#I take it back my list thus far is perfect. you are the problem

[obstinaterixatrix]

should I start scheduling the recs for midnight? well no I like the satisfaction of hitting post and also I’m always awake anyway. everybody, read women

[redbullcateringfiction]

Chapter 2 -

Cantata

Arabella is the executive assistant for Mercedes Team Principal Toto Wolff. 10 years into her career, it looks like the tide is changing, and she's beginning to question her relationship with him. Is it something more, or nothing but an idea lingering in her head?

F/M, Fluff, Boss/Employee Relationship, Romance, Pining, Love, Slow Burn

Second chapter below the cut or click here for AO3

Click here for the previous chapter on Tumblr, and click here for a list of all chapters

(Total: 7270 words thus far)

“How long have you been with Mercedes?” Mr. Wolff asked me.

“2 years at this point,” I nodded.

“And prior to that?”

“I was a personal assistant for an acting agent at United Agents,” I answered. “Prior to that, I received a Level 5 executive assistant diploma and project management diploma at Souters in the Netherlands.”

“What languages are you fluent in?”

“German, Dutch, Arabic, English, and French,” I explained.

“Arabic…that’s helpful,” he nodded.

“Yes. There was a continuous call for an executive assistant in the marketing department who spoke Arabic when I first applied here. I thought I’d be a good fit.”

“You only have 5 years’ experience at this point, and only 2 in Formula 1. Would you be prepared to take on the level of responsibility that this comes with?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Wolff, I’ve made it through 5 rounds of interviews and 4 exams. I have yet to fail a single one. This might just be what I was made for.”

Mr. Wolff looked up from his note pad and smirked. He seemed to think for just a moment, and then looked me in my eyes. “I agree. Can you start next week?”

~

“There’s a 90-day trial period when you first begin. If we decide to proceed, you’ll sign a formal employment contract for this role. If we don’t, returning to your role in Marketing will still be an option. If this role re-opens, you can re-apply in a year. Do you understand?” The HR manager asked me.

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Do you mind if I say something…off the record so to speak?” He asked.

“No, no problem. Go ahead,” I nodded.

“This will be very hard. And you’re quite young. What, 25? You’ve been here for 2 seasons. We’ve only really been this team, like this at least, for 3 seasons. This will only continue to get harder. With Haug gone, we’ve got this new guy. You’re not just his assistant, you’re going to act like his curator with everyone else. You’re going to be the one really driving this connection. Afterall, you’re the one who plans every step of the day. If you leave during those 90 days, you get to take home 50% of your salary to keep you from going to another team. If you leave after 6 months, you get to take home 100% of the salary for a whole year. I’m just saying, you won’t struggle if you get tired of this.”

I thought for a moment. Was he telling me to leave or was he telling me I could? Was this a warning or a recommendation?

“Thanks,” I answered. I picked up my new badge off the desk. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

~

“It’s the end of the 90 days, Ms. Lazaar,” Mr. Wolff said, sitting me down at his desk. “Let’s have a talk.”

I could feel my forehead dripping beads of sweat. I hadn’t been perfect. Not at all. But I’d been pretty darn close. I have no clue what the threshold is for failure. That’s not something I was entirely used to. Executive assistants frequently find themselves doing this for years. If this didn’t work out, I don’t know if I would want to go back to marketing. I had spent the past 3 months in different countries, watching races from the pit practically. I experienced Formula 1 at a level I never imagined. Going back to sitting at a desk answering phone calls wouldn’t cut it anymore. This felt like it. And there’s only so many teams. There are only so many jobs just like this with my skillset. If this didn’t work out…well…I’d probably be at a bank by next year.

“How do you think you’ve done?” He asked. I hated questions like these. What was the point? You already know how I’ve done.

“I think I’ve done well. I haven’t been perfect. The first two weeks were hard, but after that settling in was easy,” I explained, with a small white lie about the ease. Nothing about this was easy.

“Easy?”

“I may have been bluffing,” I quickly gave up. He chuckled in response. Suddenly the air felt much lighter. My nerves suddenly subsided. I blotted my forehead with a tissue.

“Do you feel close to burning out at all?”

Yes. “No.”

“Was that a bluff?”

Okay, maybe I had been a bit emphatic with that no. And perhaps a bit dramatic with my thinking. “A little. This isn’t easy. This is hard. This is tiring. But I like it. I think I might even love it. I enjoy it. Sacrificing a few hours of sleep makes this worth it,” I answered.

“Well, I can tell you enjoy it. I think you’ve done a great job. I’m excited to see what you do with the rest of your tenure here at Mercedes,” He smiled, passing me an official hiring contract. I signed it with no second thoughts.

~

I looked down at my Tinder profile. In several of the pictures, I had put forth an effort to show off my long and dark curly hair. My favorite picture, was of course, first. It helped to showcase the kind of lifestyle you lead to ensure you only get matches you actually like. That picture was of me, on a yacht in Monaco with Lewis Hamilton and Valtteri Bottas. What else screams “are you good enough for me?” quite like that? I need a new one though. This was getting a bit old.

“Ten years, yes?” Toto suddenly asked.

“Huh?” I lilted, looking up from my phone.

“Ten years at Mercedes for you. Coming up, isn’t it?”

“Is it? Has it been 10 years? Oh…well yes. I guess it has. I think in April.”

“April 18 th , to be exact,” He nodded.

“Cool,” I sighed, going back to my phone. I felt a hand come over and my phone had suddenly disappeared out of my view. I turned and Toto had it in his hand. This was the stuff of nightmares. There is no way in hell my boss can know I’m on Tinder. My heart jumped out of my chest as I suddenly went to reach over for it, I saw the screen had darkened. He at least had done me the favor of pressing the power button.

“Give it back,” I groaned.

“You’re so glued to your phone,” He mockingly groaned back.

“It’s literally my job to be.”

“Ah, then what are you so busy with at this moment that you can’t tell me what you’d like for your 10 th anniversary at the company?”

“None of your business,” I frowned.

“Then answer what it is that you’d like.”

“I don’t know, a pen or something? Can I have my phone back now?”

“A pen? A fucking pen? For a decade at a company, you want a pen? ”

“Yes. I’d love a pen. Now give me back my phone.”

He disappointingly handed over my phone. I continued swiping away until I noticed him take out his own phone. I looked up and scoffed, and he chuckled knowing exactly why. I looked back down and saw a profile that stood out. A super like.

Jeffrey, 40

I’m the nice guy your mom told you to settle down with, but with slightly less hair and more traveling.

Yeah, I’ve read worse. I swiped right and messaged him. As I patiently waited for a response, I looked back at Toto. I watched as he looked through the padfolio, seemingly memorizing every word on the page. I had, for a long time, deliberately put my head in the sand when it came to him. This morning though had seemed to shock me, and suddenly I found myself lingering on him. His hands turning the pages, his glasses slipping off his nose, and the way his dark eyes traced the pages I had written. In many ways, he is incredibly-Ah, my phone vibrated.

Jeffrey: Hey! Nice to meet you, Arabella. You’re a secretary?

I sighed and typed out my reply. Not a secretary. An executive assistant. “Fucking men,” I mumbled. Toto looked over with an eyebrow raised. I awkwardly smiled and went back to my phone.

Jeffrey: Oh, sorry! So, you know Hamilton?

If I were the type to cackle evilly, I would at this moment.

Me: I work with him.

Now, to let that fester a little bit. I looked down into my bag and pulled out my schedule and began making the necessary calls for tonight. It’s important to verify everything. First, the hotel, immediately followed by the driving company. I had nearly forgotten and phoned down UBS to ensure that the investors have their meeting scheduled for the correct time. I placed the necessary checkmarks in my schedule that represented ‘Yes, I’ve called them. Now it’s their fault if anything has gone wrong.’

And of course, to top it off, Bombardier. “Yes, we have the jet chartered for tomorrow morning at 8am,” Our private contact, Leanna, answered.

“Oh, perfect. And could you make sure that breakfast is ready for everyone?”

“Yes, absolutely. The usual for everyone?” She asked.

“Yes, and make sure Mr. Wolff’s pumpernickel snaps like a cookie. I think I recall it being a little too lightly toasted last time. Oh, and next week, we have that flight scheduled, too? Right?”

“Yes. I’ll send you an email too to verify all the rest of the flights for the year. But for you, Arabella! I don’t have your breakfast here.”

“Oh, I’m going to cook for myself in the morning. I’m a sucker for an English breakfast.”

“You sure?” She insisted.

“Really, Leanna. They are my bread and butter. Literally.”

She gave me a nice pity chuckle. “Okay, well, Francis will meet you at Heathrow.”

“Thank you, Leanna. Speak with you next week.”

“Obviously!” She laughed, hanging up the phone. I placed my checkmark next to the flight. I looked over at my phone and saw the new response.

Jeffrey: Oh, you work at Brackley?

You could say that.

Me: Yes.

Jeffrey: Well, I’d love to meet with you tonight and talk more about ourselves. What time are you free?

I gave it a little thought. It’s so easy to plan for everyone else.

Me: Does 9pm work for you?

Jeffrey: Perfect, how about Angler?

I’m impressed. And its close! Oh, God. Does he work for UBS? Am I over thinking this? I’m overthinking this. Why would 9pm be okay if he worked for UBS? He would certainly be at this event.

Me: Perfect-er.

Jeffrey: See you then.

I took my last glance at my phone before looking up at the driver’s GPS. 45 minutes left to go. I checked my email and did the slightest bit more work but otherwise enjoyed the little break I was getting. Every so often, I would peek my head up at Toto and watched him do little of much alike me. It doesn’t take long to read the documents I prepare, by design. I watched briefly for a moment as he Facetimed his children and watched his face beam with pride and joy. I tried not to watch for long, pretending instead that I wasn’t listening. Slowly, but surely, 45 minutes turned to 30, and then to 5. Then all of a sudden we were on the move. I grabbed the suitcases out of the trunk as Toto managed the other bags. We headed in through the large omniscient glass doors after crossing the courtyard, and I phoned down to the UBS executive assistant.

“Hello, this is Marie.”

“Hi, Marie. It’s Arabella and Mr. Wolff. We’re in the lobby,” I spoke quietly.

“Excellent, I’ll come down and meet you. Mr. Fischer will be about 5 minutes late for the meeting, but Mr. Wolff is welcome to start.”

“I’ll let him know. Thank you, Marie,” I said, right before hanging up.

“Okay, Toto. Bobby Fischer is going to be about 5 minutes late, but you’re welcome to start. Please actually do start. Don’t linger,” I explained.

“Will do, Arabella,” He sighed. He handed me my crossbody and I slinged it over my shoulder. “Ah there she is.”

I looked across the lobby and saw Marie walking towards us. The world of executive assistants is small, and we’ve truly all begun to know each other. Not all of the driver’s have assistants but Marie was Lewis Hamilton’s ex-assistant. Leaving your boss in this line of work is truly a bit like a break up, and this must feel like running into your ex’s parents a bit. I still get uncomfortable walking past the Marketing department. However, Marie was just like most of us current or ex F1 assistants. She was a hard ass. Much more controlling than you’d expect out of your typical assistant, and if I’m considered demanding, Marie is 10-fold. I don’t know if that management style worked for Lewis, but it's what a field like banking demands at times, so I imagine the crossover wasn’t as odd as it must seem. 

“Wonderful to see you again, Arabella. And you too, Toto. Arabella, meet us on the 38th floor at approximately 1:30. I can have coffee made for you at arrival. Black coffee right?” It sounded less like a question and more like a statement.

