the outbreak rate of AIDS is increasing. According to statistics, 0.03% of people in outer Mongolia suffer from AIDS, and 32% of people do not even know that they have it.

In addition, many of these disorderly customs are also reflected in the experience of these workers. According to statistics, 63.4 percent of the sex workers in Ulan Bator said they had been abused by guests.

And many of them are afraid to publicly report their own violence, because local police rarely manage it, and calling the police can lead to even more brutal abuse.

So since things are getting out of control, what do Mongolian ians? The answer is that many people have even expressed their support.

For many Mongolian "intellectuals", they believe that this custom industry is not a bad thing, or even a good thing for economic development, because it can bring a lot of foreign exchange from Korea.

And in the past, Japan, South Korea and others earned US dollars through this way, but now they have become developed countries, so many Mongols do not feel ashamed about this, even if it is endangering the basic rights and interests of their women.

[sublimeobservationarcade]

Blame It On The Poor Immigrant

The conversation among my work crew is a fairly good reflection of the average discursive exchange happening around the nation at the moment, I reckon. Dressed as we are in high viz gear and steel capped boots ensconced in our work ute on the way to the site. Smoko ramps up with the news of the day and plenty of opinions. One of my erstwhile colleagues, a migrant from the old country, was voicing her support for those kicking up a stink in Britain. Blaming it on too many immigrants coming into the country and receiving special treatment to the detriment of those who really belong there. Blame it on the poor immigrant. Arnold Rasnick, Virginia-Pocahontas Coal Company by U.S. National Archives is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0

Revoking The Commonwealth

This is a popular theme here, there and everywhere, it seems. The cost of living and housing crises are biting a lot of working people on the bum at the moment. Blame it on the new arrivals is a perennial sentiment, especially when they have different coloured skin and look different. The thing about Britain is that for centuries the old empire was out and about taking stuff from lands abroad and enriching itself. Colonising places and imposing imperial rule upon their populations was their main game. Some of those coloured folk, their descendants anyway, have come to the United Kingdom to make it their home. Pakistani’s, West Indian’s,  African’s and plenty from other spots too have settled in England. It might be convenient to have a very short memory but there are consequences to historical actions. Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com

Righteous Racists Blaming People Of Colour

The race riots have been fuelled by misinformation and lies put about on social media by far right groups and racist individuals with large followings. Andrew Tate, Laurence Fox, Elon Musk and the other fascists pulling the strings. The horrendous stabbing murders of 3 girls and 8 others with knife wounds in Southport were immediately and falsely attributed to a Muslim refugee. In fact, this mentally ill young guy was born in Britain but was of the wrong coloured skin for many of these patriotic Brits online. Hundreds of angry righteous blokes have gone on a rampage attacking refugee centres and mosques around the country. The police have copped it in their attempts to defend innocent people and maintain law and order. This is not really about the murders of innocent kids; it is about venting rage and frustration for its own sake. There is a surfeit of violent passion being whipped up by social media and the culture wars happening right now. We are all being screwed by our economies and big business these days. Most folk don’t know who to take it out on and are being manipulated into blaming the state. The state has been sucked dry by private corporate interests called private equity under the banner of neoliberalism. Their political allies hide behind bullshit smoke screens like immigration, LGBTQI gender issues, and the anti-woke puppet show. Cowards and bullies like to punch down upon weaker victims like refugees and trans people, they hardly ever take on the real people who are stealing their lunch. Downward envy is encouraged by the authoritarian right wing parties and the Murdoch press. Divide and conquer by getting people to fight amongst themselves whilst the wealthy dance on our heads is the order of the day. “Nursing leaders have expressed their horror at racist violence across the UK, as two Filipino nurses have been among the targets of far-right rioters. Riots first broke out in Southport, Merseyside last Tuesday (30 July) after far-right agitators began a misinformation campaign on social media falsely claiming the perpetrator of a mass knife attack on a group of children in the town the previous day was a Muslim.” - (https://www.nursingtimes.net/news/leadership-news/filipino-nurses-attacked-as-nhs-community-condemns-racist-riots-05-08-2024/) Jeff Bezos by U.S. Air Force is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0 Identity Politics Playing You For A Fool Identity politics is smoke and mirrors, it is a scam perpetuated upon those who don’t bother to look into things. Here is a tip, much of the stuff that enrages you online is BS. It is purposely designed to provoke you and get you losing your shit and not thinking straight. Demonising gay and trans people, demonising immigrants and refugees, these are not the people getting rich at your expense. Wake up sunshine! Dig a little deeper and don’t believe everything you read online. There are people like Rupert Murdoch making money out of your rage. There are people in Russia misinforming you for their own nefarious designs. There are populists wanting power who are promising you they will make it all better – they won’t. Maybe spend a little less time in the gym and try exercising your brain instead. Ask yourself the question – who benefits? This is the key to every investigation. You know if they kicked out every migrant and every gay person you would still have the same problems. It is a scam. These poor people are not taking your piece of the pie. It is the billionaires and their underlings gobbling up the pie at your expense. It is always the same old story, nothing ever changes. Robert Sudha Hamilton is the author of America Matters: Pre-apocalyptic Posts & Essays in the Shadow of Trump. ©MidasWord Photo by Kelly on Pexels.com Read the full article

