Does Mage likes purple only? what about other colors?

His favorite color is actually black! (it’s not a color ik idc) and aside from purple (it feels classy and fancy) and dark blue (night skies), he generally prefers warm colors, while disliking green and light blue.

Target, Walmart whoever it offering a celebrity a partnership is a multi year deal and the backing of these big companies allow your products to be properly marketed. Even DVF recently came out w her own collab w Target. Now this is a really a sign that she’s scraping the bottom of the barrel personally but it’s a way to get consumers into your brand at accessible price points (hopefully younger too) before they can afford the brands full prices wares.

I don't think a Target or a Walmart collab is scraping the barrel, not necessarily. It reads more like a concerted rebranding effort.

Isaac Mizrahi was the first major designer to do a Target collab, followed by Missoni, and it really rocked fashion. You just didn't "diffuse" your brand like that. But once everyone saw how successful he was and how easily he became more than just luxury clothing, every other designer immediately began hustling for their own diffusion collection.

A diffusion collection - which is usually what the department store collaborations are - is not an "instead of" collection. It's an "in addition to" collection. Meaning Isaac Mizrahi, or DVF in this case, still have their own luxury/high street brand and they also have a parallel brand for a different kind of consumer. Yes, the goal is to convert them to consumers of the luxury brand eventually, but it's also diversifying their reach currently to a new audience that isn't attracted to the luxury marketplace - after all, the younger generations today tend to value experience-based consumerism (buying "experiences") more than product-based consumerism (buying "things"). Because we spend less money on housewares, clothing, decor, groceries, etc., we're not going into the luxury marketplace. We're going into the in-and-out department stores like Target to grab what we need for our next outing.

So it's less scraping the barrel and more "if Mohammed won't come to the mountain, the mountain most go to Mohammed" strategery because in today's day and age, if you're not diversifying, you're dying.

So in my mind, the DVF collab is good. It means they know their current model of luxury exclusivity isn't sustainable in the long-term so we could really be on the cusp of a serious cultural pivot here. Time will tell.

(I miss the old clothes from Target, especially my Missoni t-shirts. They were in such good quality I could've worn them forever. Now Target's clothes are paper-thin fast fashion that can barely last three spin cycles.)

It's Mar Cheshvan, the most "bitter" of all the months of the year, so to cheer everyone up I'm going to do a short review of what happens when you search for Judaica on Aliexpress. I'm gonna got with only the first four results.

So let's start:

Alright so the first out of the first four results:

Alright. So, no obvious Messianic symbols on this one. I like the colours, and there's no Christian words in the title. It also has the right number of branches for a proper Chanukiyah, and it looks like something I'd like to own if it was actually good quality, which I doubt.

10/10 for this one.

Well, obviously this one is glaringly obvious. That's seven branches, not nine, even though it claims to be for "Hanukkah". The 12 Tribes motifs are nice, it's just too bad that it can't actually be used for Chanukah. No Messianic symbols or language on this one though, so that's at least the bare minimum.

6/10. You may think that's a little high, but for Aliexpress this isn't too bad.

Well. Well. First of all, this Challah cover isn't my personal taste, but it's actually a Breslover Challah cover. The fire symbol and the phrase "תוקד עד ביאת משיח", which means "My fire burns until the coming of Mashiach" is a Breslover motto. Which of course makes it all the more offensive that the title of this product has the phrase "Church Souvenirs". This is gross, and also shows blatent plagierism which Aliexpress is notorious for.

0/10

Hm. Well, I mean it's obvious this is Messianic even without looking at the title. The plus side is that it's made out of cheap metal, which means that whoever buys this garbage will get green tarnish stains all over their neck from wearing it. And, maybe I'll give this one a point just for making me giggle thinking of people wasting their money on this product and just ruining their skin with the cheap metal.

1/10, just for the thought of these people getting those annoying green tarnish stains.

Anyway.....don't buy judaica from aliexpress or any cheap novelty website. Support other Jews and get your Judaica ware from verified Jewish artists and sellers. But this was fun.

[id in alt text]

ok so like

me again :D

imagine yx taking care of yanqing and teaching him forgery (yq is like 10 - 12)

thats it thats all

i dont have any brain juice anymore - paimon

This is adorable!!! I love getting asks so feel free to send them in. I'm sadder that work has taken so much time out of my day that I wasn't able to respond sooner.🥺

I know you meant forging but the idea of Yingxing teaching Yanqing how a good sword is made so he won't get duped by a counterfeit in the market stuck to me. I also don't know much about forging so this was born from the little research I did. I hope you like it. If you want more regarding this, please feel free to send me an ask!