“Absolutely. See you then,” I nodded. She ceremoniously walked towards the elevator with Toto, almost like a passing of the torch. I headed outside and brought up the directions to the hotel. Just around the corner really, but I can be a bit silly and somehow get all turned around. Truly why F1 driving was never for me.

I wandered into the hotel and saw the clear signs for the Angler restaurant. I knew it was close to the hotel, but it hadn’t processed it was in the hotel. I walked up to the check in counter while sending off the quickest message to my Tinder date. Have you made reservations? 

“Hello, yes, I need to check in for Torger Wolff,” I explained.

“Ahh, for the Mercedes F1 team staying here tonight?” She asked. 

“Yep,” I nodded.

“Can I see some ID?” 

I handed over my ID and my phone quickly buzzed. 

Jeffrey: Yes! Wouldn’t dare not to.

Oh, perfect. Great. Couldn’t get any better. 

Me: Oh! Perfect! Great, couldn’t get any better! See you there.

I looked back up at her while she studied my ID. 

“Are you with the Mercedes F1 team?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“What is it that you do?” She asked, almost snidely. 

“I’m an assistant.”

“To whom?”

“Who do you think? Lewis Hamilton? Or the guy who’s bags I’m trying to drop off?” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t see you have a room booked here. How am I to know if you’re not just a groupie or something?”

“A groupie? In a suit?” I questioned, before shaking my head. I was trying to shake off what I really wanted to say in this instance. “Check the notes. It’s very clear that I’m authorized to enter his room and to check in.”

“I see no notes,” She smiled. 

“Then call your supervisor,” I smiled back. I saw her roll her eyes as she picked up the phone. Soon enough, a young gentleman walked behind the counter. He had to be younger than me.

“Yes?” He asked.

“She is attempting to check in for the Mercedes F1 Team Principal. I see nothing on here about her checking him in,” She explained. Her manager took a glance at the computer screen, then over at me. He looked me up and down, before going back to the computer screen.

“Is this your ID?” He asked.

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Please, don’t catch an attitude. We’re simply trying to ensure the safety of our guests,” He smiled. An attitude? “I see you have no room booked tonight under the block of rooms for Mercedes-Petronas. Am I to believe that you simply are here to enter his room and then leave?”

“Yes, you absolutely are. Especially considering I have shown you my ID,” I explained.

“Then why aren’t you staying here if you’re with the team?”

“I live in London. In Chelsea?” I nodded.

“That’s a long way from here,” He sighed.

“Is it? It’s like half an hour,” I insisted. “No, nevermind that. I am here to check in for Toto-Torger Wolff. I am his executive assistant. I have a badge for Brackley that I will happily show you. I have no intention of staying at your hotel today because I would like to sleep in my own bed before heading to a whole other country for testing. I would like to simply drop off his bags in his room and ensure everything is up to snuff because that is my job . Nothing else, nothing more.”

“How about you just give us the bags and we’ll drop them off in his room?” He tried to appeal to my growing frustration.

“How about I take the bags up so I can do the other half of my job?” 

He simply shook his head. I handed him my Brackley ID and he looked it over.

“Could these be faked?” He another hotel staff member who came over due to the commotion

“Fur sure they cud’ be,” he answered in a thick scottish accent. “My mukker’s git one for McLaren.”

“We won’t accept this,” He smiled at me again. The smiles were beginning to look faker and faker by the moment. This is the primary issue I find myself in being a Black woman working for what are essentially, sports celebrities. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if they turned around and asked Lewis to leave. 

“Here,” I gave up. I took out a business card for Bono. “Has he checked in yet? Give him a call and let him verify me.”

They took the card and dialed the number. They hung up after a few moments.

“He didn’t pick up,” They shrugged. 

“Fine, do me the favor of at least taking the bags then? Up to the room?” I babbled. Words seemed to be lost on me at this moment.

“I think we’ll actually not. We can’t be sure what the content of those bags are,” the manager nodded.

Please. For fuck’s sake. “I’ll see you back at 2:00pm,” I tried to smile.

I took the bags back over to the UBS offices, and took the elevator up to the 38th floor and walked towards Marie’s desk. There she was sitting scrolling through her phone.

“Oh, Arabella,” she mumbled looking up. She looked at the clock, and then at her phone, and then up at my face. She stood up and looked down at my hands. “You’re early…and you still have the bags. Was the room not ready?”

“They refused to let me in,” I sighed. 

“Again?” She questioned. I raised an eyebrow up at her. She was a pale skin tone, and had medium brunette hair that brushed her shoulders. 

“I’m black, Marie. Yes, again,” I stated as I sat on the chairs by the office entrance.

She frowned. “Let me go get your coffee, love.” It was truly the lightest voice, and kindest voice, Marie had ever offered me. She usually gives me no type of affection, even though were in the same career. I think it’s a bit cutthroat and she got used to turning everyone away. I wasn’t used to this type of response from her. She soon returned and handed me the cup of coffee, sitting down next to me.

“Well, I’m sorry about that. I know, beyond all else, I can’t understand this type of situation as deeply and as well as you. Nonetheless, I know you’re good at your job, and that this simply isn’t fair for someone of your caliber.”

I stared into the cup of coffee for a moment, really letting her response process. I looked up at her and her flat expression. A signal of care for her. 

“Thanks, Marie,” I offered a slight smile as I sipped my coffee.

“No need to fake a smile. I would call, but they’d probably pretend they don’t know who I am either,” She acknowledged. 

“Don’t worry. His bags have to get in somehow.”

“So, what have you been up to you? Outside of this?”

“Nothing really. This is all I’ve been up to.”

“Listen, I don’t miss that life at all,” She mumbled. “There’s nothing quite like getting to work at 9 in the morning, and leaving at 5 in the evening. This is consistency. There’s no jetting across the world. I mean, I can actually have a relationship. I’m getting married, for Christ’s sake. That’s not possible in F1.”

“I want none of those things.”

“Is that why your phone just went off with a Tinder notification?” She chuckled. I looked down and Jeffrey had sent a message. I think I just passed you in Broadgate Circle! You must be there for the Mercedes event tonight at UBS, right?

I quickly responded. Yes, actually! Sorry, I didn’t notice you.

“That’s for hookups,” Not for boyfriends.

“Ah, nothing more, huh?” She answered.

“No.”

Jeffrey: Oh! Did you want to push our dinner to another day? Or did you want to meet at the event? I’m a lawyer for UBS so I didn’t see much of the point of going, but I’d be happy to.

Fuck. 

Me: No, no! I’m completely fine with meeting at 9. I’m leaving the event early.

Jeffrey: Okay, great! Sorry if there was any confusion. See you at Angler.

I wasn’t overthinking! Isn’t this the best? Your anxiety being right always prevents it from going too far the next time. Obviously. Totally. For sure.

“I’ll leave you to your work now,” Marie smirked, standing up. “But I highly recommend leaving F1. What’s the plan? To be 60 and still galavanting around?”

“Presuming Toto Wolff still is, yes,” I grinned falsely. She rolled her eyes and walked behind her desk. I looked over my notes for the hotel. Everyone knew I was supposed to be checking in, and yet, nothing changed. These kinds of things seem to somehow never change. But, my checkmark reassured me. You did everything right. Now it’s their fault if anything goes wrong. That’s what it means, and it's a serious thing. 

Soon enough, Toto left the meeting.

“Have a good afternoon, everyone! See you tonight,” He smiled, shutting the door. He looked over and saw me with the bags, and gently pinched the bridge of his nose. “Again, Arabella?”

“Again.”

“Once every few years, huh,” He said, grabbing the bags and immediately walking towards the elevator. I jumped up and followed him. As the years had gone on, Toto had gradually become more keenly aware of two things: He is a celebrity, and I am Black. As a result of his growing celebritas, and my very unchanging Blackness, these types of occurrences had become more frequent. 

“So what was the reason now?” He asked. 

“I look like a groupie,” I shrugged.

“A groupie? In a suit?” 

“That’s what I said.”

Toto rolled his eyes and moved his glasses to his shirt collar.

“How was the meeting?” I offered.

“The usual. Numbers this, offers that. Etcetera, etcetera,” He waved his hand almost at the suggestion we could have a normal conversation at this moment. I took that as my sign to quiet down, and just follow him. So I did. The second we arrived to the hotel I watched as the original front desk employee scurried to the back, and the supervisor made a return. He smiled far too brightly for this moment.

“Arabella, introduce yourself,” Toto gestured to the supervisor as we walked up.

“No introduction necessary. The employee who just ran to the back introduced originally,” I smiled, even more brightly than the supervisor. I watched as his look turned a bit sour.

“Ah, well go grab her too. Was anyone else involved in this?” Toto asked me.

“A Scottish man but he didn’t really have much to say,” I shrugged.

“Oh, never mind who did and didn’t say anything. The point remains. Go grab the other two individuals she’s referring to,” He ordered the supervisor. We watched as he scurried about the backroom and nearly dragged the two out by their necks. As they approached the desk, he hid behind them like a scared puppy.

“I saw that your name tag said front desk manager, you can’t hide behind these two,” Toto complained. The man stepped from around the two employees. “Go ahead, tell me what happened.”

“What happened with what? I’m sorry, can we check you in Mr. Wolff? I’m not sure what’s going on,” The young lady suddenly piped up.

“You seem awfully scared to not know. Let me have an explanation, please,” Toto nodded.

“Well-” She began to speak again but was quickly interrupted by her boss.

“We asked her to show ID, and the produced ID appeared to be fake. So we did not allow her into the room,” The manager stated, suddenly piping up.

“So, did she provide any other identification?” Toto asked. 

“No,” The manager replied.

“Arabella, don’t you usually have a lanyard with your Brackley ID on it?” Toto asked, turning to me.

“Oh, yeah, they have it. I never grabbed it back. Nor my ID for that matter, which they didn’t mention being potentially fraudulent when I came up here,” I sighed. 

Toto put his hand out, and they handed over my identification. A Danish passport and the Brackley ID.

“And Bono’s card,” I gestured. The manager reached into the trash and took out Peter Bonnington’s business card, and handed it to me.

“So, did you call Bono?” Toto asked them.

“We did yes, but he didn’t pick up,” The manager replied.

“Oh okay, let me verify right quick,” Toto nodded, taking out his own phone and dialing Bono. “Bono, hello, you’re on speaker phone. Did you get a call from the hotel earlier?”

“No…was I supposed to?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Toto said immediately before hanging up. He just simply stared at them for a moment.

“Here’s your room key, Mr. Wolff,” The front desk woman said, handing the key to Toto.

“One for me, too,” I smiled. She produced another and handed it to me, with huge screaming eyes that said ‘save me.’ No, I don’t think I will.

“And at this moment, right now, place a note on the account saying Arabella Lazaar is my assistant and any needs she may have related to my reservation should be addressed,” Toto ordered them.

“Actually, could you tell me who made the block for the rooms?” I asked.

“That would be uh…” The manager said, scrambling around the computer. “Um…you Ms. Lazaar.”

“Is this incompetency or is this bigotry? I’m not sure which, but whichever, I recommend the three of you have new jobs lined up in the morning. And when they ask ‘Oh how did you get fired?’ Don’t put anyone from my team’s name in your mouth, including my own,” Toto grumbled. They nodded, and he turned on his heel and walked towards the elevator.

