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boxturret · 20 days

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One Tenth Scale Mata Nui

Mata Nui is a cool place, but did you ever feel that it was a bit...big for what it was?

The official maps put the island at 357 kio long, which if you take to be a stand in for kilometres¹, would make the island 357 kilometres long.

This lines up roughly with what we can see in the concept art: they say that Mata Nui is around the size of Denmark, the real measurement being 368km, and it matches with what we see in the Mata Nui Rising cgi video.

So that's all well and good, Mata Nui is 357km long, the GSR itself is 3300km tall, all hunky-dory, as long as you ignore some guy named Greggory yelling about how the robot is actually much bigger, but its fine to ignore him.

But now, actually consider what this means. Denmark is by no means a small country, it has a population of 6 million and would take hours to drive across by car on modern roads. Now that isn't an issue really, but in most media depicting the island its shown to be a place that can be traversed by foot or on animal back in a reasonable time frame.

But now let us look at this earlier map:

Initially the most interesting thing to me on this map was the 3rd measurement: the height of the Mangai volcano²

Now on the one hand, this was cool, now I know how tall to make the volcano, on the other hand... 23km seems pretty big.

It is. 23km is higher than Olympus Mons, the largest known volcano in the solar system, standing at only 21.9km. So that's pretty big. This made me start thinking about how far various things are apart and how long it would actually take and using some very VERY generous numbers I started plotting out how long it would take to actually get from place to place.

It wasn't very pretty. In the Mata Nui Online Game it would have taken Takua roughly 5 hours to walk from the beach to Ta-Koro, and another 18 to get to Onu-Koro using the highway. Now this would be fine in an epic like Lord of the Rings, but in Bionicle Mata Nui is consistently treated as a place people can pretty quickly get around on.

The Toa are running all over the place and bumping in to each other. Kopaka getting in to the Caldera at the top of the Mangai volcano isn't the equivalent of climbing 3 Mt Everests in a row, its just something he does. Takua travels all over the island in a pretty small amount of time, unless we're supposed to insert day long journeys in between every screen transition.

But then I noticed something. Something very interesting.

Now lets look at the two keys for the sizes on the released and the early map:

Seems pretty consistent, the sizes of the island are the same, a Toa is 1.6 bio on both (incidentally a real Toa figure is approximately 16cm tall), everything seems to match.

But then I counted the zeroes.

The old map has a kio being not 1000 bio, but 100!

You can even see it on the other version of the map.

Now this is incredibly interesting! This shrinks Mata Nui to 1/10th of its commonly accepted size! It goes from being the size of Denmark to being the size of the Isle of Man.

Which....really works a lot better! This turns Takua's trip from the beach from a 5 hour hike to a short half hour walk. This turns the cable car to Mt Ihu from a massive 70km mega structure to something that's dwarfed by real world constructions.

I don't think this is a mistake either, looking at the details of the map.

You have much finer details, such as these ice shelves collapsing in to small icebergs, whereas on the full sized map some of the larger chunks of ice are kilometres across.

One of the major things it includes are the mesas that can bee seen in many of the promotional renders set in Le-Wahi which are nowhere to be seen on the final map. At this 1/10 scale the plateaus seen would match up well with the massive mesas seen in monument valley in terms of size, but with the final size they would be absolutely massive (10 times as big if you can believe it!)

So suffice to say, I don't think this is just a case of a zero being dropped, it really seems to line up with the level of detail on this earlier map.

But what does this do to the GSR? I hear you cry, well it varies. Going by the earlier numbers it would simply be 1/10th the size, so 330km tall instead of 3300km, so still very large, but depending on the size relationship between the robot and the island it could be as "small" as 180km

The island in this picture is roughly the same size as normal, just covers more of the GSR. The final GSR's head is so proportionately tiny compared to its body that the Mata Nui island had to be very small to cover it. But in any case, a robot "only" 180km tall standing up is still going to tower over anything, its many times higher than airplanes fly, its taller than most clouds, really it would be quite consistent with this render:

So, in conclusion, an earlier concept of the island of Mata Nui has it being 1/10 of the size of the final, and that size seems to work better with what we see in various media from the time, and works better with the story.

Personally this is what I'll be going with in terms of the scale of the island going forward, as it really fits with my vision of the setting and works well with all the story and media from that time.

¹-I don't care about someone saying a bio is 4.375966487787¾ feet, feet aren't real and neither are you. ²-Mt Ihu is NOT the highest point on the island, the GSR isn't Pinocchio with a big pointy nose, this has never been reflected in any visual media.

thank you for reading/have a nice day

#bionicle #hypothesis #writeup #Mata Nui #GSR

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aita-blorbos · 10 months

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submissions are: Open! FAQ link - this includes a list of things that, if included in your submission, will almost certainly cause it to be deleted

have you ever wanted to write an AITA about your favorite fictional character just to see if anyone notices, except your character is a wizard who gets into a fight with a unicorn and accidentally turns all the fish in the river into lollipops and somehow this seems like it would be a little bit too obvious? well you've come to the right place

rules

all submissions must be fictional. for real life scenarios try @am-i-the-asshole-official

the character must explain why they may be TA. obviously, most people think they're in the right when they do things. however, like the real AITA forum, both sides must be described in detail, and your character must make it clear why they may (or may not) be "the asshole".

title your submissions. the title should be a very quick, one sentence summary of what the character's seeking judgement on in the format of "AITA for [xyz]".

keep it relevant. like real life, it's a given that some context is going to be needed before any judgement can be made, but that context should only be relevant to the conflict being described. it should not be the entire plot of XYZ media.

not a hard rule but try to avoid naming names, we think it'll be more fun if we have to guess who it's about

you can write about ocs also

we reserve the right to delete anything graphic that makes us uncomfortable, or anything that's too vague (note: one sentence is definitely too vague)

we'll be using the same system as the blog tagged above, with the original acronyms from the subreddit as well as JAH, or justified asshole. this text is a link to a breakdown of the acronyms.

if you add an image please include an image description! learn about image descriptions here (text is a link)

before asking questions (through asks, comments, or reblogs), please check our FAQ. text is a link.

[ID: blue lineart of a cat wearing a wizard hat sitting next to a ballot box labelled "AITA Blorbo". end ID.]

art by @pup-themlin

#am I the asshole #r/aita #aita #not aita

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unforth · 1 year

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Heyo Danmei Fans and Twitter Refugees!

Do you love danmei? Do you love fanart?

WELL HAVE I GOT THE SIDEBLOGS FOR YOU!

Hi, I'm unforth, and I also love danmei and fanart, and I wanted to just make a huge gorgeous pile of art and roll around in it so I've made and run for years eight, yes eight, side blogs of danmei art, all with the kind of organization and searchability that twitter can only dream of.

So, if you want to flood your dash with fanart (or if you're an artist and want a little assist getting more eyes on your work now that you're posting here - you can DM me or @/me), why not consider giving a follow to...