Yingxing has always banned Yanqing from the forge due to the fact that it was dangerous. Molten metal, and sharp tools, all are just accidents waiting to happen. Even in the Artisanship Commission, Yanqing is only allowed in Yingxing's office, the man cannot bear the thought of his child wandering around and getting attacked by an automaton.

However, as Yanqing got older, his allowance which would go to candy and snacks was now going to swords and scabbards. In the Xianzhou Alliance, swords and spears were preferred over guns as personal weapons. Part of it came from durability and aesthetics, but the other part was due to it being more useful as it did not need to be reloaded. But the high demand also brewed a strong market for counterfeit items which Yingxing had a strong distaste for. There was no way to ensure a weapon was high quality without knowing the artisan and the basic nature of blade-making and Yingxing could never allow Yanqing to be near a poorly made weapon. Which is why, for the first time in his son's 10 years of life, he was allowed in the forge.

Yanqing watched carefully from the bench as his father hammered the heated stick of metal flat, sparks flying with each contact.

"Now look here Yanqing, this is one of the most important steps in making a sword. During this process, both sides must be perfectly even and the point must be blunt. An uneven blade and a dull point are signs of a poor sword and an even more incompetent artisan for allowing such a thing to be sold. Don't ever buy swords from incompetent artisans and merchants. If they are unable to spot a quality sword, then there is no point looking at any of their wares." Yingxing stated very strictly.

"I understand." Yanqing nodded. He's sure that if he ever brought home such a poorly made sword, his Baba would walk straight back to the market and give the artisan an earful.

Yingxing then moved the cooled blade back into the forge and repeated the process 3 more times before sanding the edges smooth. He placed the blade back in the forge again, watching the blade turn bright orange and yellow before dunking it in oil. The sword sizzled upon contact with the liquid and steam erupted from the basin.

"This is to strengthen the metal. Doing this step improperly means a weak and brittle sword. This steel is from the furnace aboard the Zhuming and has very special properties. You can tell from the lines in the metal and the way it glows that the steel was properly quenched. If you don't see these, the sword is either a fake or poorly made."

Yanqing peered at the stellar blade his father made. The lines in the metal were smooth and evenly spaced and when held up to the light it produced an iridescent glow around it. "When I get better at the sword, will you make me one?" His voice brimming with excitement at the thought of weilding one of his father's blades.

Yingxing smiled at him and patted him on the head. "Of course, I look forward to making you as many blades as you wish."

Yingxing awaited the day he could make Yanqing a sword. He had tons of drawings made and a list of the finest materials saved for his son's first real sword. His child would only have the best swords, blades worthy of being compared to Starfall Reverie and Cloud-Piercer.

I hope you like it!❤️

Couldn’t help but write more for my superhero AU. This takes place after HotGuy and Xelqua cross paths a few more times.

—————

“I see him!” Scar whisper exclaims into his phone.

“Scar.” Cub saying, his tone a warning, “don’t do it.”

“Come on Cub,” Scar counters, “I need answers about him and I won’t get it with the others.” He quickly makes his way along the sidewalk, heading towards where he’d seen the avian perched on a building. He barely catches him jumping down onto the bustling street.

“And following this apparently powerful vigilante is a smart idea?” Cub lets out an exasperated breath, “Scar, you are unarmed and practically defenseless.”

“Exactly,” he defends, “which means I’m just a normal civilian.” Before Cub can voice any more complaints, Scar cuts him off, “he just went into a store, I’m gonna follow him. Bye.” He hangs up, quickly following Xelqua into the store.

Scar pauses as he looks around the store. At first glance it seems like a normal, albeit small, clothing accessory shop, but Scar can tell there’s something more to it. He walks down the aisles, eyes focused on the wares as he approaches the counter. He’s soon close enough to catch their conversation.

“You already do enough for us, you don’t have to,” the lady in charge says.

Xelqua scoffs, “nonsense. It’s not fair for you to pay so much extra for something so simple.”

She sighs, “it’s just the price to pay for goods outside of the city.”

“I can fly there and back within a day, that price is outrageous.”

Scar can catch Xelqua’s feathers ruffling out of the corner of his eye. He knows enough about avians to know that the vigilante is genuinely upset about this. Very different to how he is any time Scar faces him. Scar keeps his eyes focused of the wares in front of him, studying them a bit more. He reaches a hand out and grabs one of the scarfs hanging on the rack, realizing that it’s hand made.

“You don’t need to worry,” the owner insists, “I can have it handled myself.”

“It’s not an inconvenience to me, I wouldn’t be doing right by them if I didn’t help.”

Scar drops the scarf, surprised at the sheer amount of passion in Xelqua’s voice. He spares a glance over, taking in just how much the avian cares about this. This is just giving him more questions then answers.