“Oh, Mr. Wolff!” The front desk lady nearly screamed at the top of her lungs. “We’ve upgraded your room to the presidential suite.”

He threw his hand up dismissively as we got into the elevator, as if to say both ‘thank you’ and ‘just stop.’ As we got in he turned to me and took a deep breath. 

“They were quite the group of idiots weren’t they? I’ll call the company behind this place and get it sorted out.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Nothing to appreciate really, these things shouldn’t go this way. You provided everything they needed, and yet they decided to still treat you wrong. That’s on them, and they should’ve known there would be consequences for their actions,” He explained. “We have our own security. It helps when the front desk at hotels also pays attention to possible situations, but at the end of the day, they’re not supposed to go beyond their liability. They took it much too far, and who’s to know if you were the first, or if they’d be worse next time?”

“I understand that, but,” I hesitated. “They still need their jobs, and I don’t want my boss turning around and using his fame to protect me.”

Toto looked up at me, and smiled. “Arabella, we have responsibilities to one another. You handle nearly every moment of my life. In turn, yes, I pay you, but I also make sure that while under my employment, you’re well treated. That would be the same if this were Formula 1 or if it were just another company.”

I thought for a moment, and while I knew he was right, I don’t know how comfortable I felt having anyone take responsibility for me. But…I suppose…everyone needs things addressed that they can’t handle themselves. There isn’t really anyone else for me to rely on. That’s kind of frightening. Suddenly, Marie’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. I almost thought I would get dizzy. I’m 35 now. I love my life, but am I wasting it? Should I be settling down? 

I looked over at Toto who seemed to be patiently awaiting my response. 

“Yes. You’re right,” I stated, a little too shakily. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked as we exited the elevator. 

“No, just stressed, really.”

“You have vacation days. You should take one,” Toto shrugged, pressing the key to the door and swinging it open. 

“I only use them during the holiday break. We’re far from that.”

“If you think of the week between testing and the first race as a holiday, then it’s right around the corner,” He winked, as he opened the door for me.

“Absolutely not,” I chuckled, setting his suitcase on the bed. I took a quick look around the room and then texted security to let them know Toto was inside the hotel room. 

“Looks good, Toto. I’ll head out,” I said with a quick head nod. 

“There’s a whole separate room attached here. If you want to change here, you’re welcome to,” He spoke without looking up from his phone. 

I could feel my cheeks get hot, so without thinking I just ran out of the room, trying to pretend I didn’t hear him. I immediately pressed my hand to my forehead. That was stupid. It was a relatively normal offer. There was nothing weird about that and yet I reacted like he asked me to jump off of the London eye. Shit. I made it weird didn’t I? Or did he make it weird? Was it weird at all? No, no it wasn’t. God, Arabella. Stop overthinking for once. I headed for the elevator and went down. As I was leaving, I couldn’t resist making a little bit of eye contact with reception. 

Ha.

Tags: @daddyslittlevillain

[cryptids--hands]

Morning With the Kremreshks

Summary: It's your typical summer morning. Kakeryn has a few things to take care of before heading to work, and all is well in his corner of the world.

Tags: Fluff galore! Found family, married life, petnames, retired, domestic, adopted children, the kids are mostly alright, proud dads, they're so gay your honor, pets

Word Count: 3,712

Notes: With my first dnd campaign (a lovely netherdeep campaign ran by @phantomfay) coming to an end this weekend, I thought I'd post a short prequel story I wrote for my PC Kakeryn before the horrors of the campaign ensued. Tada!! Bone apple teeth

 "Gulerak." 

 Warm all encompassing comfort cradled him, not as tenderly as his husband, but it was a solid eight out of ten. Still, why would he ever purposefully part from this heaven? Seems like madness to him. He was going to state his case and, if whoever was trying to interrupt him had an inkling of rationality, why they should find a nice pile of blankets and get cozy. Unfortunately, it seemed that his facial muscles were also lost in the sauce of contentedness and turned his words into a bland slurry of sounds. 

 “Gulerak, c’mon and wake up my dearheart.” 

 Seriously, what is their problem? I mean, it's one thing to try rousing someone, realize your foolishness, and then go about your day, but to repeat it? Unforgivable. His husband will be hearing about this abhorrent intrusion. The nerve of some people, he’ll have to be firmer on his stance, if only this pillow wasn’t so perfect for nuzzling his face into. Ah well, ‘c'est la vie. 

 "Gulerak." This time a hefty, calloused hand gripped his shoulder and gently jostled him. 

 Oh, oh, this meant war. What a heinous slight, what madman would be so cruel as to literally shake a fellow from his slumber? This was a matter beyond words now, he’d been charitable enough thus far, but now he needed to take action. He brought back one of his arms, rearing to strike down his new mortal enemy with every ounce of might, he thrust his hand forward and- 

 Kakeryn stayed perched on the edge of his shared bed, performing his part in a dance that has been muscle memory for years -with some recent alterations, but that’s life-. Gulerak’s sleepy delirium presented itself in a myriad of ways, though it seemed that this morning he chose violence, and with no one else around Kakeryn would have to suffer. He watched Gulerak’s arm struggle to rise into the air before lamely plopping down against his snout. He was half tempted to lick it and make Gulerak squirm, but he’s feeling merciful this morning. 

 Not bothering to pry the hand from his face, Kakeryn shook the slumbering giant, "Gulerak, my love, my sweet, my bastard. Get up and take care of the goats." 

 Gulerak’s chest slowly ballooned, barely able to gather the breath necessary for the agonized groan that resounded from him. For a moment, they were caught in a standoff as they anticipated each other's next move. Gulerak had apparently worked up the nerve to act first, flipping over on his other side, leaving Kakeryn with a solid wall of back to talk to. 

 Long overdue, Kakeryn sighed as he trudged forward with his mission, "Lemongrass won't stop staring at me through the windows, and I'm certain it's your blood she's calling for if you don't get up and feed her!" 

  In his many years of life, Kakeryn had come across creatures of all types, but at the moment werewolves were on his mind. He’s heard there are plenty of sub-types of were-creatures -wererats, wereboars, werebats, wereraven-, though he didn’t recall ever hearing about wereopossums. Maybe this would be the first of its kind, he’d have to get a second opinion, but he was fairly convinced with Gulerak’s resemblance to the opossum he had to remove from the chicken coop last winter. Deathly still, drooling, morning breath, the list goes on. He’d have to pull out the big guns to bring him back from the edge of sleep. 

 "And the girls are gonna finish your portion of breakfast if you don't get your lazy ass out of bed." 

 Gulerak huffed like an old dog before finally propping himself up on his elbows, blearily squinting at Kakeryn, "What'd'ya make?" 

 "Remember how you took the girls fishing a few weeks ago?” Gulerak nodded, “And you brought back all that salmon? I got up early to finish smoking it,” He pursed his lips at that, “And there's some fresh bread rolls, chevre, your scrambled eggs with fixings, and loads of huckleberries that the girls picked. I was waiting for you to get up to brew your tea." 

 Gulerak furrowed his brow, hands steepling like a king deliberating the most important of decrees for his council, "Can't miss your cooking." 

 "You better not. It's why you ran off with me, right? For my incredible cooking skills." Kakeryn waggled his brow, his smirk bleeding into his words. 

 "As I recall it, you ran off with me. And, uh, amongst other things..." he let the words fall from his mouth with a lazy drawl. 

 "Oh, I'm certain- hey!" Kakeryn's train of thought aborted when he felt a warm, calloused hand slide across his stomach before grasping at his hip. He opened his mouth to speak, only for a pair of lips to muffle him. "Gule-" smooch, "-rak," he tilted his head up hoping for room to speak, only for the ceaseless attack to continue down his neck, "You cheeky fucker, I'm not on the menu!"  

 Gulerak shifted closer, leaving a mountain of blankets in his wake, "You aren't?" 

 "No, but you're about to be if you don't hurry up." Though Kakeryn made no effort to part from him. 

 "I can make it quick." He wasted no time in pulling Kakeryn down with him, wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist. 

 "You… you-” Kakeryn glanced across the room as he tried to find his words, eyes suddenly landing on something that made him gasp, “Oh gods, she's here." 

 An electric jolt of panic shot down Gulerak's spine as he flung himself up to look at the doorway, no sign of anyone. He was about to get back to teasing his husband when he locked eyes with a figure in the window. Her beige face firmly pressed against it, breath fogging up the glass as soulless, vertically pupiled eyes stared into -no, through- him. It was as if time itself froze, everything trapped in an icy veneer of terror. 

 Lemongrass bleated, a harrowing rumbly sound that made Gulerak jump. 

 "Fuck’s sake!" He pressed a hand to his pounding chest, "Where did she learn to do that?"  

 Kakeryn sat upright and shrugged, "No clue, but she's been looking for you all morning. She was screaming at me when I went out to pick berries with the girls." 

 "We ought to get her a blindfold." He huffed, burying his face into the crook of Kakeryn's neck. 

 "She'll find a way to haunt you,” he brought a hand up to Gulerak’s back, clawed fingers tracing shapes against his skin, “she's determined like that." 

 Gulerak mumbled something indistinguishable under his breath. 

 "What was that?" Kakeryn made a show of listening, tilting his head as he pressed closer. 

 "One of these days I'm going to make Lemongrass meatballs." 

 "You'd burn them, my dearheart. Now c'mon, you don't want to leave her waiting, do you?" 

 Gulerak was raised a warrior, and a true warrior knows when to admit defeat, but he also knew how to commit to a bit. The theatrics he put into the exhausting tedium of tearing himself from Kakeryn’s embrace and lethargically gathering his outfit flew right over Lemongrass' head at speed that could kill twenty times over, unfortunately for Kakeryn who was also witness to it, he was not a goat. 

 By the time Gulerak had been led by Kakeryn to the kitchen, the girls had already scampered out to play in the pasture, faint wisps of giggles carried through an open window. Gulerak sagged against his husband as Kakeryn put the kettle on the stove the second time that morning, between his warmth and the small fire in the stove, Gulerak was almost ready to find a new excuse to drag them both back to bed. He took a moment to rub the remaining sleep in his eyes with the heel of his palm before softly murmuring, “How’d the kids sleep? I felt you get up again last night.” 

 “Faye had another nightmare. Still don’t know what they’re about, though. Like usual, she just clams up every time I try to figure out what’s going on.” He sighed, Gulerak could feel Kakeryn’s shoulders hunching as he spoke. 

 “She just needs time, she’ll tell us when she’s ready.” 

 “I know, I know. I just… I want to help her." Kakeryn paused, pulling in a breath, "Shima came and got me, scared me half to death when I woke her staring at me in the dead of night.” 

 Gulerak chuckled, “She got it from you, I bet.” 

 “Oh hush, you jerk.” Playfully smacking the back of Gulerak’s hand where it played with the hem of Kakeryn’s work pants. 

 "I remember those nights on the road when you couldn't sleep. I'd wake up to try and take a piss only to practically piss the bedroll." 

 Kakeryn groaned, snout scrunching as he dragged a hand down his face, "Don't remind me." 

 "I can't believe I didn't realize sooner,” a sly grin split his face, “you love sick lizard." 

 Kakeryn scoffed, poking Gulerak’s nose for emphasis, "Like you were any better, how many times did you try and serenade me?" 

"Okay, enough! I concede!" Gulerak’s surrender making them both burst into a fit of laughter, though he waited a beat after the quiet crept in before getting back on track, “They could sleep in our bed again, I think her nightmares happened less when they did.” 