Mo Dao Zu Shi/Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation/The Untamed: @mdzsartreblogs

Tian Guan Ci Fu/Heaven Official's Blessing/Eternal Faith: @tgcfartreblogs

Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong/Scum Villain's Self-Saving System/Scumbag System: @svsssartreblogs

Erha he Ta de Bai Mao Shizun/The Husky and His White Cat Shizun/Hao Yi Xing and Yuwu/Stains of Filth: @erhaartreblogs

Daomu Biji/The Graverobber's Chronicles/The Lost Tomb/Too Many Other Names to List: @dmbjartreblogs

Zhenhun/Guardian: @zhenhunartreblogs

Tian Ya Ke/Faraway Wanderers/Word of Honor and Qiye/Lord Seventh: @tykartreblogs

Literally Everything Else I Can Find (especially works by Meng Xi Shi, works by Priest, manhua on Bilibili, books by Fei Tian Ye Xiang, books by Please Don't Laugh (so yes, baihe too!), and so much more): @cnovelartreblogs

All blogs run on a queue; I post at a "the queue will last for 7 days" rate that changes more-or-less every day and varies from 30 to 40 posts a day (mdzsartreblogs) down to 1 to 2 posts a day (zhenhunreblogs) and everything in between.

Note that these spaces are all ship and let ship, don't like don't interact, and pro-kink. (I won't reblog everything, but I do reblog almost everything, and even if I'm personally too uncomfortable with something to reblog it - I SUPPORT YOU.) I tag extensively - you can check the pinned post on each blog for currently used trigger warnings (they're consistent across all the blogs) and many of the other tags I use for characters, ships, etc., and I strongly encourage you to use the tags to find That Rare Thing You Love, and also to blacklist anything that's not your thing. Antis kindly fuck off challenge.

Welcome to Tumblr (or welcome back, as the case may be), don't be a stranger, like and reblog works to support artists, and have fun!

(help signal boosting much appreciated. <3 )

#unforth rambles #this got too long #I tried to find the last one of these i wrote and just reblog that but tumblr search algorithm buried it oh well #mdzs #tgcf #svsss #2ha #guardian #zhen hun #qi ye #word of honor #shl #tyk #dmbj #spl #qian qiu #tsomd #idek i could tag about a biollion things but that's probably enough #happy art loving y'all

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what-even-is-thiss · 8 months

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If you’re debating whether or not to get an MFA in writing here’s some points of interest from my experience.

If your only goal is to get published you don’t need the degree if you don’t want it. There’s ways to meet people and contact agents and self publish outside of the types of connections and knowledge you’ll get from a masters degree

If you want to teach creative writing in North America it’s technically possible to get a job without a masters but it’s extremely difficult. There’s also usually an opportunity to get practical teaching experience in the MFA program.

It’s difficult to get in these programs because the classes are usually really tiny. My program only admits 6 people a year. It’s also expensive to apply but once you get in they usually have funding available to you through work.

Making connections with other writers is a huge reason to get in a writing program. You often get the opportunity to meet visiting writers in addition to your classmates and professors. Socializing with people is actually a really important part of most arts educations. It gives you a support system of people in the industry and some people to hopefully write blurbs for your books

A lot of the work done in academia is literary writing. There’s still a potential place for you if you write genre fiction and people will likely support you in that but it’s an important thing to keep in mind.

Some schools might try to push you towards adapting a particular sort of style or mostly pick people or have faculty with a certain style. Other schools will generally have a more diverse array of types of writers and not have a distinctive style. Neither of these things is inherently better but it is something to think about when asking questions and investigating. I purposefully applied to schools with diverse and different types of work coming out of them.

If you just want a degree or don’t want to move a low residency MFA is probably the choice for you. Those are mostly online and you generally visit campus in person once or twice a year. High residency MFAs are the ones where you live and work there and are a full time student. These are generally either one or two year programs. The length of program you want depends on you and what you want out of the program. I chose a three year program because I wanted to take more classes.

You get a lot of unstructured time to write even when you’re working. If that’s important to you it might be a good place to figure out your process. It’s a lot of work but you usually decide how much you get out of it and how much work you get done.

You may be expected to teach or TA classes, give public readings of your work, or give presentations to your classes. It’s not a degree free of public speaking.

If you want to get experience in publishing a lot of masters programs run literary magazines or have relationships with local magazines and publishers you can get involved with. If you’re interested in this that’s something to look into when deciding what schools to apply to

#roman said a thing #writing

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doubledyke · 7 months

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dissociatED: ch. 1

Eddy is depressed and goes to Ed for help.

**details are subject to change cuz im essentially making this up as i go along, with a pretty vague outline.

Eddy's teal '91 Camaro rumbled through the parking lot of Peach Creek Rolladium, and stopped in the usual spot in a far corner, under the shade of a tree. For most people, arriving twenty minutes early would provide plenty of time to spruce up, get inside, and clock in. For Eddy, it was a crunch.

Booming bass from his souped-up sound system rattled the rearview mirror, making his pre-shift primp a bit dizzying. Ever the trooper, he pushed through and tousled his hair, swiped gel through his brows and practiced an unconvincing smile. Countless keychains rattled when he shut off the ignition, silencing the thunderous engine and stereo. He adjusted his seat to it's original position and threw his head against the back.

Eddy liked his job at the roller rink, since it gave him the opportunity to show off his impressive skate skills - plus the uniform was cool. But since graduating two weeks ago, he couldn't help but wonder where his life was headed. Mister Big Shot was finishing his first year in college, having graduated early; The Lump had his art and a fawning girlfriend. Eddy had...

The ashtray opened with a click and he plucked out the crispy half-joint he'd been nursing over the past few days. It didn't take a lot to get him where he wanted to be. He lit the blackened end and took a stale drag from his poor rolling job. Despite quickly feeling sufficiently fuzzy, he decided to finish it, knowing that the flavor would be even worse if it sat any longer. When it got too hot to hold, he tapped it out on the underside of the side-view mirror, then flicked it onto a pile of roaches he'd later gift to Ed.

After catching a glimpse of the time, he accepted his fate with a grumble and pulled himself out of his slump to rifle around the glove compartment for some cologne. With a few spritzes, he was ready to grace the masses with his presence. Just in case, he tilted the rearview down for one last ogle.

In his altered state, the glassy eyes that looked back looked just different enough to make his heart skip. From this angle, and in this lighting... His hands shot up to press and pinch at his features, attempting to convince his uncooperative brain that he was tripping.

Family members had often commented on Eddy's resemblance to his brother, but he was quick to disagree. He, of course, insisted that he'd inherited his mother's natural good looks, while the rest of the men in his family shared an uncomely mug. But in this drug-induced frazzle he felt unable to pull away from the menacingly familiar eyes that followed as he squirmed.

Any other time, Edd's voice nagging him about what to do would've been brushed to the back of his mind. Now he was desperate to remember what guidance his friend had for moments like this.