The lady sighs, “alright, I’ll get you a list of supplies and the money to pay for it. Just don’t strain yourself to do it, okay?”

Xelqua nods, grinning, “alright. I’ll return after closing then.”

She nods, “I’ll see you then.”

The vigilante turns around, beginning to walk towards the exit, right towards Scar. He freezes when they make eye contact, and Scar thinks he’s immediately been outed. Thankfully Xelqua just gives him a nod before exiting the shop.

“I didn’t notice you enter,” the owner says, a slight change in her tone.

Scar meets her eyes and tries not to get defensive, having instantly recognized the look. The look of someone judging you but trying not to make it clear that they were. Scar just grins, “it’s fine, I was just browsing.”

“Mhm,” she hums, sounding amicable, but her gaze studying all of Scar was less so.

It’s only then that Scar realizes his outfit definitely sticks out here, basically flaunting his high class status. He can’t help but wince, he really is that oblivious, huh?

Scar looks back to the scarves, definitely intending to buy one now. It is early fall and he doesn’t own one, after all. He stiffens as his heart stutters, eyes landing on one of them. It’s plain, but a bright red color. A very familiar red. It’s nearly the exact same color as his sweater. Scar carefully picks it up, it feels like a good quality scarf, not that Scar is thinking about that at the moment, his mind is far away.

Void, he really can’t go one day without thinking of Grian, can he?

Scar takes in a deep breath, trying to keep his composure, it wouldn’t do much good to fall apart here. He turns to face the shop owner, “I’d like to buy this one.”

A RED SCARF QoQ catch Grian seeing him later, or another day wearing that Scar and just knowing what it means

OUGHGSIUHGFDStgf

The ink-stained parchment lay before me, bearing words of importance. It held a message that needed to reach distant shores, far beyond the reach of my current abode. The task was clear—I had to undertake a voyage, braving unknown lands and treacherous seas, to ensure the safe delivery of this precious missive.

With the letter safely tucked away in my bag, I embarked on a grand adventure. The road unfurled before me, winding through verdant landscapes and bustling towns. Each step carried me closer to my destination, yet the distance seemed vast, the expanse of the world unfathomable.

As I traveled, I marveled at the sights and sounds of foreign lands. The air was scented with unfamiliar fragrances, the language spoken by the locals a melodious symphony that danced upon my ears. The customs and traditions of these distant realms intrigued me, offering glimpses into lives so different from my own.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days, as my journey pressed on. I encountered fellow travelers along the way, their stories intertwining with mine for fleeting moments. We shared meals, exchanged laughter, and bid each other farewell, knowing that our paths diverged as swiftly as they had converged.

The physical distance between me and the intended recipient of the letter seemed inconsequential compared to the emotional chasm bridged by those written words. They held the power to convey sentiments that transcended borders and time, reaching into the depths of the reader's heart.

Through rugged terrain and unpredictable weather, my resolve remained unyielding. The letter, a testament to love, friendship, or perhaps a plea for forgiveness, grew heavier with each passing mile. Its contents were etched in my memory, their weight echoing in my thoughts.

Finally, after countless trials and tribulations, I arrived at the edge of the known world—the place where the letter would find its final purpose. The distant land, with its foreign customs and unknown faces, embraced me in its arms. The letter, once entrusted to me, was now ready to continue its journey, to convey its message to the one who shall receive it.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, I stood before the local post office—a humble abode where dreams and stories converged. I handed over the letter, its journey nearly complete. The postmaster, with a kind smile, assured me of its safe passage, knowing the significance it held for both sender and recipient.

As I departed from that distant land, a sense of fulfillment washed over me. Though the journey had been arduous, it had been imbued with purpose and meaning. The letter, a vessel of emotions and words, had been delivered to its intended destination, bridging the distance between hearts separated by miles and oceans.

The receiver by the name of Teecupangel opened the mail and pulled out the letter, inside it says "HayDes where they are both birds"

(I have no regrets)

After a brief confusing mistaken identity incident compounded by the sudden traveling and moving weak bones unused to such travels nowadays had to endure, the alchemist known by many names has finally gotten used to the new atelier. A large cauldron with liquid swirling in colors of golden sands and azure time ready to be filled with many alchemic materials sits over a fire on the right end of the main room. Next to it is a small chalkboard that has been written on and erased so many times it has forever been whitened by the residue of the previous words clinging to it now written with a new list of the materials that must be added to the cauldron before the end of the week so that the alchemist might be able to peddle next week’s wares to the archives.