 Kakeryn slouched as if granted salvation, “Please. Their beds are so tiny, I always end up falling on the ground when I stay with them.” 

 “Aww, poor baby. How will you ever survive?” Sarcasm dripping from his words. 

 “Oh, dearie me! I need a hero to recuse me, I don't think my dainty ol’ self will make it another day!” Kakeryn flung his head back, batting his eyes at Gulerak and subsequently falling into hysterics at the look of disdain coating his face. 

 He stared blankly at his husband, “And who’s the hero?” 

 “Oh, well, he’s marvelous really,” Kakeryn twirled a strand of hair that didn’t exist, “He has these broad shoulders, and these cute pointed ears-” 

 “Cute?” Gulerak deadpanned. 

 “Absolutely! His cheekbones always catch the light at just the right angles, and he has the softest hair I've ever touched.” Kakeryn’s grin was full and toothy as he talked, “Oh, and his lips, so pouty and full, they’re perfect.” 

 “Does this hero have a name?” 

 “But I haven’t even gotten to the best part! Don’t you want to hear about his perky bu-” a hand slapped over Kakeryn’s snout, only for Gulerak to recoil with a squeak when a warm, wet tongue tickles his palm. 

 “You stinking nub butt.” He wiped his hand off on Kakeryn’s pants, faux glare on full display. 

 Kakeryn rolled his eyes, slinging his arms around Gulerak and bringing them chest to chest, "You adore me." 

 "Till the day I die." He killed the feud in favor of sharing a tender kiss with Kakeryn. Another, and another. One more? Okay, just one more I swear- 

 The kettle's squeal queued Kakeryn back into the task at hand, reluctantly parting with Gulerak to pour the water into a wobbly clay mug, then moving to scoop dried ginger and herbs into a tea strainer. "Go sit, love, I'll have it ready in a moment." 

 It was an easy thing for Kakeryn to fix his plate; not to mean that he didn’t do it beautifully, he's turned the simple act of eating into an art form, over a decade of working at Marnie’s Inn only honing his skill to a deadly point. The way he waltzed about the kitchen was always hypnotic to Gulerak, it felt right the same way birdsong in the woods did. Peaceful, irreplaceable, home. 

 If Gulerak could live his life over, he would find Kakeryn as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t waste so much of his life not eating his cooking (and the dozen other things he should have done sooner, but that's besides the point). He was torn between stuffing everything in his mouth as quickly as possible and savoring every bite, though Lemongrass' distant screams made a compelling argument. 

  As soon as the food was served, Kakeryn's hands were running through Gulerak’s silky tresses, pulling apart tangles with ease. "How do you want it today?" 

 “Nothing too fancy for today,” he said between mouthfuls of bread, “Gonna be doing lots of work today.” Warm butter and honey oozed over it, amplifying the flakiness tenfold.  

 “Ah, you busybody, what have you got planned?” His claws gently scratching at Gulerak’s scalp before splitting a part down the center. 

 “The hens need new bedding, so I gotta get the old stuff into the compost.” The salmon was a rich pinkish-orange, notes of hickory wafting up as he dug his fork into the tender flesh. 

 Hair glided over Kakeryn’s fingers as he gently tugged at them, guiding over and under, fast yet meticulous, “What a shit chore.” 

 “Quite. Then I have to check on Bable again,” Gulerak paused to scarf down his eggs, fluffy and spiced with diced peppers and shallots, “Poor girl, I think her back hoof is acting up again.” 

More loose strands were being brought into the mix, gathering into something fuller, “Should I stop by Lithefoot’s and send him over?” 

 “If it isn’t a bother,” his thumb swiped at a stray crumb clinging to his lip, tongue darting out to quickly clean it off. 

 He found his rhythm, weaving like they were strands of fire. "Never. Besides, I gotta stop by the bookshop and snag that recipe book I ordered, they’re basically next to each other." 

 “Mmh!” Gulerak needed another moment to finish chewing the sweetly tart huckleberries before asking, “Could you see if there’s more of that Waggit series Fayeryn likes? She was asking me about the sequel when I put them to bed last night.”  

 “I take it she liked it?” He reached the base of Gulerak’s head, pulling the remaining hair into low bun. 

 “Oh, she loved it. You know how she is with books, she doesn’t read it unless it's about an animal. All the stray dogs come together and become a found family, heartwarming stuff, she devoured it. Good thing we got her a new sketchbook for her birthday, the one she’s using is filled to the brim with dogs.” He winced after a premature tasting of his tea rendered his taste buds senseless. 

 "Done," he said as he finished tying a red hair ribbon into a neat bow, "I'll keep an eye out." 

 Gulerak leaned back, looking up from where he rested against Kakeryn’s stomach, "Thank you, love." 

Kakeryn’s hands found their place on Gulerak’s cheeks, his world in his palms, "I'm gonna say goodbye to the girls before I head out, don't forget to wash up." 

Gulerak let out an undignified guffaw, "You wound me! When have I ever forgotten to do the dishes?" Kakeryn barely raised his brow before he amended himself, "Don't answer that." 

 "Whatever you say." He lingered on Gulerak for another moment before heading to the door, the ghost of his warmth still alive on his skin. 

 The second he stepped outside, he was overcome with the understated beauty of the forest, lush layers of vibrant blooms danced in the early morning breeze, scored by songbirds crying out with competing melodies. To his right, a stone pathway that lead past their eclectic garden and towards a bubbling brook, to his left, another pathway that forked. The shorter path curled further left towards a wooden pen, the longer one disappeared behind a dense patch of trees, offering them some privacy from the well worn walkways into town. Kakeryn had barely closed the door behind him when Lemongrass caught wind and wasted no time in making her complaints known. 

 She clambered over to the gate, nearly standing upright with how she propped herself against the fence, and began bellowing. If she was human Kakeryn bet she would have been an internationally famous opera singer, too bad she’s horribly tone deaf. 

 She could listen to reason, right? “You have the wrong person, dear.” 

 Her head tilted to the sky as she continued to sound her apocolyptic siren. Clearly, she was not in a listening mood. 

 “Gulerak will be out soon, give him a-” 

 The lack of food in her stomach proved to be a more pervasive problem than he had initially given credit for, she was clearly of the verge of starvation with how she screamed. 

 He tried to raise his voice over her wailing, “Lemongrass, please-” 

 Her hoof clacked against the hard wood as she kicked, emphasizing her argument. 

 “I can give you some scratches, how does that sound?” He pleaded. 

 She finally wavered, mouth agape as she observed him. Her ears flicked as the tense silence stretched, before deciding she’d rather not and sauntering back to where the rest of her herd layer in a patch of sun warmed dirt.  

 “Really?” He sighed, then turned onto the garden path as if he hadn’t been bested by her once more. “Figures, of course you’re only after my grain.” 

 He had only gotten a few feet down the path when noise yet again cut through the calm morning. 

 "Dad!" A bubbly shout came from beyond the garden beds, rapid footsteps thumping against soft earth crescendoed as Shima appeared from around the crops, pale yellow dress smeared with dirt and barely halting in time to not crash into him, "Dad, I found a worm!" 

 Shima's face was flushed from the expended effort, cheek splitting grin and soft eyes on display as she shoved her hands forward. As forewarned, a dirt speckled, slimy noodle squirmed fervently in her tiny palms, threatening to spill over with each thrash. 

 "Oh, what a lively guy, how'd you catch it?" He kneeled, clothed knees drinking up the remaining dew from the grass. 

 "Faye and I were looking under the stepping stones for snacks!" Kakeryn raised his brow, "For the flock! The kept flapping an' going "ba-bawk, ba-bawk" an' I felt bad. But Papa told me not to mess with the feed, so I got them a snack! Even though snacks before food is bad for your atti- apb-," her nose scrunched up, huffing in concentration "Arp- no, apri-. Help."  

 "Appetite?" He offered. 

 "Yeah! It's bad for appetites, so you're not supposed to eat before food, even if the good smells make you really hungry. But they looked sad! Their mohawks were extra floppy an' stuff too! So I went "ok, but only a little nibble", and then they got really happy, and that made me really happy! And I remembered bugs like rocks, and the stepping stones are just fancy rocks, so I flipped them over like "wa-bam" and I found lots of bugs!" 

 "Hey! I flipped them over, you just poked at stuff." Fayeryn tucked one of her loose curls behind her ear as she rounded the garden, basil green tunic rolled up to the elbows. 

 Shima twisted around to retort, almost dropping the worm, "Poking things is very important. That's how we got Dirtface!" 

 Fayeryn stared blankly, "Who?" 

 "Dirtface!" She hoisted the worm over her head, flopping somewhat less frantically now, "He's the king of dirt and he likes strawberries and he's my best friend." 

 "I thought we were gonna give him to Gerty." Ah yes, as if the roundest hen to ever roam the land could be in such desperate need for food that she needed their assistance. She truly embodied whatever feral beast chickens derived from every time a scrap of food made the mistake of being within sight. Poor Dirtface.  

 Shima whipped her hands away, holding them as far from Fayeryn as she could muster when she whined, "No! But he just became king, that's not fair." Her bottom lip jutted out, perfectly exaggerated. 

 Kakeryn cleared his throat, drawing their attention before continuing, "What if we put him in the garden instead? Then you both can help Papa feed the flock something extra tasty." 

 "Okay!" She chirped, dumping His Sliminess into Kakeryn's open palm and wiping her hands on his work pants -blissfully ignorant to his grimace- before running up to where Gulerak now stood, nursing his mug in the doorway.  

 "You going to Marnie's?" Fayeryn asked, walking up and falling into her habit of poking at the spiked scales adorning his shoulders. 

 "Yup," He spread his unwormed arm out, Fayeryn quickly nestling into the crook of his neck with practiced ease, "If you bring some huckleberries during lunch, I can make them into a sauce, it'll go well with the grilled chicken you usually get." 

 She hummed at the suggestion, Kakeryn could feel her agreement as her curls tickled his cheek. He let his thumb trace soft circles onto her shoulder as she soaked him in, birdsong and pulse acting as soundtrack until she got her fill.  

 "You raise hell for Papa while I'm out, alright?" He joked as she pulled back. 

 She nodded, a lopsided smile on her face as she fidgeted with her sleeves, "Love you." 

 "Love you too, Faye." He pressed a kiss into her crown of hair before standing, stretching his back out with an exaggerated groan as he went.  There was one last thing he had to take care of before he could set out. 

 “Gulerak, dear?” He walked over to where Shima dangled from his bicep, legs swinging midair as she giggled. 

 He perked up, taking a final sip from his mug before responding, “Yeah?” 

 “Congratulations, you’re now the head of the royal guard.” Kakeryn unceremoniously draped the exhausted worm on Gulerak’s shoulder, rubbing the grime off onto his shirt, “Don’t kill him.” 

 His face warped, caught between vague dismay and a smile, “Oh. Do I get a hiring bonus?” 

 “Sure, here,” Kakeryn leaned in, leisurely pressing a kiss to his husband’s lips. 

 Horrified squawking filled the air as Shima reacted to the rapid cootie contamination, “Ew! That’s gross.” 

 “We’re all gross.” Kakeryn grinned as he sauntered off, leaving Gulerak to handle their rebuttals, “I’ll see you all at lunch!” 

 A chorus of farewells followed him as he turned onto the packed dirt path of the town’s streets. The fresh morning sun pleasantly warm as it beamed down on his scales, egging him on for the day ahead. 