His chest tightened while one hand white-knuckled the steering wheel, the other clutching at the front of his shirt. Unseen hands clenching his neck made it impossible to swallow the growing lump in his throat. Now sweltering, the cabin was shrinking around him.

Five things you can tas- wait no... Was it three things you can smell? Am I s'posed to be holding my breath?

Just as his vision became spotty, he shouldered the door open with a metallic crunch. He'd barely made it over the door sill when the otherwise empty parking lot echoed with the splattering of his stress response onto the black top.

He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm and released a sickened groan. After ensuring that he was indeed alone, a shaky hand turned the key, still in the ignition. The stale air from the vents made it a little easier to breathe and gave him the wherewithal to dig his phone from his back pocket. Trembling thumbs composed a simple message to his manager.

sick cant come in

Eddy's parents were familiar with the signs of depression - after all, facial features weren't the only things their sons had in common. They'd seen many of the emotional and behavioral disturbances that plagued their firstborn passed on to their last. Despite their wealth of experience, neither were any good at addressing the issue in any meaningful way.

Eddy Sr. was of the opinion that mental illness was all a big ruse perpetrated by pansies who didn't want to get a job. The real psychos were the ones down at the state hospital who'd murdered people - or in severe cases, were cross-dressers. Of course his son was sad: he hadn't been laid in 18 years! A nice lady friend would be just the thing to help him through this transitional funk.

His mother knew better, having experienced severe postpartum depression after her first pregnancy at the tender age of 16. She knew her sons' plight but was nonetheless at a loss. Her standard offering of consolatory cooking wasn't cutting it this time. Haunted by memories of her eldest's many attempts on his own life, she did what she the best she could to alleviate the youngest's misery.

"Eddy you're wastin' away in here! Unless you're sneakin' food again, I don't see how ya haven't starved to death." She stood in the doorway, the light from the hallway allowing a glimpse at the unmoving mass on the bed.

It had been a week since Eddy's dissociative ordeal and by now the physical symptoms were overshadowed by unrelenting mental static. Recurring nightmares meant that most attempts at escaping his waking misery with sleep were a gamble. It was all he could do to get a glass of water since the once ordinary interior of his home now seemed unfamiliar and surreal. Chronically sour stomach allowing, he'd pinch from dishes of leftovers his mother stored in the packed fridge, but hadn't had a proper meal in weeks. Even showering had become an arduous task requiring intense mental preparation.

He'd worked his way up to shift manager at the beloved rink, but an inability to get out of bed cost him the only source of stability left in his life. So much for that "work family" the boss always touted. At just 18, he was plagued by uncertainty regarding his future. From what he could tell, he'd undoubtedly end up bagging groceries or scrubbing toilets for the remainder of his days. It wouldn't be long before he shacked up with a barefoot and pregnant Lee Kanker at the Park N' Flush. Or worse, he'd end up working under his dad at the dealership, wearing a kipper tie and sipping whiskey for breakfast. His eyes shot open to clear the gruesome images from his visual cortex. He was brought back to his bedroom where, after a lag, he processed what his mother said. Fifteen hours of sleep a day failed to provide the energy required to respond to his mother.

"Honey, that school Eddward's going to ain't but a couple hours away. When was the last time you seen him?" Eddy's mouth tightened upon hearing his friend's name. "Er, where's Big Ed? That guy's always a hoot and a half..." She suggested while rounding the darkened room to gather dirty clothes and empty cups. There was no response from inside the comforter cocoon. With a deep breath she slung the laundry over her shoulder and sat at the foot of the bed.

"Son, I want you to know that I love ya." She placed her free hand on what she guessed was his covered leg. "No matter if you're a queer, or if you're normal."

Eddy couldn't stop his face from contorting at her well-intentioned but clueless attempt at offering comfort. The last thing he needed right now was to open a Pandora's box of faggotry. Instead, he pretended to be asleep and devoid of thoughts about his brother, the future, being a homo, or "Eddward".

"Well, anyway, Dad's grillin' tonight." She grunted as she rose from the bed. "I'll bring ya a plate when it's ready, and you better eat it!" She knew he wouldn't, but a mother can't help but try.

Two more weeks passed before Eddy's father burst into his room to deliver an ultimatum:

"Alright son, listen up. You gotta get a goddamn job, learn a goddamn trade, or ya gotta go." The hulking man grimaced into the void of his son's room before flicking the light switch with his thumb. "And for Christ's sake, eat somethin'! Your mother's liable to have a conniption and I ain't dealin' with two of ya sad sacks." A slamming door ended their only interaction in recent memory.

Eddy rolled over onto his back, squinting at the now illuminated ceiling. His head rushed, causing spots in his vision when he sat up for the first time in a couple of days. Clammy hands rubbed harshly at his eyes while his father's demands sunk in. Still blurry from the adjustment, he scanned the vaguely familiar surroundings and let out a hoarse whine. He swung his legs sluggishly over the bed side and took a sip from an old glass of water on the night stand.

Simultaneously blank and bustling, his thoughts were difficult to organize. With no solid concept of how much time had passed, he was dumfounded when his phone indicated that nearly two months of his life had been squandered. The revelation made his heart palpitate, brought him to his feet and sent him barreling into the bathroom.

He cursed himself upon finding that the entire five foot mirror was covered by crudely ripped cardboard he'd taped up in the early days of his fugue.

"What kinda nutjob..." His voice barely cracked a whisper after being scarcely used for so long. Shaky arms pulled him onto the bathroom counter to begin peeling the blue masking tape from each corner. Piece by piece the corrugated coverings slapped onto the counter, gradually revealing the young man's likeness.

"Oof," he exhaled. Kneeling closely before the glass, he chuckled darkly at his haggard appearance. Dark circles exaggerated the bags below his eyes. Shadows of sparse facial hair further aged his overly mature face, and his naturally blushed skin was pallid. Most notable was the bit of weight he'd lost by subsisting on fingerfuls of cold lasagna and meatloaf. He raised a scraggly eyebrow at the subtle differences in his shirtless torso. The looseness of his shorts only served as a reminder of how hungry he was.

"Weird."

After shedding the rest of his stale clothing, and ensuring that the water was sufficiently scalding, he stepped in. Luxurious pressure pelted his atrophied muscles, sending a shiver down his spine. Several minutes beneath the soothing downpour made gradually him feel like himself again. The zesty aroma of his favorite bar soap invigorated his mind enough to assess his situation.

One thing was for sure, he didn't want to be depressed and on the street. Or worse, depressed and attending school. The reminder that he'd lost his job of more than two years made his heart sting. Despite threatening to walk out every other day, he'd gotten comfortable at the rink. Who wouldn't want to get paid to yell at kids?

He turned to let the water smack his face and conceded his only option.

A job at the automotive assembly plant was mindless enough; if Ed and Jonny could do it, it couldn't take more than one braincell. With Ed's referral, and due to their high turnover rate, Eddy was offered a job on the spot.

He quickly got the hang of the process once his fingertips were accustomed to being burned on the machinery day after day. The toughest part so far was maintaining his already tenuous grasp on sanity during the ten hour days.