On the table near the cauldron lies two synthesized items of a kind of glass bomb, its clear glass surface showing the swirling golden flames made of high-quality gunpowder, inspired by a recipe from a group of professional alchemists only known as IW. One of the bombs seemed to have been placed in an apparatus of some kind, an alchemic tool used to rebuild already created synthesized items so they may be checked and materials may be added or changed if necessary.

A final step needed to ensure the quality of each synthesized item before they are peddled to the archives.

By the back of the main room, next to the large chest filled with materials picked or ordered by the alchemist were seven or eight cauldrons of varying sizes all stacked on top of each other, each bearing a little post-it with different numbers that seemed to be ‘0808’, ‘0812’, ‘0816’, ‘0826’ or ‘0828’. One of these cauldrons seemed to have the phrase ‘?w b 1012’.

On the left wall of the main room of this atelier, there appeared to be smaller cauldrons all lined up with a smaller fire already crackling over a small cauldron. There was the shining sounds that alerted the alchemist that it was done and the liquid inside the cauldron turned into a puff of multicolored smoke. All that was left inside was some kind stuffed teddy bear that seemed to have come from the nightmares of children. The alchemist grabbed the cauldron and hauled it off next to a box filled with small items that had been requested before and will be delivered today. The alchemist took the teddy bear and inspected it to make sure it was of good quality before placing it on the box. The alchemist walked back to the line of smaller cauldrons and took the closest to the fire before grabbing the next one and dragging it closer. The alchemist took the letter that they have placed inside when they had prepared the cauldron and placed the cauldron into the fire. As the cauldron heats, liquid of endless possibility slowly fill the cauldron while the alchemist opens the letter. The alchemist’s lips curved into a smile as they read the journey that this letter had gone thru all in the hopes that the writer’s request would be given even just a small item.

Then…

“HayDes where they are both birds.”

And the alchemist shuffled to the chest of materials to look for bird feathers and taco shells…

(And you shouldn’t regret anything about this ask. The whole introductory part made me smile and really made me wonder what you plan to ask XD)

You’re free to think of what kind of bird they would be although I was thinking of a House Finch when I was writing this, the ones with the red plumage since red is both a part of Haytham’s color and the color of the Assassins that Desmond has in his main outfit.

Haytham used to be owned by one Reginald Birch who had to let him go because he was acquired illegally and, well, Reginald Birch was in trouble with the government for other more serious crimes that he can’t afford a ‘loose end’.

Haytham was just minding his own business, trying to get used to the sudden freedom he had received, flying out of the way of larger birds of prey that he would sometimes see flying above him when he happen to hear singing. He flies to that direction, making sure to stay in the cover of branches and anything that would hide him from any predators above him and managed to perch on a branch that overlooks a small home with a well-maintained lawn with a bird feeder at the center, surrounded by bushes that held delicious looking berries.

The singing was coming from the bird feeder where a lone bird of the same species as him seem to simply be lazing around, hopping from the bottom part of the feeder to the top, sometimes even dipping a wing into the drinking water for a bit.

Almost as if mesmerized by the song, Haytham raised his wings to take flight and go to the bird feeder but then he heard a loud cry of a bird of prey that sounded quite larger than him.

He raised his head…

And three large eagles stare down at him as if warning him to not do anything foolish.

Unorganized Notes

Desmond is unofficially the pet bird of the house with the bird feeder. Every morning, a man with glasses and a noticeable British accent would do maintenance of the lawn and even pick up some berries to place on the bird feeder for Desmond to snack on. Whenever Desmond chirps his gratitude to him, he just goes, “Yes, yes, of course you’re happy, you bloody freeloader.”

The three eagles are the ones keeping the other birds from going to the bird feeder. Haytham has no idea what they’re deal is and they have no plans to explain anything to Haytham but Desmond seemed to know them, even calling them by their names. They’re all different kinds of eagles.

Haytham gets a crow friend named Shay who tells him the tea. Apparently, Desmond was also thrown away like Haytham although Shay don’t know the reason for that one. Anyway, Desmond befriended the eagles during his time looking for a place to live and they just… sorta stayed together? Anyway, the owner of the bird feeder only knows about Desmond and the three eagles usually hunt nearby and stuff.

Haytham thinks the entire thing is stupid and, really, don’t the damn eagles think that maybe Desmond would like some company?

“Of course, just not you.”

This does end with Haytham getting Shay to make noises that wil distract the eagles (Shay decided that getting chased by that asshole dog Gaultier would be a good distraction enough and started screaming for help once he was nearby all the while goading Gaultier just to be a jerk).

Haytham manages to dive into the bird feeder but one of the eagles realized it and let out a loud cry to alert the others so Haytham ignored precision and grace for speed.

And ended up diving straight to the water fountain.