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 3/9

What am I feeling today?

Sick and nostalgic. Driving back home today and I’m going to miss pittsburgh. I haven’t gotten better though, my throat is still killing me and I’ve been coughing too, still don’t know what it is bc all my tests came back negative. Also stressed about the rest of the semester, I’m not ready to go back bc I know it’s just gonna be so much more work and idk how I’ll keep up without some sort of divine intervention 😅

Bible Plan: Healing What’s Hidden

Strength in Weakness

Depending on the context of your painful experience, your instinct may be to push back against those offering help. But you can’t win the war against trauma on your own. The enemy is too strong and too clever. The only hope you have is to let humility lead you to healing. It seems contrary to reason, but strength is found in acknowledging our weaknesses.

I don’t think I push back against help. I can be wary of it sometimes, not always believing their intentions. But regardless I latch on to anything to help me (which can also be a problem bc I don’t take the time to discern).

Paul knew this well. He experienced all kinds of hardship and trauma. This dude was beaten, stoned, and shipwrecked, all while being on the most wanted lists of the Gentiles and the Jews at the same time! He was a tough guy. No one would challenge that. Yet he didn’t boast about his strength and fortitude but rather about his weakness.

This is the reasoning behind our perfect weakness ministry. And I appreciate all that they have done for me thus far. I feel I’m at a point right now where I want to decipher my emotions but I don’t want to put in all the work and effort. I can scratch the surface level but I’m having a hard time pushing myself to dig deeper, it just feels like there’s a roadblock inside me and I don’t know how to get past it or what’s beyond it.

Humility invites others to help us. Pride pushes them away. Humility permits God to enter into our pain. Pride says, “I can do it alone.” Humility listens to wise counsel. Pride rejects the advice of others. Humility leads to healing. Pride leads to destruction.

Okay so I actually wrote a lot about this but then my phone refreshed and I lost all of it🥲 basically I went on a whole rant between my own humility and pride and I noted that I can be prideful in some areas but I try my best to be humble before other people and God bc if my way doesn’t work, that’s for a reason beyond me.

The humility required to heal from trauma is a risks/rewards scenario. You have to be willing to put yourself in others’ hands—to entrust them with your story—in order to build the loving relationships and community you’ll need to heal. It’s not easy, and it’s the total opposite of what your brain may tell you to do, but you can’t skip this step. Openness and vulnerability are what your heart needs in order to heal.

again, this was deleted🥲 but even though it can be uncomfortable and at times painful to be open with other people it is absolutely necessary and something I’ve been doing with the people around me since I was a little kid bc that’s just how I’ve been, I like to talk through everything, it’s incredibly helpful and I yearn for it.

Proverbs 16:18 NIV

“Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.”

Pride can absolutely destroy us, thinking our way is better is not the right way to go. Therefore, let’s continually (daily) submit ourselves to God and His will because we are not our own Lord.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10 NIV

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

scripture from perfect weakness. This is really great because almost daily I feel weak. I feel that I have absolutely no strength at all and can’t possibly do a thing without His help because I know I can’t. I’m like the shell of a person a lot of time and I just, as cheesy as it sounds, need Jesus to take the wheel. But again, I need to blast in my weakness! I can own up to it! I know I am weak but the reason I’m still here is because God is not weak, He is the strength I rely on!

1 Peter 5:6-7 NIV

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

He cares for me🥹 idk about y’all but that really truly means so much to me. Even when I may feel that I have no one else in my corner I know that God got me and that’s so comforting. With all this anxiety I’m feeling, I’ll just give it to God. I know that He’ll pull through for me because He always does.

[one-winged-dreams]

[Smug Au'ra Noises]

ship: saga stormsong x magnai oronir source: final fantasy xiv word count: 855 cw: suggestive implications

do y'all know what a happy alligator sounds like?

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitoslittlebird @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @sosoftandsweet @dorothys-wife

As Saga wiped his brow, his attention was driven to the fatigue that had subtly, but quite gently, crept into his being since… Noon? Assumingly? He'd been keeping himself occupied this was true, but perhaps a bit overmuch.

Retreating back inside the palace, he allowed himself some respite, leaning against one of the comparably cool walls with a sigh. He'd have much rather been sitting right about now, as opposed to resting his shoulder against the stone with his arms crossed and a pout on his face, but if he were to sit, he wasn't sure how much it would take to muster the motivation to return to his tasks.

Not that he had any specific REASON to. He made himself useful and then some on a consistent basis, but he had relinquished his wanderlust in favor of remaining here in the Steppe, and that made him…

Antsy.

The Oronir had learned quickly that his willingness to assist ranged from convenient to being a downright nuisance. Often was he shooed off to go find something else to do, and to stop fretting over every single Xaela he happened upon.

He was actively considering what else there was to be done when the sight of his most radiant annoyance had him perking. Oh, how conflicting it was to see him, Magnai possibly being the most obnoxious Xaela he had ever met, but doubtlessly so of all the MEN he had ever met.

"Oh, has his radiance come to bless me with his presence as the sun apexes in the sky? Your timing is impeccable, Magnai," he greeted, his words dripping with mockery. He couldn't help it, it was what the Xaela deserved, and the only way he could find himself able to express his feelings on the matter of their companionship.

Magnai huffed, trying to act unbothered, but possibly annoyed by the quip. "And yet it's a miracle I've managed to run into the likes of you, based on all the scurrying about you've been doing. I'm to believe your generosity has been especially bothersome today."

Saga shrugged innocently, good-naturedly even. "Well, I think I'm done for now, so rest easy knowing your people will no longer be menaced. I could always be your problem instead, you know," he teased, winking and poking the space in front of himself.

Clearly, it was somewhat of a threat, or adjacent to it at least. But Magnai only smirked, audibly at that. "A problem, indeed. Petty words be damned, it's clear that you're desparate for my attention in your restlessness. Mayhap I will indulge you."

Saga paused, if only for a second. Interesting pushback. "Oh, is this a punishment for being a bother today? My sincerest apologies, truly." His arms crossed themselves across his chest again, and though he had perfected the art of expressing himself in a manner that radiated indifference, he was a bit irritated now.

Magnai's proud stride was hardly broken, and it would seem the day would not be Saga's as per the usual arrangement. As the Xaela now stood before him, close enough that he need crane his neck to keep eye contact, he clung to the spite that fueled his composure.

"No gratitude for the generosity I express in gracing, nay, rewarding you with my presence despite your shortcomings? By all means, if you intend to spurn the Sun this way," Magnai's eyes narrowed as his smirk turned smug, "then I expect a bit more bite than you've shown thus far, Saga."

Saga blinked, his expression not faltering entirely, but clearly enough. With somewhat wider than usual eyes, he retorted as naturally as he could, "Then I must offer another apology for hurting your feelings so deeply, oh radiant Sun."

Nope, not good enough.

Reacting not, even as Magnai circled him, he remained stalwart from the hand placed upon his shoulder to the brush of the Xaela's nose atop his head.

And then came the rumble. Deep, guttural, the barest hint of a hiss trailing behind.

Saga's eyes widened, feeling his skin prickle with goose flesh as a shiver ran from the base of his tail up to the ends of his ears. He failed to keep his breath from hitching, as he had never heard anything like that in the entirety of his travels. He wasn't aware the au'ra were capable of emitting something so… Bestial.

"So what do we say, little moon?" The nickname was a taunt, as was the way Magnai would breathe against one of his ears. His teeth coming down on the fur-lined flesh was a downright affront turned merciless torture as he produced one more of those reptilian growls directly into where Saga would be able to hear it most clearly.

And the viera could do naught but tremble silently, his mouth agape and his heart, among such other things, pounding with the sort of disbelief most unflattering. "I-I…"

Releasing Saga's ear from his bite, Magnai chuckled, low and deep, but not nearly anything like whatever THAT had been. "Your gratitude has been accepted most graciously. Now let me offer your promised reward of my company… Privately."

[temptaetions]

i do not expect anyone to really see this.

but i will be posting it anyway.

trigger warnings: sexual crimes (non-descriptive), moon taeil, sm entertainment. mentions of burning sun in passing, seungri, kris wu, lucas & seunghan. [under the cut]

tldr: fuck moon taeil.

moon taeil has been booked under crimes of the sexual nature. a lot of people who know me and routinely speak to me, know that i was a taeil bias. i could talk about him at any point.

as a former taeil bias, i will say this: if you are not seeing the issue with his behavior and the crimes he has committed against women — while being the semi-singular male influence in his family, seeing as he has stated his father wasn’t very present in his life with his mother and sister — you are part of the problem.

“he’s my bias.” he is a man you do not know. kpop fan statistics state that a majority of us are women. you are a human (all of you) before you are a fan, you are a woman (for those of you who identify as women) before you are a fan. that will never change. he does not know you, he does not pay your bills — you know what he’s shown you, you pay the company that pays him.

“what if the survivor is lying?” who the fuck are you to ever insinuate that someone is lying about something so traumatic? yes, there are cases where people have lied — for clout, for money, for what say you — and these people will meet their own consequences and suffer at the hands of their own karma. you are never going to be someone who has the right to say somebody is lying about their traumatic experiences, especially over a man you do not know. guilty until proven innocent.

“his company is not protecting him.” taeil definitely made a choice to put himself in this position. never in my nearly five years as a kpop fan have i seen sm entertainment take action as fast as they did. sm entertainment is notorious for protecting their artists no matter what they’ve done — this goes for domestic abusers, sexual abusers, the list goes on. if sm entertainment of all companies is taking action like this — after taking MONTHS to address the lucas situation and the ongoing seunghan situation (see next point) — taeil has clearly done something irrevocable. there is no saving him, there is nothing to protect.

“lucas xyz ; seunghan xyz.” at best, lucas is just a douchebag. he’s not a criminal as far as we know — all we know is he was talking to multiple women at once and being unfaithful to said women. seunghan has been ostracized from his group for having a girlfriend and smoking. god forbid a kpop artist can’t/won’t fulfill your parasocial relationship because he has an actual person he’s connected with emotionally. sm entertainment has been actively ignoring pleas from riize’s fans to bring seunghan back or at least acknowledge his existence.

“think about his idol image.” taeil himself was not thinking about his “idol image” when he committed the acts and performed the behavior he did. he is a human being, he is not perfect. he is not an idol, idols would be someone who is perfect. a lot of kpop fans have begun mistaking that, forgetting that these people are selling you a fantasy — aiding in the romanticization of parasocial relationships with men who do not know you and in a lot of cases, are much older than you. you are allowing this fantasy to brainwash you — thus creating unhealthy obsessions and making you, yet another human being, forget that no one is perfect.

“he cannot operate the same way as regular people because of his career.” this is not a fucking excuse? there were so many other choices he could have made. sleeping around with consenting parties would have been acceptable. he chose to engage in this predatory behavior. he chose this, knowing that the most he would get under the korean legislation is a slap on the wrist.

“he’s a man, he has needs/urges.” again, this is not a fucking excuse? being a man doesn’t put you above the law, being a man does not put you above asking for consent and acknowledging if it has been revoked. anybody who sleeps with anyone has to know that consent is in the hands of both parties and can be revoked at any point in time.