"I'm tellin' ya! Look it up, 'queen shape shifts during press conference'. A minute thirty into the video, her eyes go all weird. I heard it's a third eyelid..." Jonny shouted over whirring machinery. "Makes ya wonder who - or what's livin' among us, huh buddy?" He nudged Eddy's bicep and let out a curdling cackle.

"Yeah, well I heard that if you hold the new $10 bill up to the light, you will see the ghostly face of H.G. Wells!" Ed added at a tinnitus inducing volume. The volley of conspiracies would often continue for the entirety of their 3:30 p.m. to 1:30 a.m. shift. Being stuck between his dopey coworkers was more likely to have him considering offing himself than the depression. Whenever he opened his mouth to protest an especially egregious remark, he was conveniently interrupted by a headrest in need of a cover rolling up to his spot on the line.

He soldiered on for two months because the pay was double what he made before. The drivel between Ed and Jonny was soon a welcome distraction from his brutal inner narration. Having a routine helped Eddy begin to feel normal again and his mental fog was dissipating. With even slightly clearer thinking, he realized that the whole "blue-collar" thing wasn't for him.

If not for his peace loving comrades, Eddy would've been involved in several skirmishes with the good ole boys that made up most of the plant's workforce; he didn't get what was so funny about knowing how to style a pair of overalls.

"Double Dee is right, Eddy. You are indeed, uh..." Ed's eyes darted while he tried to recall the word. "Truculent." He tutted, using one arm to restrain the fuming flamer.

"Truck-yer-WHAT?"

The plant itself didn't exactly accommodate a man of such short stature. At six-foot-six, Ed cheerfully offered to give his vertically challenged pal a boost if they were on a particularly height dependent rotation. Understandably, Eddy wasn't too keen on being hoisted into the air just so he could do some lousy job. It was either struggle through it, or quit entirely. Naturally, he chose the latter.

Ed and May moved in together the summer before senior year. The one bedroom hutch wasn't exactly in livable condition when her late father left it as a pathetic attempt at reconciliation. But as far as they were concerned, the house of a dead, chain smoking hoarder was an expedient escape from their turbulent home lives.

Before leaving for college, Edd insisted on helping make the "home" - he used the term loosely - more comfortable and less pathogenic. In his non-expert opinion, the structure should be condemned, but he'd long grown out of his habit of snitching. Though outwardly selfless, the project served as distraction from the anxiety that had reached a peak at the time. Overwhelming as it was, he was able to make several repairs and address the most emergent safety concerns though some of the issues were admittedly beyond his scope. He finished by decluttering and decontaminating the derelict domicile, and left behind a spare copy of "How To Clean Practically Anything" with hopes they'd build upon his work.

"This edition includes a comprehensive stain removal chart!" Edd gushed while pointing at the book's cover. The couple obviously weren't as ecstatic as Edd anticipated, staring blankly at the virtually spotless interior. He rationalized it as simply a delayed reaction. Unsurprisingly, the fruits of this labor of love were spoiled by the third month they'd been in the home. What kind of wack job wanted to clean after working all day? It was lucky for them that Edd hadn't returned for a visit in the year since.

Eddy had only been by a handful of times - you didn't need a degree to know that any space Ed occupied for five minutes would end up a sty.

"You're givin' 'em a book?" He'd gibed, watching Edd prop his gift on the freshly polished breakfast bar. "That's actually the perfect spot for it since it'll probably end up being used as a plate ."

Since he was leaving the plant, he knew it would be shitty not to accept when Ed invited him over after what he gleefully deemed his last shift.

His assumptions about the place were confirmed as he followed the path Ed was kicking through scattered shoes, an overflowing hamper, and stacks of half unpacked boxes in the entryway. The commingling of burnt bong resin, stale incense, and long forgotten bags of trash evidently didn't bother Eddy's begrimed brotherly figure in the slightest.

"Ed, you-know-who's gonna bust an artery when he sees... and smells this place." Eddy warned with a scrunched nose. He used his steel toe to gently nudge an unlabeled jug of green liquid he could've sworn was glowing.

"You're tellin' me! Maybe I will finally get to experience the dark side of the Dee..." He grinned before hanging a left in to the small kitchen, flickeringly lit by one exposed fluorescent tube. From the dust caked fridge top, he grabbed a tightly rolled bag of cheese curls, then a dented two liter from inside. Eddy waited where Ed left him, gaping at the teetering towers of video tapes lining multiple exterior walls.

The living room was surprisingly undecorated, with only one of Ed's prized posters hanging randomly. Countless fast food bags and cups littered a small glass-top coffee table. The lumpy green futon against the wall cracked under Ed and Eddy's weight as they sat together. After a short pause, the men cracked up in unison. Eddy popped open one of several un-chilled beers he'd filched from his dad's stockpile in the garage. In one breathless gulp, the can was emptied of its bitter contents.

"You heard from him recently?" Eddy asked as casually as he could while stifling a belch.

Eddy found himself talking to Ed's exposed crack as he crawled across the un-vacuumed carpet to push in the unknown tape poking out of the VCR on the floor.

"I missed a call from him uh... I think it was y-yes-terday." The last word was broken by a grunt when he lifted himself back onto the couch. Eddy watched with a cocked eyebrow while the man dusted the imbedded debris from his palms. Ed shrugged and presented an expertly rolled grape blunt. "We are playing phone tag now." He bit his lip excitedly before giving the wrap an indulgent sniff, lighting an end and huffing down an inch on his first pull.

"Damn," was Eddy's response to both Ed's impressive toke and the lack of an update on Edd. "Wonder what Poindexter's up to anyway..."

Ed was clearly not paying attention; his squinting eyes were glued to the comically oversized rear projection TV, watching the tape's pre-movie trailers.

Same ole lump.

An hour in, the slack jawed Ed was engrossed in a bizarre '80s horror movie about malevolent yogurt. At least, that's what Eddy gathered from the few glimpses he caught in his cross-faded daze. He'd been staring at the cracked ceiling through most of it with his head pressed uncomfortably against the wall behind them. Normally the two would have to remind themselves to keep quiet while May slept in the next room. But conversation had been sparse that night. Eddy's mind was at it again, now going back and forth about whether to return to the plant the next day. Of course, he didn't want to, but he wasn't sure if he should hold out until he found another gig.

He could just imagine what Edd would say: "Eddy, abandoning one's job without providing written or verbal notice in accordance to company policy is not conducive to successful employment seeking in the future. Not to mention the loss of reliable income. And-"

/What does he know?/ Eddy interrupted the hypothetical chiding. Besides, he'd managed to save up a decent chunk of change since he went straight home from work. Having hyped himself up with the fake disagreement, he huffed and crossed his arms. A sudden wave of heat washed over his body and reddened his face. It was the same feeling he got any time he and Edd would have a real argument. He felt overwhelmingly guilty that most of his thoughts about his best friend recently had been negative. The guy was only looking out for him, after all. Or it could be the six beers he'd guzzled on an empty stomach. He closed his lolling eyes, overcome by a sickening urge to expel something from his gut.