From there, the eagles are powerless as Desmond and Haytham start to grow closer because, now that Desmond has seen and talked to Haytham, they can’t ‘make him go away’ (“You’re going to eat him?!” “Shoo him away.” “But eating was never off the table.”) because that would make Desmond sad.

They usually just talk while sharing the bird feeder as they learned about each other and Haytham totally ignored the glaring he could see behind Desmond.

Once they started getting close, they began to groom each other.

Haytham usually hides in the bushes and flies from one bush to another whenever the owner would come out. Desmond tells him that this ‘Shaun’ would be happy to find another bird using this large bird feeder but Haytham isn’t gonna risk it since the man always sounds so annoyed when he’s doing the daily lawn maintenance.

When they’re finally together, they began to sing at the top of the bird feeder and Haytham stays even after the man has come out. The man stares at Haytham for a few seconds before turning to look at the forest where the eagles have (disgruntedly) approved of Haytham and Desmond’s relationship, “You three finally decided that Desmond can have a partner?” There was three sets of grumbling bird sounds and the man nods as he said, “Yeah, I guess not.” (From inside the house, they hear a female voice shout, “Shaun! Stop pretending you can understand birds!”)

Sidebar: I was thinking of this kind of feeder:

Farsighted thinkers have pointed out that the moral imperative of respect for life, formerly understood in quantitative terms, must now be understood in terms of the quality of life. This has obvious implications, such as the need for population control and for bringing a halt to the waste of resources and pollution of the environment. Such needs are not understood by the machismo mind. Marcuse uses the category of obscenity to describe the behavior of the "affluent monster." He points out that "this society is obscene in producing and indecently exposing a stifling abundance of wares while depriving its victims abroad of the necessities of life . . . in its prayers, in its ignorance, and in the wisdom of its kept intellectuals." Meanwhile, of course, the affluent society pretends to be improving the quality of life, disguising what is actually happening by its usual techniques, which I have called "reversal."

Marcuse observes that the Establishment abuses the term "obscenity" by applying it, not to expressions of its own immorality but to the behavior of another:

Obscene is not the picture of a naked woman who exposes her pubic hair but that of a fully clad general who exposes his medals rewarded in a war of aggression; obscene is not the ritual of the Hippies but the declaration of a high dignitary of the Church that war is necessary for peace.

Marcuse's perception is acute, and he rightly calls for "linguistic therapy" which would free words from almost total distortion of their meanings by "the Establishment." Yet I must point out that the therapy will never be radical enough if the basic obscenity is perceived as capitalism rather than sexism. The very word "obscene" itself, as used by "the Establishment," suggests the locus of the essential perversion and victimization. Marcuse's own insightful juxtaposition of the naked woman and the fully clad general reveals the basic reversal in phallic morality which is still observable in socialist as well as capitalist societies. Such social criticism does not go far enough. It employs revealing instances of the powerful elite's sexist behavioral, imaginative, and linguistic distortions while still perceiving these distortions' radical source in capitalism and their cure in socialism.

Another sentence from the same essay of Marcuse is symptomatic of this phenomenon of shortsightedness. He writes:

Thus we are faced with the contradiction that the liberalization of sexuality provided an instinctual basis for the repressive and aggressive power of the affluent society [emphasis mine].

It should be stressed and this is what feminism is doing—that the so-called liberalization of sexuality "provides an instinctual basis for the repressive and aggressive power" of the sexist society. For of course it is not a genuine liberation of sexuality that displaces the obscenity of generals and projects it upon naked women, and the essential disease is not affluence in itself. The lifting of taboos on genital sexuality does nothing to liberate from sex roles. Marcuse himself says that this relaxation binds "the 'free' individuals libidinally to the institutionalized fathers."

Such expressions of insight into the sexist nature of the oppressive society, strangely coupled with failure to direct the critique directly and essentially at sexual oppression, is characteristic not only of intellectuals such as Marcuse but also of more "popular" expressions of social criticism. Such films as The Godfather, The Ruling Class, and Deliverance can be seen as brilliant exposes of the social disease which is patriarchalism. One could almost believe that the writers and directors must be committed feminists. Yet the functioning of these productions, with their amazingly revelatory juxtapositions of sex and violence and their exploitation of phallic symbolism, has not been directed intentionally to the service of feminism. Perhaps one could call such "understanding" of sexual alienation "subintentional." Recognition of the real enemy's identity is so close to the surface of consciousness of the writers and directors of such productions that some feminists tend to find the experience of reading such books and watching such films almost unbearable. "They know not what they say," it would seem. Then it is clear that women will have to speak forth the identity of that which is destroying us all. The subintentional revelations of male critics indicate that some receptivity to this knowledge may be possible—that the capacity to hear is closer to consciousness than we would have expected. The time for us to speak is precisely now.