“i love him. i will defend him.” schedule a lobotomy, babe. the parasocial relationship you have formed with this 30-year-old man who was and continues to be very aware of his own actions is severely unhealthy. he’s not your boyfriend, he’s not your ‘oppa’. he’s nothing to you but a stranger you look up to because he sold you a fantasy — a fantasy where he is a dream, where he is a sweetheart, where he can do no wrong.

romanticization/fetishization involving kpop fans & artists: when you, potentially a foreigner, are thinking of moving to korea to find your ‘oppa’ or your ‘seoul-mate’ — remember you are fetishizing an entire people, country & culture. remember that you are a foreigner, and the law in korea does not extend to protect you as much as you think. “they have a bus seat for pregnant women, they must care.” they don’t. stop romanticizing a country and its people based on the fantasy-filled media you consume and they mass-produce. take into consideration how sexual assault, even to the degree of the burning sun cases, only went as far as giving seungri (lee seunghyun) three years in prison and was later commuted to only serving eighteen months. eighteen months of prison (really, 17 months and 28 days) served when there was years of pain and brutality behind closed doors, and thousands of victims and families affected by his behavior and everyone involved.

xenophobia involving the above mention parties: this being said, moon taeil being a sexual predator (amongst lee seunghyun (seungri), kris wu, and others involved in sexually predatory behavior as well as the burning sun fiasco) is not an excuse to be xenophobic/racist. these are two separate topics, and them being shitty people does not mean YOU have to be a shitty person.

all of this being stated as professionally as possible, i am taking this moment to say that the spellbound secrets series [stray kids] has been postponed until further notice, as well as the gentleman [seo changbin] and any other potential works i may have discussed either here or in my servers on discord.

i will be taking a step back from kpop and kpop content as a whole, and will be unreachable for the next month.

i still love my groups. it is a pity, to say the least, that i cannot comfortably stan my groups because i know that this is the type of shit that goes on behind closed doors. i am in no way saying that any of the groups i stan are guilty of anything, that won’t be for me to know until it comes out.

what i am saying, is to remember your morals above all. you are a human being before you are a fan, and it could have been you. it could have been you, being hurt and traumatized and threatened. have some basic human decency, remember that kpop is a hobby and should never come above you as a person, or interfere with your beliefs.

we are all survivors of something. we are all trying our best. be kind to one another and enjoy each other’s presence. never stop fighting for those who have been wronged, no matter who is involved. we all deserve justice, every single one of us.

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector’s Edition: Redux II Samantha Was Real

My own personal belief is: Redux II Samantha was the real deal. Of course, I have to be blind to the events in Closure... which is just fine by me, as it was a mess and a half. HOWEVER: for those of the Closure-minded, these fics are the best I’ve read-- thus far-- that deals with the “what if” alternatives: tenderly, angrily, or mixtures in-between. 

**Edit: I forgot the one Samantha story that started this all (Susanne Barringer’s Thicker than Blood and Jenna’s IOU)-- it’s now listed below.**  

xraelynn/Rachel Nobel’s Given - Chapter 3 

““Scully smiled back at him. “See, you and Bill might be able to find common ground after all,” she said. 

After I’m gone, her mind supplied, and something in Mulder’s smile faded as if he knew what she was thinking.

“What was she like, Mulder?” she asked impulsively, and she felt Mulder’s thumb grow still atop her hand. “Samantha. You…” She faltered. “You never talk about her.””

A little precursor to Samantha’s POVs-- Everyone is waiting for the prognosis of Scully’s new chip, and Mulder is trying not to react to Bill. Scully asks for stories of Samantha in an impulsive need to connect to her.

Vickie Moseley’s The Visit (Goss) 

“"Sweetheart, he wants to meet you.  Tonight." 

I couldn't believe my ears.  "Daddy!  Not tonight!  I can't possibly go tonight.”” 

Samantha is as we’ve never seen her: kowtowed, subdued, completely dependent on CSM. She is forced into meeting her brother; and doesn’t have the spine to resist. 

Dawn/sunrize’s Heart’s Desire (Goss) 

“"Tell me, Mulder."

So much conflict within him, it was nearly tangible. He wanted to tell her, but didn't want to burden her.”“

In the immediate aftermath of Redux II, Mulder rejoins Scully and breaks down over his destroyed quest and lost (again) sister. She uplifts and helps pierce his swirling confusion. 

shannono’s Meeting 

“"You took her!" Mulder cried out. "You held her for twenty- four years! You lied to her, you told her Mom was dead, that you didn't know where I was. If she's really your daughter, how could you do that to her?" The smile faded. "I am not proud of all my actions, Mr. Mulder. But you may be assured that I have always done what I thought best for my daughter."” 

This doesn’t have Samantha in it, but it is a conversation between CSM and Mulder about Sam’s visit. CSM explains his reasons for keeping her, his secrecy, and why he’s letting Mulder see her now. 

Jennifer-Oksana’s Going Home Again

““To Whom It May–

To My–

Dear Mr. Mulder–

Dear Fox. “”

Samantha contemplates sending her brother a letter... but just can’t.

Livia Balaban’s Samantha’s Fate - Version 04

“”She wept, she missed me.  She was ordered to stay away.  If she got close they would have killed us.  Me, Mom, her.  Later, when she married and Scully entered my life, the threats expanded to include them as well. 

Five lives bound up in one lie.”“

Samantha shows up, trying to reconnect. Mulder doesn’t believe her and insists she leave. A dessert helps to prove who she is.  

Jenna’s IOU 

""Oh, it's complicated, Samantha. We work together and I just think it wouldn't work." 

"There's your problem, Fox. You think too much. Don't think, just make it happen. I can tell you're obviously crazy about her."” 

Mulder is rooting through his parent’s attic with Samantha. She questions his closeness to Scully; and encourages him to go make a move with her now. 

Mish’s Contact 

"”I raise the binoculars again to find Samantha nuzzling Michael's sandy curls.  James is patiently holding a dripping cone of chocolate ice cream for the child to eat when Mom is finished with the toddler's dust- off. 

"They're beautiful," I whisper, grasping Mulder's hand.  He fits his palm to mine and brings our clasped hands to my chest. “”

Post Redux II, Mulder takes Scully to a kids’ baseball game. It’s his nephew’s; and Scully is further surprised to meet Samantha.  

AUs (of an AU) 

Jennifer Maurer’s Perfect Gifts 

““The man's slow, poisonous smile chilled Mulder more than the winter wind blowing around him. 

"You will give up the search for your sister Samantha and accept the fact that her fate is entirely out of your hands.  It always has been, actually, you just refused to believe that.  You may keep the X-Files open as you wish, but I will not tolerate any further interference in the Project."“

An AU before Redux II: On Christmas Eve, Mulder is offered a deal for Scully’s cure; however, it is for naught as Scully takes up a trade deal for Samantha. 

Susanne Barringer’s Thicker Than Blood

“"We have to try," piped up Samantha.  Scully resented her, although she didn't want to.  This woman had just walked into Mulder's life today, after breaking his heart for six months by not having any contact with him.  She'd been in his life for all of eighteen hours and already asked him to put his life on the line for her.  Like he hadn't already done that a million times.  Yes, she knew that Mulder had to find the answers someday, but to walk right into it without any investigation first, without finding out exactly what he was dealing with, and without the Bureau's resources was too much to ask. Even of a brother.””

Mulder is overjoyed that Samantha has contacted him; and overlooks all the manipulative and gaslighting behavior she exhibits. Even though Scully suspects, she can’t deter Mulder from the lethal mission Sam sends him on.  

Susan Proto’s Familiar Faces 

“"There was no doubt in his mind it was Samantha. 

Or a clone. 

"Scully__?" he choked out.

"Could it be the same woman you'd met at the diner?" Scully asked....”” 

Post FTF-- Mulder and Scully are openly dating. While leisurely walking in the park, they stumble upon a little girl that looks exactly like Samantha-- until they realize her mother IS Samantha. Scully professionally handles questioning; and Mulder is gut-punched that Sam doesn’t want to remember her past. 

This is a cherry-pick pick, I must admit. I only read the initial interaction between Mulder, Scully, and Sam’s family before I dropped off (as it, admittedly, gets too dramatic and seems to shift into sliiiight absurdity. Just my own thoughts.) 

finisterre’s The Tunnel at the End of the Light

""Scully? You're Scully, aren't you? I'm sorry, I don't know your first name.

"Then, I see the gleam of something metallic. A gun in her hand, rising. "Who are you?" she snaps.

"I'm ... uh, a friend of the Mulder family," I said.

The visible eye thins to a suspicious slit. "Friends of Mulder's family aren't usually friends of his. So who are you?"”

This takes place during Season 8: Samantha hasn’t reached out since Redux II-- but that changes when she realizes her life, her friends, and her husband were a fabrication CSM used to keep her dependent. She flees, ending up at a very hostile Scully’s (who softens when Sam is devastated at the news of her brother’s abduction.) She is awed when Scully hands over the only false identity The Lone Gunmen had set up as emergency; and hopes to meet again soon.

Enjoy! 

[tomreview]

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[twenytwenytwo]

Dec 9 2022 (6:56pm)

Made it through the day fine, though I was still sorta charged and obviously worn out. Funny enough, I performed well, and didn’t make many silly mistakes like I sometimes do. It was just simple and I was on it.

At some point, maybe it was last night, I really felt like I missed Izzy, and that was the source of my anxiety. I went there after work, and broke down. I hadn’t seen her in weeks. Seeing her made me feel nice. Thought of maybe things being able to put back together passed through my mind today periodically.

I’m very confused. Yeah, I’m a bit sleep deprived and had an anxious couple days, but it just feels like this little anxious period was punctuation of some sort. Like I’m figuring things out and now other things feel slightly different.

I watched a Youtube video a few days ago that basically stated that the degree of happiness you experience in life is strongly connection to the strength of your relationships. That people are the most important. This was an unsurprising metric to me at this point… lol

People have been the common denominator in all my good times so far. They are the most important. Unfortunately, I have thus far taken them perfectly for granted. I thought that people will just always be around, which is an understandable conclusion to have come to based on early life experiences; people always were around, friends, family, etc. Because of this, I effectively factored them out in a way. They became givens, and I was then solely interested in what I could do and achieve with them instead. I just had no idea how important it was to maintain relationships. I had no idea just how important they are to me, more importantly.

This whole time, yes I’ve been going through this and that with life path shit, but another problem was my relationships were all somewhat complicated. They weren’t places of refuge. Well not entirely, and it’s arguable that things are ever perfect for anyone. I think it was just the timing… I dunno.

I’m sure I’ll have more thoughts about this, but for now I wanted to move onto another topic I find interesting.

I’ve wanted to dissect my whole hyper-ambitiousness thing and get to the bottom of it and why it’s not working in my favour. I think “hyper-ambitiousness” is just a word for allowing anxiety to charge your work-drive. And by charge, I mean it gets inside and start influencing the very ideas and assumptions you approach being productive with.

This far, I imagined being productive as just hammering out shit like a mad genius. Productivity was zooming along fast. Sitting down everyday and just flying at light speed. There’s all these “speedy” words involved, explicitly and implicitly. It’s like I was not okay with something taking a long time… and again… taking into account who had original set those assumptions in motion… it’s not surprising they were ill-informed and under-cooked.

To perhaps unnecessarily elaborate, the word “productive” itself just feels like it’s in motion, exciting motion. To be a productive person sounds like you’d just be this machine, raking in gold somewhat. Maybe a little dramatic, but you get me.

The point I’m getting at is that there will be times when the project at hand will require more effort or less effort to complete. Some projects don’t even have tangible products. You can fill you todo list with easy as fuck tasks, do 20 in the course of a day and feel so incredibly productive. Then, you could fill it with 1 difficult task, that doesn’t have a tangible product, and in completion you feel far less accomplished then the day before when folded shirts, did dishes, etc.