"Ed, am I a bad person?" He instantly regretted blurting out such a desperate question. It was bound to happen when he drank: he became an unbearable sap. Add to that a few healthy smacks of Ed's favorite strain, and he was surprised he hadn't embarrassed himself sooner. Being cautious not to turn his dizzied head too quickly, he checked for a reaction from the red-eyed giant beside him who was adjusting from terrible posture and blinking quizzically.

"Whadja say, Eddy?" He hollered over farcical screaming that accompanied the flashing images on screen.

"Am I a bad person? Like, I dunno evil or somethin'?"

It had been quite some time since Eddy came to Ed clawing for reassurance like this. As kids, and into their early teens, it was fairly a common occurrence. It was clear to his closest friends that Eddy not-so-secretly harbored profound guilt and embarrassment about the avaricious antics of his youth. In their opinion, he'd more than atoned for his actions when he was pummeled mercilessly in front of his entire peer group. But he worried he'd gotten off too easily. When the shame became unbearable, he'd go to Ed with a myriad of troubled questions, as if he were some sort of jaundiced magic eight ball - sometimes even giving his sticky shoulders a shake for good measure.

Once the words finally slogged from his brain to his mouth, Ed slipped into the nostalgic role with ease.

"My sources say no." Two index fingers raised to accentuate his judgement.

"Then I'm a loser, right?" The futon creaked with the sudden movement of Eddy scuttling across the cushion to cling firmly onto the pilled fabric of Ed's hoodie. The stench of alcoholic breath mere inches from his face didn't faze the blissfully blazed Ed.

"Don't count on it."

Eddy's bottom lip bulged out pitifully. Before the malodorous mystic could get back to his entertainment, another question was posed in earnest.

"D'ya think Double Dee hates me?"

Ed crossed his arms and shook his head while the pathetic man stared up through wide eyes.

At this point in the trio’s friendship, Ed was used to Edd and Eddy’s frequent fallings-out and knew the drill: they’d come to blows, ignore each other for a while, and suddenly one day things would be back to normal. Stubborn as they both were, it wasn’t uncommon for their spats to last days, or even weeks. With this being the longest stretch of silence between his friends thus far, Ed was obviously concerned, but knew better than to press the issue. Being the middle man was easy enough, providing the occasional update when they'd inevitably ask about each other over the phone. It was only a matter of time until one of them - usually Eddy - would crack.

"Very doubtful."

Eddy's face pressed hard into his friend's chest, letting out several muffled sobs. Without hesitation, the taller man rubbed his heaving back and rested what chin he had on the accommodating dome below. His one-armed embrace tightened. Loosened by inebriation, Eddy's body melted into the claustrophobic affection. They relished the sentimentality for a while with only the occasional snivel breaking the silence.

"Aww. There, there, little man." Ed smiled and smacked his buddy's back with enough unintentional force to make him flinch.

There had been several of these moments between the boys throughout their years of friendship - something that was unbeknownst to the third member of their trio. Both of his friends were happy to lend Eddy a shoulder, but Ed did so without the garrulous deconstructing and overanalyzing. And it was way less embarrassing to cry in front of the lump.

"Am I a fag?" Eddy sniffled and slipped from Ed's painfully loving grasp, watching the trademark goofy face morph into a facetious pout. He nodded slowly.

"Signs point to yes."

#fic

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thealterscrolls · 11 months

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in a tight spot financially so i'm opening up a commission slot for a traditional art piece in this style! i use mechanical pencils, red and black ink pens, black felt tip markers, red paint markers, etc.

100 USD for white paper (9 x 12 in / 22. x 30.5cm)

70 USD for toned tan paper (5.5 x 8.5 in / 14 x 21.6 cm)

if you are comfortable providing your address and covering any shipping costs, i can mail the original to you (US preferred because it is wildly expensive to reliably ship internationally but ultimately it would be your choice if you're willing to pay that much)

will do: gore, body horror, artistic nudity, abstract, heavy symbolism, trans stuff, etc

i have the right to refuse any commission for personal reasons

payment through kofi (preferred) or paypal

(i will be moved into a place without internet by the start of next week (june 5th) so digital commissions will not be possible. i will not be convinced to do one because i cannot deliver the results)

i may open more slots in the future if this goes well, so don't worry if you can't commission me now

dm me here or on discord to discuss (discord preferred. dm for tag if you don't already know me on there)

#commissions open #art commissions #commission info #artists on tumblr #gore #body horror #tw eyes #scopophobia #ommetaphobia #blood #vampire #skulls #macabre #horror art #has id #tas caspian #tas system art

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olderthannetfic · 7 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/728886929370857472/httpswwwtumblrcomolderthannetfic728767139305

Agree with this. I mean I’m an academic who in grad school was often in discussions with people who were Terminally Online, but the dumb ways they applied tumblr discourse in class were usually the least of their problems (as in they were often awful people in their ACTIONS outside of class. That said I’ll never forget the person, who was not a gay or bisexual man himself but was a straight trans man who acted like that identity meant he could speak for the entire LGBTQ community based on stuff he read on Tumblr and never doing the actual class reading, claiming that the way Wayne Koestenbaum described gay man’s attachment to female opera divas in The Queen’s Throat had “consent issues.” This was a guy who later got investigated by Title IX for graphically discussing his sex life with other grad students, including female TAs when he was a student instructor).

But I think where I saw the most obnoxious and insidious ways that Tumblr discourse shit infected irl academic discourse was you’d have some older academic who wasn’t super online but cared a lot about social justice and wanting to do the right thing, and would hear about some concept third hand and think it sounded good and not have the broader context a regular Tumblr, Twitter, etc. person would have to know why it wasn’t, or that the person behind it was abusive or didn’t really know their stuff (I’m thinking about stuff like Medieval POC being promoted by academics who just liked the idea of highlighting more instances of POC in pre-modern European history, didn’t know that the person behind it was a racefaker with a history of deeply racist statements, and weren’t specifically art historians or really digging all that deep into her posts to know that she was getting some basic stuff wrong). My frustration a lot as a grad student who is familiar with Tumblr, and with the feminist blogosphere of the late 00s/early 10s before it where a lot of “Tumblr social justice” first developed, was trying to explain that there were people within that culture who were pro-SJ and feminist and antiracist and so on, and from marginalized groups themselves, who had legitimate objections to these concepts being applied to academia that didn’t come from unfamiliarity or “college students just need to grow up” style thinking that you saw in Jonathan Chait style thinkpieces.