[hyperfixssession]

Bit of a sad vent below gang, it’s not one that needs reading, I just need to get it out and this is the void I yell into (that sometimes yells back)

Jesus Christ, I know we talk about it all the time, but this whole loneliness edpidemic thing is so rough. All my friends live hours away. I’m stuck in my fucking hometown, a place I couldn’t wait to get out of, all because I had to leave the city because rent was too high to afford and I can’t fucking do anything without savings bc I don’t have an s/o, so no bank or landlord wants to give me a place solo unless I have a shit ton of savings under my belt.

I’m so sick of fucking waiting, and I know patience doesn’t have to be miserable, but being here, around all the ghosts of people I used to know, is truly fucking with my head. I don’t want to fucking backtrack and he 17 again. I’m not that person anymore. But just being here makes me that person again. I don’t know how live, actually live here.

I’m just treading water and breathing and trying to get out again, like the last years meant nothing. It’s not fucking fair. Politics this, economy that, I work fucking hard, and yet I’ll never have the same opportunities as a person in my position decades ago. I know times change, but still. Housing should be affordable. LIFE should be affordable.

And I’m so fucking lonely here. So lonely I don’t know how to actually explain it. I escape into music, fiction, my writing. But if I go to far, that makes me sad too, because it’s not fucking real. I just want to feel special, I want to feel wanted. I think that’s something we all want, I think it’s a very human experience. But now my best coping mechanism is making me sad too, and I can’t get away from any of it. I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m not a danger to myself or others, but I have this… ache. The deep, gaping ache in my chest. I physically hurt, my emotions are causing me actual pain. I just want to feel whole, but I don’t know how.

Is it meant to all be this hard? I don’t think it is.

Does anyone else feel this way? Surely I can’t be in boat in my own here.

I’m always on the outside, looking in. Even at my own life. I’m in the shadow at the edge of the light. An NPC waiting for the main character to interact with me.

I just want to be chosen, I just want to feel special. I just want to feel special. I just want to be wanted. I just wish. I just want.

I want. I am hollow and hungry.

[awkwxrdapple]

I'm a bit out of it right now on meds but I've gotta vent this and I think tumblr is the right audience...

As I'm on a "gap year" in-between university courses I'm working in a pub (so a bar basically to non-UK peeps). I work with a woman who I've found out is a midwife by training and that's her main "day" job. So she literally helps people bring new life into the world every day... and still has to have a second evening job to support her kid??? She literally told me that's why she works at the pub too. We're in the UK, one of the biggest economies in the world and a MIDWIFE has to have a second job to support raising her kid. I don't know whether she's a single parent or not, but either way surely we should be paying our healthcare workers so they can feed, clothe, and house themselves and their kids?? Without needing a second job? Wow. Baffled. Get the fucking tories out.