-Mary Daly, Beyond God the Father: Toward a Philosophy of Women’s Liberation

setting: blush boutique

featuring: eren öztürk & kui james @thelatekuijames

Eren muttered a curse under his breath, a single faux leather clad fingertip slipping beneath the hole on his palm and rubbing slowly at the skin beneath. This was why he should have kept a larger collection of gloves handy. Sometimes in the middle of hard work, it was easy for the fabric to snag on something and tear. If he hadn’t heard that rip… he shuddered to think of any accidental brushing of skin against his own, tugging at the sleeve of his overcoat to cover the vulnerable hand in question. Down to his last pair, he knew it was time to get another — or maybe a handful, pun intended. It was what drew him to the boutique, shoving his torn glove laced hand into his pocket as he pushed open the door with his other.

This wasn’t normally his scene by any means, ever since swapping from a flip phone to one of those smart phones, the banshee had become an avid fan of online shopping. There was an incredible lack of interaction that came with ordering things online, and practically everything was at his finger tips. Never mind that touch screens didn’t always work well with his preferred handwear, Eren figured out his way around things just to keep his human interaction to an absolute minimum. They did have those smart phone friendly gloves, after all. He wondered if maybe he could find something similar here.

Glancing about at the wares — and incredibly wary of any other bodies idling by — Eren found instead that his gaze landed upon a familiar face. Kui James had been one of those interviewed by the council, when they requested his services. While his skin crawled at the memory of constant contact, a part of his mind whirled with the memory of secrets and visions unfurling before his very eyes. Memories of death were always a complicated affair, one he dealt with on a professional basis. As he looked at them, he wondered if he had done his best to lessen the blow of reliving such a thing, or the awkwardness of sharing it with so many others. Attempting a semblance of a smile — something small, cordial, polite in an efficient way — Eren approached Kui with a slightly bowed head. “Hello there,” he greeted, tone dry but not particularly rude or unwelcoming. “It’s… Kui, right? It’s good to see you again. I hope you’re doing well,” and they could be sure it was earnest, as a fae could not lie. “Perhaps you can help me, you see,” he paused to pull his hand out of his pocket and show the torn glove, “It looks like I’m due for a replacement… or five. You don’t happen to carry high quality gloves? Or maybe even the ones with the touch pad friendly finger tips?”

-->And then, after Alice was long done with the harvest and Smiler done with all the other chores, Victor FINALLY wrapped up all his tending, meaning – at 11:30 AM in-game – we could go to the damn store! Yay! I sent Alice around to the side to finish up her mural while Victor cleaned up the “out-of-stock” signs, then, once everything was ready, Smiler officially opened the place up!

Which – took a bit, because this lot DOES have lag problems. Like, some really nasty lag problems. I don’t know why, other than maybe it just has too much stuff on it. *sigh* But the store DID open, eventually, and the customers started coming in. Smiler of course took point on the sales floor, chatting with the various NPCs who walked in the door (and admiring their fashion choices -- seriously, look at the bright yellow eye shadow on that one lady) and working their sales magic. Alice concentrated on finishing off her mural, then joined Smiler in interacting with the customers (with some reluctance, as you can see by her face -- she did get along pretty well with Ash from High School Years, though); Victor, meanwhile, focused on making a new flower arrangement (magicking it up to better quality once he was done to make sure he could scent it with bluebells to keep it timeless), then went outside to enjoy some fresh air and a Delicioso hamburger. Nice, easy start to the day, right?

-->Well -- sort of. Because right around the time Victor had his hamburger, things started picking up in the store. At first, it was pretty manageable, with Smiler and Alice running around making sales as more and more customers started coming in and perusing their wares and Victor tried to get in a quick toilet break before doing his part (emphasis on tried, as he insisted on cleaning up his plate first)...

Prompt "getting them something (in a totally platonic way for sure) they mentioned like ONCE in a conversation forever ago which holds some sentimental value and being like “ohh you like it? great pfft what do you mean you told me about this i just saw it in a store hahaha ANYWAY”" with um... frankly anyone its just a very good prompt. Paint and Ravi?

Omg YES. I love this idea. Might have diverged a little from the original prompt but here:

Ravio watched anxiously as Paint unwrapped the inconspicuous brown paper from the package, then opened the package itself. He'd seen the contents— a new set of high-quality paintbrushes and a charcoal sketching pencil— in a store while out selling his own wares and knew immediately that Mr Hero would love it. He'd mentioned before that he needed a new set; his current brushes were stiff with old paint and leaving their own bristles behind with each stroke. But he'd been unable to find a new set that he and Ravio could afford without going hungry for several weeks.