For instance, I objected to and continue to object to “mandatory trigger warnings” because I’ve read about and seen in action how they’re often used by students to box in female and POC faculty — already disproportionately hurt by student evaluations — for not running their class or discussing issues of race, gender, etc. in a way that perfectly fits their ideas from Online Discourse. They’re harder on us for this than similar white male faculty, especially older ones, and older white male allies need to be more aware of this when they extrapolate from their own experiences. (Also students IME will get way angrier if a film by or about marginalized people is “triggering” even though it’s impossible to show some aspects of systemic misogyny or racism on screen without doing that — think movies like Do the Right Thing — than they will a similarly “triggering” film by and about white dudes that has no larger Social Point to Make with its triggering content. And I say this as someone who always gives students a heads up beforehand, but some really think that those movies shouldn’t be shown AT ALL and I’m increasingly getting students asking me to accommodate trigger warning requests for vague Tumblr stuff like “unreality” and I’m so tired.)

Thanks for letting me rant about “Tumblr SJ” and academia in your inbox lol

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cugareal · 3 months

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lrt. ssometimes i think about how i exited the public education system right before ford dramatically cut education funding and mandated a certain number of online courses and cut important science and art courses in favour of "job readiness" courses. and i think about how i'm seeing the real time impact that has on students who are admitted to my university who i am now TAing and guiding on projects and how they don't have the same idealistic glint in their eye that my class did in 2nd year

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little-diable · 10 months

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I’ve decided to add a collection of my smutty professor fics, since this list will definitely keep on growing. Please remember that I am not allowing you to edit or copy those fics to other platforms.

Professor Aaron Hotchner

Profiling 101 (Series, Prof!Hotchner)

The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Professor Tom Holland

Tides of Drowned Affections (fake dating, smut)

The reader has never been close with her family, but when she's ordered to come home for her sister's wedding, (y/n) is in need of a helping hand. Or: When a panic attack is the reason Professor Holland takes on the role of the reader's boyfriend.

Distraction (smut)

After years of being professor Holland’s student, the reader finally finishes her studies and joins the team as a young professor – allowing the two to finally give into their teasing.

The Painting (smut)

Professor Holland takes his students on a trip, exploring art galleries, admiring paintings he can barely spare any attention to, mind fully focused on her, the student he found himself. drawn to like a moth to a flame

2am Texts (smut)

An unknown number texts Tom in the middle of the night, forcing his attention away from grading his stack of exams. And somehow he finds himself obsessed with the stranger that keeps holding contact with him.

Lovers like Orpheus and Eurydice (smut)

Professor Holland hates the reader, and she hates him. But when she applies for the position as his TA, things start to change and somewhere along the way - between an argument and spending the night together - they fall for one another.

Professor Tom Riddle

All to myself (smut)

Another student tries to touch the reader, so Professor Riddle has to remind his TA that she is his, only his. Pwp

Professor Benedict Cumberbatch

Summer Retreat (smut)

Mean prof!Benedict and the reader are forced to cross paths on their vacation, the vacation he used to read her dissertation.

Lucky Shirt (smut)

Professor Cumberbatch was perfect. He was sweet, supportive, ever-willing to help. He was attentive and loved to praise your achievements. It came to no surprise that you had ended up trying and succeeding at becoming his favourite student. The two of you had become an unstoppable duo, however, could there be more than mere passion for academia behind it?

Abide by my rules (smut)

Professor Cumberbatch can’t quite stop thinking about the most mediocre and obnoxious student he has ever had to supervise.

The secrets our notes tell (smut)

The reader had always crushed on professor Cumberbatch, the man that treated her without any kindness dripping from his words, clearly signaling his annoyance with the woman. And yet, both are forced to work together, but perhaps he’s the reason for that forming teamwork after all.

Tea and Cologne don’t mix (smut)

Professor Cumberbatch has always admired the reader’s intelligence and as she joins him as his new TA it doesn’t take long for them to give into the pull they feel inside their burning systems.

Professor Tommy Shelby

Drunken Longings and Sober Actions (modern!prof!Tommy, smut)

The reader takes on the position of Professor Shelby's assistant, the man who is also the advisor of her PhD thesis. How long can the two endure to be around one another before they finally give into their longing?

The Book Thief (modern!prof!Tommy, smut)

Professor Shelby is taking his students on a trip, a trip that ends up with his book stolen by the reader – perhaps this is what they’ve needed to finally get closer.

The Vote -Professor!Tommy (smut)

Another vote is coming up, allowing the students to pick their favorite professor. He would always win, leaving her behind on 2nd place, but she’s determined to win this year. But Tommy is determined himself, though not about winning, but about finally pulling her in.

Sharp Like Tybalt’s Blade (Professor Tommy, smut)

Professor Shelby and the reader fuck in his office.

Professor Carlisle Cullen

Ruin Me (prof!Carlisle smut)

Professor Cullen eats the reader out after coming clean with his feelings.

Teaching Assistant (prof!Carlisle smut)

This is basically pwp, the reader helps Carlisle grade some essays and they fuck.

Professor Draco Malfoy

Professor Malfoy (smut)

The reader works as Professor Malfoy's TA, a man she had been crushing on ever since meeting him at Hogwarts all these years ago; but kind of just pwp

Hate Me - Professor x Professor (smut)

(Y/n) had always hated Draco, or at least that’s what she likes to tell herself. But now they have to share a classroom, teaching a lesson together, forcing the two to cooperate.

Darkness Whispers To Us (smut)

Plain porn, they fuck in his classroom

Professor Damon Salvatore / Klaus Mikaelson

Just A Dream - Prof!Klaus x fem!reader x Prof!Damon (smut)

Maybe she shouldn’t have told her friends about the things she’d like to experience with her two hot professors. But maybe it was time for her dream to become real

Professor Loki

On My Mind (professor x student smut)

The reader drunk texts her hot professor - who is awfully delighted by the picture she has messaged him. Perhaps (y/n)’s drunken self didn’t embarrass herself as much as she had feared.

Beautiful like Halley‘s Comet - Prof!Loki (smut)

Professor Laufeyson saves the reader from her ex-boyfriend, followed by some filthy smut in his classroom.

#professor fic #Tom Holland smut #benedict cumberbatch imagine #Carlisle Cullen smut #Klaus Mikaelson smut

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theoutcastrogue · 10 months

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Is Stealing a Work of Art Ever Excusable? One Master Thief Claims Yes The world’s greatest living art thief is likely a 52-year-old Frenchman named Stéphane Breitwieser, who has stolen from some 200 museums, taking art worth an estimated total of $2 billion. While working on a book about him, I interviewed Breitwieser extensively, during which he discussed the details of dozens of his heists—and also expressed the brazen belief that his art crimes should be considered forgivable. But only his crimes. Breitwieser said that he didn’t even like being called an art thief, because all other art thieves seemed to be nothing more than art-hating thugs. This includes the most accomplished ones, like the two men who robbed Boston’s Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum on the night of St. Patrick’s Day, 1990. The Gardner thieves assaulted the pair of overnight guards, bound the guards’ eyes and mouths with duct tape, and handcuffed them to pipes in the basement. Then the Gardner robbers yanked down a magnificent Rembrandt seascape, and one of the men stuck a knife in it. Breitwieser can hardly bring himself to imagine it—the blade ripping along the edge of the work, paint flakes spraying, canvas threads ripping, until the masterpiece, released from its stretcher and frame, curled up as if in death throes. The thieves, whose $500 million crime remains unsolved, then moved on to another Rembrandt and did it again. “They’re barbarians,” said Breitwieser. Breitwieser, along with his girlfriend, Anne-Catherine Kleinklaus, who served as lookout on most of his thefts, never resorted to violence, or so much as the threat of violence. They stole from museums only during opening hours, using subtle diversionary tactics that permitted Breitwieser to make things disappear, magician-like, from walls or display cases, while carefully avoiding security cameras and alarm systems. The couple escaped by strolling out a museum’s front door, the artwork usually stashed beneath Breitwieser’s overcoat.