A unit of productivity - a task - require different amount of energy to complete. This means that you could put in the same amount of energy of two days, and be different amount of productive, based on the defined units.

This unit is trouble because it doesn’t respect the effort put in. A better unit would somehow measure the amount of energy you expelled, and base your degree of productivity on that metric. In other words, you could be very productive, but only gotten 1 task done, perhaps even half of one task.

Relating this back to me. I wouldn’t feel satisfied with my productivity unless I had done quite a lot each day, and disregarded the varying amounts of energy required for each set of tasks. Slowly I increased the amount of tasks I pressured myself to do, because I thought I could get them all done.

To conclude, I’m in the process of formulating a basic standard, a rule of sorts, for what constitutes productivity. The goal of which would be to find an amount of “productivity” that each day would be easy to achieve (even if it meant not completing a task) that therefore would stresslessly compound. This standard wouldn’t be for sake of reducing the amount of work I do, but more for the sake of guaranteeing some degree of movement is occuring, even if at turtle speed. This stresslessness brings all the joy of working back because you’re not scared of starting. Productivity shouldn’t be suffering. It can be, but it should be most of the time.

[cloudninetonine]

Yo yo! Top Gun anon here and first I’m so happy people are seeing the v i s i o n. To add to it and a bit of what others said imma put it in a list because I have so many ideas but I don’t wanna overwhelm!

1) To play on the cozy player/stronk chain thing and the gravity of the initial rift/difference between the two parties: reader with softer hands/less scaring than the group. Why? Not just for the fluffiness of hand comparisons (and the “must protect”) but for the realization that they’re the farthest thing from what these fools got going on.

They lift up a sword, and I dunno how rough the handles are but these guys definitely have no problems with it. Yet for player it’s much rougher than anything they’re used to. Holding onto it for so long could be painful. Laying in their types of (most likely) makeshift sleeping bags? Coarse fabrics=uncomfortable. Mid rant funny thought about how the chain my see player as “fussy” or something along those lines but instead they’ve barely ever, if at all, came in contact with this much extended “roughing” of the “it”. Lowkey this makes me think of how cozy and nice things can be now in comparison to then.

2) Same-ish point but Stronk chain? Angry player being fireman carried by whichever link away from (danger/mischief/etc) and just hitting his back, not hard but enough where a normal person give up and set em down, but he isn’t even phased. Just calling over his shoulder like “Are we done?🤨 Got it out your system?”

3)Angst warning that plays on Player being more affected by the carnage and battle: That scene from monsters inc where Sully is forced to scare and thus terrifies Boo? That but Player accidentally stumbles into battle because of Dink let’s say. A Link (let’s say Hyrule bc peak angst) whips around and Player has a sword pointed inches from their eyes. A bloody face and stony/wild eyes meet wide and watery ones. Player tries to play it off, they know it was an accident/misunderstanding but…they can’t help but to be on edge for just a little while. And Hyrule/the Link you choose? Ooooh boy.

4) I will later address the Top Gun Au when I get this all out my system because bayBE these ideas are FLOWING?? What’s the discord link again??/hj

Bonus: I know I glossed over the softness of hand comparisons but I gotta be honest the idea of Player’s skin being softer, smoother, less blemished or whatever sparking up a bit of teasing within the group. Maybe it’s just the basics of lighthearted digs at the idea of them in a fight or something as simple as them not being accustomed to handling such heavy weaponry. Let’s say Wars gets up first and takes their hand to compare it to his own battle ridden one. It starts off with the old “taunt”, laughter from the rest (including an “angry” Player) then as the rest carry on he zones out, thinking about how their hand is so much smaller in comparison. So much more…delicate? No no, that couldn’t be the word. Though when put next to him of all people it wouldn’t be far fetched. I’d carry on with this bonus but I don’t wanna make a whole mini fic in your asks GCHBYCHB but I SHALL expound farther on these ideas and more if y’all want because I have been STARTED.

Okay, anon, I would love all of these ideas expanded on I love them a lot!

Player being more soft compared to the others just brings a whole storm of ideas, as are their materials. I think you may have or someone else did mention it in another ask where one of the boys steal Player's clothes because of how comfy they are and I think it's a perfect idea! Them relaxing in Player's hoodie, their eyes heavy because wow this is the most softest thing they've ever felt! Then in comparison there's Player struggling because why is this fucking tunic so itchy and horrible??? Man alive is there fire ants woven into their clothes?????

Also Player just being carried in frustration would be hilarious?? Player snarks Legend and Hyrule has to carry them away while they blow up flustered in frustration because this shouldn't be happening! Even if they're heroes and buffer!

Now Player being much softer to those topics. I can definitely see Hyrule maybe being a frantic fighter as he's dealt with close calls many of times! Imagine how heartbroken he would be, seeing Player's horrified expression, stumbling back away from his sword and looking at him with a hurt that makes him want to drop to his knees and beg for their forgiveness. He wouldn't want them to brush it off, not when he can tell that they're obviously still struggling but he knows pushing the subject wouldn't work in his favour either.

ALSO WAITING FOR THE TOP GUN AU but of course take your time

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Assassins

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

 The soft light of the morning dawn slowly filtered into the room through cracks between the lavish curtains. Streaks of light bounded off the polished gold detailing of the rooms furniture and made the room appear as if the very stars themselves had come to adorn themselves upon the walls. So bright were the reflections that it managed to find their way underneath several layers of bed sheets and directly into the face of ambassador Glifin.

Roused from his seemingly peaceful sleep Glifin slowly pushed off the sheets one by one and rolled to his feet. The loud thuds of his hooves touching the floor sent a shudder through the room as he stood and stretched out, his general grogginess slowly shaking off. With a loud yawn finally leaving his throat he rose and shambled over to his desk to begin his day’s work.

Tonight he was hosting a party honoring visiting royalty from his home world on Argon. The prince had decided he wanted to visit this miserable planet he had been stationed on, though why anyone would want to visit this world was beyond him.

Glifin’s posting on the human homeworld had been sold to him as a great honor but in reality it had been a means to keep him from continuing his political rise. On Argon he had been a senator whose mere whisper was enough to make generals and minor nobles quiver in fear. His star struck ascension didn’t go unnoticed however and just before he was to be elected into the office of Artock Supreme and reside over the entire senate the royal family had stepped in and given him the position of ambassador to humanity.

Within the spam of a solar month he was shipped off the throne world and sent to this backwater dump of a world; were he had to smile and feign sincerity to these miserable sacks of flesh all the while his political powerbase slowly began to crumble in the senate.

Now fully consumed by feelings of dread over his situation Glifin did not hear the sudden knock at the door. Only after several more knocks did Glifin look up from his paper work.

“Come in.”

The door slowly opened and Glifin’s aide Jafal walked in and bowed.

“My apologies for disturbing you at this early hour, but Mr. Robinson has arrived with your evening wear for tonight’s event.”

Glifin nodded and shuffled his papers back into his desk and locked it just as a new figure entered the room.

“Say what you want about Argonian fashion, but they do have such a wonderful sense of aesthetics when it comes to room decoration.”

A slim human emerged from the doorway pushing a small cart with a metal rod built in holding up two clothing bags.

“You have a problem with Argonian styles?” Glifin said as he rose to his feet and walked over to Robinson as he pulled out a tiny box device and casually threw it down on the floor. The moment of contact it sprung open and in an instance a large set of mirrors emerged from it giving an impressive view from all sides.

“Oh far be it for me to question ones culture, “ Robinson continued as he opened the first bag and stepped aside for Glifin to see the contents, “but some would consider the amount of dead mammals your people adorn on themselves to be a tad morbid.”

From the corner of his eye Glifin saw Jafal’s face redden from anger but with a motion from his ambassador kept his tongue still.

“I would find it surprising for a human to find anything morbid with the amount of toxins you willingly consume.”

Robinson flashed a brief smile and shrugged. “You do have me there; personally caffeine will most likely be the end of me one day, but we’re not here to talk about my eventual demise.”

“An end that will come much sooner if you continue to waste my time with idle chatter.”

Humanities incessant need for small talk and idle conversation was something Glifin had never come to terms with; and this human fashion designer was by far the worst example he had ever put up with. Part of him viewed it as a challenge to see how long he could endure before snapping the tiny man’s neck, and though such a moment would no doubt bring him great pleasure the other part of him realized that Robinsons work was well regarded among prominent members of society. Not just with other humans, but with other alien dignitaries who had embassies on the human homeworld. It had been surprisingly an ambassador from the Hive that had recommended the human’s services when it was suggested that Glifin update his style to match his new role.

Walking up to the first black bag that Robinson had opened Glifin inspected the wardrobe.

Inside was a finely trimmed suit of Rygonian Leaper fur of a dark blue with a sash of Haponi tongue and a dashing pair of pants metal grey Roller Worm hide.

It was custom in Argonian culture to wear the skin of that which you have killed, thus the outfit before him was a prime example Glifin’s traditions.

“A fine work indeed,” Glifin said as he ran his fingers across the material, feeling the roughness against his skin. “For a human” he finished as he turned and smirked at Robinson.

“With the effort it took to obtain the materials you requested I would say it is nothing less than an example a miracle performed before your very eyes.”

Glifin stopped his examination of the attire and looked at the human. “For a miracle you sound so…displeased with your work.”

Robinson crossed his arms for a moment and pouted as if considering his next words.

“My work is perfection, I can assure you, but a man in my trade is not just meant to listen to the specifications of their client but their intention as well.”

“And your point?” Glifin queried.

After a moment he outstretched his hand and casually gestured to the Argonian clothing. “Is this really the message you want to be sending?”

Glifin looked at the suit again then back at Robinson. “I don’t understand.”

“If you go to the event dressed like this it will send the message that you still value your traditions, but I worry that it shows a disconnect with your current situation; almost as if you are attempting to relive the past.”

“You would appear as an old war hero trapped in past glories that the other guests would acknowledge, but not make to engage in conversation.”

Glifin opened to rebuke the human but stopped himself as he pondered the man’s words. Robinson stepped forward to the other black case. “Now this,” Robinson said as he slowly pulled down the zipper revealing the contents, “this would make you not only the talk of the party, but would make you the talk of the after party all the way back to your homeworld were many people would no doubt be very much interested in your on goings.”

“Each piece has been designed by some of the most dangerous animals on this planet, and in some cases far more ravenous then anything back on your respectable homeworld.”

Robinson went about and pointed out the specific materials used one by one.

“The body is made from a powerful species that inhabits the various swamps and wetlands around the globe with jaws so powerful they could cut you in two with a single bite.”

“Each of the buttons along the coat are the fangs of the most poisonous reptilian creatures on the planet; each one capable of killing a human let alone an Argonia ten times over with a single drop of their venom.”

“Now the pants I am particularly proud of as they are the skin of the deadliest hunter of all the planets seas. They can smell fresh blood from miles away and commonly take on prey twice their size.”

Gliffin heard Robinson go through the list of creatures but his expression remained emotionless.

“Why would these creatures be any more interesting than my own worlds?”

Robinson smiled. “Because everyone from your world already knows about them and have hunted the same creatures for generations. Yet I would be so bold as to wager my humble shop that none of them have ever faced down the black eyed stare of a great white shark, nor wrestled the deadly crocodile demons of the swamps, and most certainly have been quick enough to pluck out the teeth of rattle snakes just as they lunge to strike.”