"No way... YOU GOT ME NEW ART SUPPLIES?!?!" Paint exclaimed with the widest smile Ravio had seen on his face in a long time.

"You like them? I saw them while I was in town today and thought—"

"I LOVE THEM!!! They're so fancy... How in the world did you afford these? I've been looking for a new set for months that wasn't insanely expensive!"

"Ah, well..." Ravio blushed slightly, "They actually weren't that expensive. I suppose the value of Rupees is different in this world. I just saw them and thought of you."

Paint's kiss came so suddenly, it startled the Lorulean merchant. His face turned redder than the paint stains on his partner's tunic. Paint's gorgeous icy blue eyes met Ravio's rupee-green ones as he cupped his lover's face in his hands

"I love it. I love you. You didn't have to do this but you did and thank you, thank you thank you so much!!!" Paint was nearly sobbing with pure joy at the gift. Ravio threw his arms around him, kissing his cheek.

"Anything for Mr. Hero."

fish are friends. not food.

He was arranging his wares for the day. He was proud of the fresh, high-quality fish that he offered, and he enjoyed the steady stream of customers that came to buy his goods. But as he worked, he caught sight of a person standing before his stall, staring at him and telling him that fish were friends, not food, that they should not be sold for human consumption.

The vendor listened, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest.

He knew that what they were saying was true. Fish were beautiful, living creatures that deserved to be respected and protected. But, at the same time, he could not ignore the fact that selling fish was his only source of income and his only way of surviving. He sighed uncomfortably, feeling torn between his desire to do what was right and his need to make a living. He knew that there was no easy answer to this dilemma, and that he was caught between two conflicting realities.

"You're right," As he continued with his work, he thought about it more. He couldn't help but feel that there must be a better way, a way to balance his livelihood with his desire to protect the fish. But for now, he was forced to reconcile himself to the reality of his situation, and to accept that selling fish was his only option for survival. If only he was educated, he could've avoided this. Apologetically, he bowed his head and made a promise. "Worry not... when I make enough, I'll find better ways to earn a living. You'll have to forgive me in the mean time."

What all do you know about December Holiday? And be specific! We want details, teamaker.

December Holiday... could you mean "desshollyday"? They were a frequent customer of Netty's, probably a monster, since they would buy supplements meant for those guys. Netty would bring them up sometimes when we'd talk about work together; apparently they'd leave personalized messages every time they ordered a product.

Lemme see, they have a sister, they thought that they were leaving messages to a robot, they play on their school's rugby team, and one day, they stopped ordering. It took me a while to get Net out of the funk that caused, he was convinced that they'd somehow found "better product".

* They scoff.

Nobody makes better product than Netty; it's only because his wares are so high-quality that he stayed on the top for so long, he has- had zero customer service skills.

I imagine they just quit the rugby team. Is that what you wanted?

@mostrum​ ; continued from here.

Azul is one of the Mystery Shop’s prized patrons. Now, he’s no Kalim Al-Asim— Great Seven, he would never throw the contents of his wallet around so irresponsibly— but he is confident in his partnership with Sam. Naturally, when word of a sale leaks out, Azul is already at the Mystery Shop, hawking its wares with keen interest.

It’s the tableware that calls for Azul’s attention. Now, the merman can hardly say that the shop’s current stock is suitable for the Mostro Lounge: The cafe’s inventory is a collection cultivated by Azul himself, high-quality and brand-name. The bowl in question is not from a notable manufacturer, but that’s not why he’s intrigued. It’s the craftsmanship— The sheer artistry within each delicate brushstroke and methodology.

A gloved hand darts out to claim the bowl temporarily as his own. There may be no use for this bowl in the Mostro Lounge, but Azul supposes that it has been quite some time since he’s given his mother a gift. She would be flattered to know that her little Zullie has been thinking of her, that she found her an exquisite piece of fine porcelain…. AND FOR CHEAP!!!

Azul’s touch is not met with the coolness of porcelain. No, he feels the warmth of another body, dullen by leather. His fingers have not landed upon the desired bowl but, rather, another student’s hand. Azul’s stomach sinks— His nerves squirm, a thousand ants dancing across his skin. He wants to retract his hand as if it were flames that he had touched, but he desires that bowl!

Azul’s head turns.

“Lovely bowl, isn’t it, Mr. Deuce?” He makes pleasantries and even curls his lips into a smile. “I was unaware that you were an admirer of exquisite tableware.” Gloved digits press deeper into the younger’s knuckles as the merman speaks, his grin unshaken. "How curious that our tastes are so… similar.”