#art heist #exemplars #Stéphane Breitwieser #art #thief #practice

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hazbinextgeneration · 5 months

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Housed Hearts Ch5 Protecting Investments

(Warning: A random REALTOR attempts to kidnap Rose. Art's by me.)

-THIS SPANS OVER A FEW WEEKS-

Rose did indeed call in later that night and casually ask if there was any REALTORS located in her neighborhood. She was surprised when the person answered no. That either meant that Mr. Maison Talo wasn't registered with their systems or whoever was researching this place was doing a bad job of doing it. Either way she decided not to out Maison just yet. If he himself hadn't made himself known to the Mayor's office then he probably had his reasons...Then again maybe no one else knows about him being a REALTOR here. She could potentially let innocent people get eaten or put them in possibly danger if she didn't at least leave a message. She needed more time to think about this or how to approach this subject which... Wasn't exactly easy. Anyone else would obviously point out that it would be better to tell someone and she'd be inclined to agree to that but...There was something holding her back. Perhaps it was out of courtesy that he hadn't literally tried to pluck her off the street. True he tried to convince her to come inside for very obvious reasons but he hadn't done anything that made him an out right threat or danger to herself. And could Maison really be a threat if he only tried to eat people by convincing them to step inside his house? But what if eventually his hunger got to the point that he did do something extreme? All these questions were making her head spin. But eventually she had an idea. Why not ask for the opinion from a fellow REALTOR about it all?

"Gee, pal. That sure sounds like a problem you got there."

"No kidding. The problem is that he hasn't done anything..yet. But with the current REALTOR problem and him being hungry enough for me to literally hear his stomach growling ALL THE TIME I'm not too sure how long he's going to last. At this rate he'll either starve to death or snap from hunger."

Currently she sat down on Heim's fleshy sofa and held her head in her hands after she made him finish digesting a giant box of food she brought over. Heim's lure laid dormant but his voice echoed throughout the area.

"If I told this to anyone else that would possibly put Maison in danger if he isn't already. That's why I wanted to ask your opinion. What do you think I should do?'

There was a long silence before eventually he spoke again. "Gee..Uh..I'm not sure. Never heard about anything like this happening before ta be honest."

Rose groaned facepalming. "The main problem is that he's hungry and obviously not eating enough. That's worrying me the most. His urge to eat might eventually take over his ability to think clearly. How do I fix that?"

"Well...I'm not sure about him but for me it's always been pretty simple. I'm not a really big house so it doesn't take a whole lot to keep me full, and you've been feeding me a lot of extra stuff so I don't really feel like human flesh. Y'know?"

She slowly nodded. "That's true..but you don't rely solely on me to feed you. You can get food yourself that isn't human flesh and you get a giant serving each month." She specifically remembered all the fast food containers that once littered Heim's lawn. "You're also not as high strung on your pride as he is, and like you said you're not addicted to the taste of human. I don't know so much about him."

"Well....The main problem is him being hungry right? Why don'tcha y'know just give him food too?"

"I don't know if me feeding him will make him let up on eating humans...but keeping him from starving himself would probably be better for everyone involved in the long run." She looked up with a sigh.

"Then what are ya gonna do?"

"....I'm going to make a call to Ivy and then I'm going to go shopping."

The drive back from Heim's felt a lot more stressful than usual and the giant basket of freshly bought food sitting next to her felt heavier than normal. How was she supposed to break the news to someone that he was now within the Mayor's REALTOR systems? That phonecall to Ivy was difficult to get through. Even though Ivy assured her she'd done the right thing, Rose couldn't help but still feel guilty about it all. However there was no going back now. She only hoped Maison wouldn't be too made and forgive her eventually. Eventually she had arrived in front of the familiar home and got out. Now the real weight of the basket was known to her arms which felt noodly compared to the rock in her stomach. She stood there for the longest time before inhaling and steeling herself in order to gather the courage. And walked up to Maison's door. With a firm hand she reached out and knocked loudly on the door to make her presence clear to him. He had to be home. She didn't see any lure cord leading out from the door. She stood there for a long moment waiting before eventually the doorknob twisted and the door opened revealing the man inside.

Maison blinked down at her before smiling as expected. "Ah. If it isn't the buyer next door. I wonder what brings you this time. Have you changed your mind about coming to see my new decor?"

"I'm not going inside." She was blunt before taking a breath and relaxing herself as much as she could. "I came to talk to you about all the stomach growling I've been hearing."

He blinked. "Ah. A noise complaint. I do apologize if it's bothering you, but some things are out of my hands."

"I know...And I'm here to fix that." He looked confused until she forced the giant basket of food into his arms making him stare at it for a long moment before looking back at Rose in confusion. "I spoke with one of my bosses. She's from the Mayor's office." That got his attention real quick as his eyes snapped open widely. "I really didn't want to tell anyone!" Rose quickly held up her hands. "I promise you I didn't! But by this rate I was worried you'd starve or try to do something dangerous."

He continued to stare blankly at her before slowly looking back at the basket then back to her. "You...worried about me? Forgive me for being so blunt but there's really not a lot of people whom really are. I'm fact most humans wouldn't probably mind seeing me wasting away."

"Well I'd rather NOT see someone die of starvation. Just because you're not human that doesn't mean you don't have a right to eat. To LIVE." He again looked up surprised at her statement. "Look. Whether you like it or not you need food and you're not getting it by your own methods. You may not want my help or anyone else's but if it means you won't starve then I can live with that. Starting next month you'll be in the Mayor's program and start getting regular feedings. I'll be the one who's going to give them to you since I called it. But you can still be a REALTOR. By all means!" She threw her arms out. "Keep trying to get buyers! Do whatever you usually do! I won't stop you from trying to do what you've been doing for years! But what I won't do is sit by and watch you starve yourself for your pride...I am deeply sorry, Maison. Really I am. But I'll make it up to you. Until you can get your first feeding next month, I'll give you a few bags of food myself. It probably won't fill you all the way, but it'll certainly help with your hunger." She heaved out a heavy sigh before crossing her arms getting that all off her chest. "Now..What do you say about it?"