Math has never been Deuce’s strong suit, though to be honest none of the academic subjects were what he would consider to be his strong suits at all. Still, so long as the formula was simple and the problem itself straightforward, Deuce could often make due with his meager abilities. And there was no better place for a practical application than that of a sale, so really, he was killing two birds with one stone with this bowl; Headwarden Rosehearts would be proud, and if he wasn’t then Vice-Warden Clover would be. Probably.

The ceramic underneath his hand is not cold, but he feels that spark of chill all the same when that gloved hand lands upon his own. So of course, Deuce cannot help but feel himself physically startle in surprise—but the bowl remains within his grasp nonetheless, firm and unyielding. The threat presented by this third-party figure would not deter him from making his purchase, he thinks as his head and vision shift to take in this new challenger; his mother had trained him well for situations like these, after all.

…Is what he’d like to say, but somehow he thinks that even his mother’s training wouldn’t be quite enough to best the Octavinelle headwarden, who made Deuce’s skill with maneuvering limited sales seem like nothing more than child’s play with the way he sharked the market. The senior who mentioned that particular tidbit of gossip had looked almost scandalized when the information had left him, so Deuce had a feeling that perhaps the story was more personal than they had let on. But that was neither here nor there.

Pinned between a rock and a hard place, Deuce feels his brow furrow. “Headwarden Ashengrotto,” he says in lieu of a more proper greeting. Despite his wariness, there is still an underlying tone of respect from lesser to better, because even he is not entirely hopeless.

“I, uh, I didn’t know you also liked this character.” Actually, he didn’t even realize that character merch was available at the Mystery Shop until today, so maybe Azul didn’t either...? He clears his throat. “Does that mean you are also interested in the lunchbox set too?”

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Mastering the Road: Advanced Defensive Driving Techniques for Freight Truckers

When it comes to the open road, freight truckers are the unsung heroes—responsible for the smooth flow of goods that keep our economy turning. Every mile they cover, loaded down with the necessary wares to stock our shelves, requires a level of skill and focus that's hard to overstate. Yet, despite the stringent qualifications needed to get behind the wheel, there's always room for growth. Here, we'll explore essential advanced defensive driving techniques designed to help seasoned truckers maintain safety and efficiency on their routes.

The Art of Anticipatory Driving

Anticipation is the bedrock on which all defensive driving techniques are built. For truckers, this means knowing the road as intimately as the cab of your truck. It's about understanding what's likely to happen at any point and being prepared for it. Spotting potential hazards well in advance gives you the precious seconds often needed to react safely.

For instance, when approaching an intersection, don't just look at the car in front of you—anticipate what those cars will do next. Will they try to make the yellow light? Is there a pedestrian on the corner eyeing the crosswalk? These considerations allow you to adjust your speed and position,, lessening the chance of an incident significantly.

Space Management and the "Safety Bubble"

Creating a buffer zone, or 'safety bubble', around your vehicle is a life-saving principle. For truckers, it's not only about the space ahead; the entire truck's turning radius and blind spots should be factored in. This includes continually scanning the environment for potential vehicles that might cut you off or perform erratic maneuvers.

The 'rule of the cushion'—maintaining consistent space around the truck—offers more time to react if the unexpected does occur. If a vehicle suddenly brakes, you'll have the space to safely slow down or change lanes without causing a chain reaction of breaking from the vehicles behind you.

Handling Hazardous Weather with Care

Inclement weather may be a trucker's most unpredictable foe. Rain, snow, or wind can turn a familiar route into a treacherous one, testing the limits of even the most skilled drivers. When adverse conditions strike, the key is to adapt immediately.

Essential gear like good-quality wipers and well-maintained brakes can be life-saving. More importantly, though, is knowing how to adjust your driving style. In heavy rain, for example, increasing your following distance and reducing your speed can mean the difference between control and a skid. Winter may require the use of tire chains, increased stopping distances, and a good understanding of black ice. Each condition demands its own set of adjustments—anticipation, space, and patience being the common threads.

The Benefits of Continued Training and Education

The learning curve doesn't stop at the licensing office. Continued education and defensive driving courses are invaluable for professional growth. These programs can impart the latest safety strategies, regulations, and industry best practices, all essential for staying ahead in a job where the stakes are high.

By staying informed, truckers can keep their knowledge current, which is particularly important in an industry that's constantly evolving. Earning certifications or completing advanced training not only enhances safety but can also lead to increased job opportunities and demonstrating your commitment to excellence in the field.

In the high-stakes world of freight trucking, advanced defensive driving techniques are far from optional—they're a professional imperative. By becoming masters of space, time, and the road, seasoned drivers can continue to keep our highways safe and goods moving, while also preparing up-and-coming truckers to follow in their tire tracks.