Maison couldn't speak. He just...stood there stunned continuing to stare at her for a long, long...LONG moment of silence. Before he eventually looked down at the basket he held. Maison hummed before he reached inside eventually. Rose watched curiously and silently as he shifted through it slowly as if inspecting everything. Once and a while he'd pull out a random cucumber or pineapple and held it up closer to his face narrowing his eyes before moving on. Eventually he stopped and stared at it again. Then without saying a word, he simply turned around and dumped the entire basket out onto the floor. A series of thuds and thumps rang out as they all scattered about but Rose blinked as fleshy red tentacles reached out to pull them further into the depths of Maison's body similar to Heim's fleshy limbs. Her eye widened before she smiled as he turned back around and held the basket out to her.

"I will...accept the terms of this new arrangement, but only because you came to me and we're honest with me." He rose a brow at her happy expression. "Considering you hold up your end."

She nodded before taking the basket from him. "I will! Don't you worry! I'm more happy about the fact you're not going to die from starvation or something!" He blinked as she smiled wider. "Thank you so much for letting me help you, Maison."

He still stared at her before he cleared his throat and turned away feeling an unfamiliar warmth lighting up his whole body. "Well...If it means avoiding an untimely death, then I suppose I could look past any grievan-CES?!" He froze when something quickly threw their arms around him squeezing in the quickest of hugs before letting him go and backing away just as quickly.

"Then I'll bring you back more food tomorrow after I work! Is there anything specific you like?"

.... Maison slowly blinked realizing Rose had quickly hugged him and blinked again. "I...nothing specific comes to my mind. Perhaps a few..fish sandwiches. I don't believe I had them for a long while."

Rose nodded. "I'll definitely be getting them soon. You won't be disappointed I promise!"

He only hummed. "Well...I suppose we'll see."

Rose kept her promise. But he supposed he wasn't around whenever she stopped by because when he did return from finding some hopefully interested buyers near a train station, he found a large box waiting for him on his doorstep and inside again was a rather large assortment of random vegetables and strangely enough a random small paper bag. Upon further inspection he had found exactly two filet o'fish sandwiches just as she promised. They smelt like a few hours old. So it began. He'd return random times in the day to either food already waiting for him or Rose showing up with a bright smile to deliver it right to him. He was skeptical at first. Of course he was but...he couldn't deny this little arrangement was clearing up some hunger pains he's been feeling for a while. And then his first feeding came and...it wasn't...too bad he supposed.

But it was still a little embarrassing and degrading that the number one REALTOR was getting assistance from someone.

Seriously! He could've done this on his own!! ...But he supposed the benefits of having a clear head without having hunger nag at him was worth it all. He certainly was thankful for the newfound clarity. It made conducting business a lot easier! However he wasn't expecting to run into a peculiar sight while looking for potential buyers. He figured a newly constructed apartment building in town was the perfect place to scout out people looking for new places to live. And what better way to stir up a few new buyers than to advertise himself to people currently looking for a home? If he's lucky he'll at least get one of two buyers. However he wasn't expecting to run into a certain red haired woman while there. He saw Rose but she didn't see him.

She was a little busy pulling out what looked to be young flowering bushes from the back of that old pick up truck of hers and handing them over to a man who took them from her and placed them on the small lot of land in front of the new apartment building. ...Oh. She must've been delivering some flowering bushes to be planted in front of the apartment complex. She had mentioned that she worked for a rather large greenhouse after all. She didn't notice him however as he stood across the road and up from her. Naturally she wouldn't notice him as she was working. Eventually she had the man (probably the landlord for the apartment complex) sign a form presumably for the delivery of said plants before turning away from him to close the back of her truck. Ah. Good. She'd be done soon and he could work in peace. ... However a figure caught his eye and it was one whom was quickly approaching her with a familiar looking tube like cord dragging behind them.

....He quickly decided to approach.

"Hello there!" Rose jumped and whirled around to stare at a random man just standing there smiling widely at her. "Such a lovely day for a drive! No doubt you've been scoping out the fancy new complex constructed right here in our beautiful city of work!"

She blinked at the new comer before smiling and waving him off. "Oh no. I'm not looking for anything. Besides I already have a house. But I'm sure you'll find someone interested eventually." She politely said before turning around.

Only she was flung back around and grabbed harshly by the arm which had her freezing in her tracks. "Ah. But I have a small business deal. Just. For." With each word he added emphasis. Gripped her harder. And tugged her farther towards him. Her eye widened. Pupil shrinking as he stood closer to her now. "You."

Rose stood there frozen as her breath picked up. And a hand clamped down on her shoulder. She squealed and snapped her head around to face the newcomer along with the stranger and both froze at a figure much taller than the both of them. A strained smile stretched across the face of a REALTOR.

"Pardon me." Rose never felt such relief seeing a scary figure looming over her. "But that happens to be my dear provider you're so roughly grabbing so rudely." A firm pull instantly removed her from the man's grip and against Maison's side whom leaned over to almost get in the man's face. "You'll excuse me if I protect a few of my investments."

The man stared at Maison wide eyed, then at Rose, then back to Maison.. Before frowning but calmly taking a few steps back and eventually turning to walk away entirely. She waited until he had completely disappeared into the crowd before sighing in relief and halfway leaning against him.

"Maison." He stood right back up and released his grip on her shoulder to return his usual position but remained frowning as she turned to look up at him. "Boy am I glad to see you. What are you doing here?" Her head then turned to where the man had disappeared off to. "And who was that?"

"THAT my dear provider happened to be the barbarian of my kind you've heard so much about. The ones who wished to swoop you up for none other than a cheap appetizer." A shudder of horror went through her. "As for me I was merely working and happened to pass by seeing a fine young lady being pushed around by a barbaric fiend. I couldn't pass by knowing that my dear provider was in danger."

Rose gave a sigh before looking back up to him with a smile. "Well I sure am lucky you were passing through. I think you just earnt yourself a couple more fish sandwiches." He chuckled at her smiling. "I'm serious. Who knew that handsome face of yous could be so scary.~" she half playfully half flirtatiously giving a playful push to his side

He blinked at her motion before clearing his throat and turning his head away to hide the faint pink on his face. "Well...You ought to be more careful especially in these times. I wouldn't want my d-dear provider to be harmed."

"Did you just stutter?"

His smiling strained. "....The fear must've worried you silly."

Amused not she nodded. "Uh huh. Alright. Well thanks again but I think I should be getting back to work before my bosses yell at me for being late."

"Ah. Perhaps you could give myself a call when you do. I would want to know if my provider was in need again."

"That might be a good idea but I don't have your number."

"Never fear. That is easily curable!" With that he quickly swiped his card from his pocket and held it out to her. "Here you are! Just be sure to write it down before the card disintegrates."

She rose a brow amused. "Well.. I've been asked for my number a few times but this is the first time a man's offered me his." Maison again paused as she plucked it from his with a playful smile. "We haven't even had a first date yet. Although I guess I have taken you out to dinner with how much I feed you.~"

"N-Now cut that out!"

Rose only giggled again at his flustered state.

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