“Neither have I,” Gliffin said with a hint of disgust in his tone, “and you would make a liar out of me for saying so.”

“My dear ambassador, who but you could say what you do or don’t in your free time?”

Robinson leaned forward and whispered into Gliffin’s ear “I am no doubt sure many of your females would find the idea of a striking Argonian such as yourself sneaking off to go hunting the unknown for sport a rather attractive quality.”

Glifin looked at the new set of clothing and then back at the original set of traditional clothes. He went back and forth for several moments before finally settling his gaze on the traditional garments.

“Take these away.”

_______________________________________

The lights outside Robinson’s humble shop slowly went off one by one as he walked between the displays straightening out garments and folding tossed aside pieces customers had casually put aside when the door rang.

“I’m sorry but we are closed for the night.” Robinson said as he returned behind the counter with a stack of clothes.

The figure slowly approached the counter and took off their hat. Robinson looked up from the register to see the figure was a Rohanan; a species known for its gel like appearance yet could collect random bits and bobs to create a sudo skeleton and present themselves as humanoid.

“That’s alright,” the Rohanan said, “I am here to pay for a set I ordered for a….friend.”

“Then they are most fortunate to have a friend such as you then.”

Robinson’s smiling nature unnerved the Rohanan but nonetheless they placed a small envelope on the table and slid it across. Robinson placed a hand on it and tapped his fingers several times against the contents inside before opening it and spilling the credit chips on to the table.

“Is it satisfactory?” the Rohanan said, their nervousness building as the human finished counting the chips.

“Oh yes indeed; I believe you have paid in full for your order.” With a swipe of his hand the human pushed the chips back into the envelope and sealed it. “Always a pleasure to deal with such an honest and upstanding man such as yourself during such troubling times.”

Robinson leaned in towards the Rohanan, his expression shifting from smiling to one of mild concern. “I heard there was a most unfortunate incident up at the Argonian embassy several nights ago.”

“Several guests including the visiting prince and ambassador himself all died from poisoning.” The Rohanan confirmed.

“How gruesome!” Robinson said as he recoiled in shock and finished putting away the remaining clothes while he talked over his shoulder.

The Rohanan regarded the human for a moment before continuing. “The strangest thing was that the poison was not native to this world, but is most common in the Hagar system under Dovorian rule.”

“A most embarrassing situation I am sure considering the Dovorian and Argonian people despise each other.”

“Indeed; one might wonder how such a toxin came into contact with them.”

Robinson shrugged and turned as he finished placing the final shirt back into the display. “With all of those fangs, bones, and animal skins I would not be surprised if someone grabbed a tooth or two that hadn’t been fully drained of its contents.”

The Rohanan laughed and placed their hat back on their head just as they stopped at the door.

“You were worth every penny, assassin.”

“An assassin you say?” Robinson’s smile returned and he casually waved to the departing customer “You must have me mistaken for someone else, as I am but a simple tailor.”

[wrenhyperfixates]

Loki Series Thoughts—Glorious Purpose

Ok, I’m always nervous about posting my thoughts, but here we go. Spoilers ahead of course!!! (Disclaimer: Any gifs or images are not mine.)

Let’s start out with the episode’s name: Glorious Purpose. I know some people were a bit miffed about the emphasis put on the line, but I actually thought it worked well. It’s not so much that Loki actually believes in this “purpose,” but rather he is clinging to what he’s been told his purpose is. And by the end of the episode, he’s finally working through some of the things he’s been hurt by, abandoning what he’s been forced into and ready to be who he wants. Granted, it’s still going to take some time for him to come to grips with all that has happened, but I’m excited to see the journey.

The TVA. They undeniably suck. Whether or not it will be addressed directly, they are the (or one of the) antagonists in the show. What they are doing is, frankly, tyrannical. Three “time keepers” have taken it upon themselves to force countless versions of time and people into one single stream. And you know what? They can’t control that timeline. Not like they want to. As much as Loki’s line about “the weak” applies to himself, it applies to the TVA, too. It’s a facade of control that they cling to; if they truly had the right, the ability, to control time, everyone would follow their path. There would be no variants. Now, I could write a whole separate analysis on the MCU’s explanation of time travel. It’s convoluted and in a large way doesn’t make sense.

I’d like to talk about Loki’s characterization. I am, in a word, relieved. From the trailers, Tom seemed to be over-acting, something rather strange for someone so good at conveying deep emotions through nuanced actions. Now I believe any exaggerated lines from the trailers are just Loki trying to separate himself from who he’s been told he is, and trying to reinvent himself. I don’t think that’s a bad thing either; they’re not rewriting Loki, he’s just growing in a new way. And though this way is “new” I think it will be similar to what we’ve seen before. From what we’ve seen so far, there is good continuity, and they are addressing things about Loki that should be addressed in canon.

Loki projects. Most notably in the Avengers, but also a bit in Thor 1 and The Dark World, a lot of Loki’s lines can be applied to himself, though he is talking generally or towards another group. What comes to mind is actually something he touches upon again in the series. The illusion of freedom. And though it is not said that line in particular is him thinking of himself, it can be inferred based on his admission that the line in the gifs above apply to him. Also that little gesture when he says “weak” breaks me. He’s hurting so much.

Loki is not a villain. He may think he’s one because everyone else is telling him that, yet we’re already seeing it brought up that it’s not true. I can only hope that we’ll see Loki state this himself later in the series. He was largely forced to do what he did. It is not his fault, so how can he be a villain?

Loki cares. Tom’s acting is just *chef’s kiss* Seeing his mother’s death hurts so much. I love that his first response is denial. Loki is thrown into something he’s never known about before, being shown things that, to his knowledge, have never happened. But then when he’s had a few seconds to wander around the TVA on his own terms, he’s more come to grips with all that’s going on. So, when he’s by himself and see’s Frigga lying there, dead, it gets to him. Then seeing Odin still call him his son, he feels the slightest glimmer of hope, but also regret; he already knows in the back of his mind that he’s not actually going to get that. Loki’s living from second to second, trying to hold on. He probably thinks this ends with his death. (I do have issues with that Odin scene in context of Ragnarok but that’s more a tangential aside, so I’ll gloss over it for now.) Then seeing Thor and himself acting like brothers again is heartwarming. So just when he’s feeling uplifted, Thanos comes into the picture. He realizes how much control the titan still had over his life; he never really escaped. And in the end, Thanos made good on his promise. And that is terrifying! And he laughs at it. It’s a sad sort of laugh, one that’s slightly crazed. Loki feels that no matter what he does, it ends in pain. By the end of seeing all that, he is a man broken. Rather, more broken than he already was.

Loki is struggling. That’s nothing profound; it’s obvious. But where it really stands out to me is actually in a part I originally thought to be out of character. I am referring to “What if I was a robot and I didn’t know it.” Upon closer inspection, I realize it’s actually that his perception of himself has been so thrown that he really isn’t sure about his own chemical makeup anymore. Odin and Frigga keeping from him that he’s a frost giant made him so unsure of himself, he thought he might not even be a living being.

Nervous tics. Was I the only one noticing his leg bouncing when he talked to Mobius? And what about that scene when he’s sitting on the steps? He begins to pick at his hands. Note, that’s something he did in T1 after finding out he was a frost giant and while confessing to the Warriors Four about how he was the one who told the guard of their trip to Jotunheim. Just a little detail I really appreciated. (If anyone has gifs of any of these things, feel free to share :)

Mobius. I’ll be honest, I’m a bit undecided. I’m hesitant to say he’s evil. After all, we haven’t seen that much of him yet. However, I will say he is unscrupulous and manipulative. His questions weren’t to help Loki work through his trauma. Mobius was trying to goad him into helping, and likely was trying to gauge how much this Loki is like the variant he’s tracking. When Loki makes any admission of his feelings, it’s something he already knew, not a conclusion Mobius helped him reach. Mobius mocks him a bit and pushes his buttons because he sees Loki as a means to an end, and wants to know how easily he can get him to work with him. And what strikes me is how similar Mobius’s deal is to Thor’s deal in TDW. Thor doesn’t offer Loki freedom, he offers revenge. Mobius’s deal is just another variation of this. He can’t offer “salvation” but he can offer something “better”. Working for the TVA really isn’t better, though. So what does he mean? Well, I think he means a chance for Loki to prove he’s a hero. I hope as the show progresses it’s addressed that Loki doesn’t have to prove himself to anyone. That’s what he’s been doing his whole life, but I want Loki to see for himself that he doesn’t have to.

Miss Minutes. Propaganda. Plain and simple, it’s propaganda. Besides the way it praises the “time keepers” as amazing saviors, necessary to keep the world in order, it’s essentially saying “don’t think for yourself.” The whole point of the video is “the time keepers are great. The TVA is flawless. Trust us to decide everything. You have no autonomy in the world we want, so surrender your free will. Submit to the system we’ve decided is perfect and everything will be just fine.” Of course, by “just fine” they mean the variant will be pruned and the timeline will keep going as the time keepers see fit. The animation style was great though! It really fit.

The infinity stones. I think their inclusion makes sense. If you remember from Endgame, the stones being in the right place in the right time keeps the timeline from branching, and thus prevents the multiverse from being created. Likely, the time keepers used the stones to make their “sacred timeline.” Naturally, any variant time stones would cause a problem. That’s why they have so many extras. But think about how pointless so much of what happened seems. Nat, Gamora, Vision, Tony, everyone who was snapped, everyone who was left. So, literally the entire universe was flipped upside down for paperweights. It really puts Thanos’s pursuit of the stones into perspective, doesn’t it?

The cloaked figure. I think there’s some misdirection going on here in one way or another. Mobius says he’s chasing a Loki variant, then immediately it cuts to a scene with the cloaked figure. Our minds are likely to assume that is the variant then. But they don’t actually say it’s Loki, so I’m inclined to believe it’s not. Though, I don’t have enough information to say who I do think it is, I could make a couple of educated guesses and say Mephisto (he certainly interacted with Loki in the comics, plus there’s the stained glass window) or Sylvie. Well, whoever Sophia Di Martino’s character is. I know she was previously listed as Sylvie on sources such as IMDb, but that has since disappeared. But why would you have a “young Sylvie” (Cailey Fleming) without an older version? There is speculation Di Martino’s character will be Lady Loki, but I hope this won’t happen. If they make Lady Loki her own character, I doubt we’ll see Variant Loki get to be fluid. Even if it’s confirmed on the record, it’d be nice to see actually happen beyond a piece of paper. And with twist villains being such a prominent force in modern media, I’m interested to see who our cloaked friend really is.

Time travel. Like I said earlier, this is a lot. But I can’t talk about the episode and not mention this aspect in at least a little more depth. I don’t like how the MCU deals with time travel. I think it’s an unnecessarily complicated mix of a number of different, already complicated theories. However, I think Loki will ultimately escape from the TVA and create a multiverse too difficult to prune (and maybe he’ll actually get to burn the place down too!) This will then tie directly into Doctor Strange 2. Do you guys know what that’s called? The Multiverse of Madness. Actually, in the Miss Minutes propaganda, they almost exactly say “will throw the multiverse into madness.” Will we get to (finally!) see a certain raven-haired god meeting Dr. Strange? And maybe even the Scarlet Witch herself? Well, I’m not sure, but right now I think it’s looking pretty good!

And some random things that didn’t really anywhere else:

Peggy is in the background?! My thought here is that Steve wasn’t supposed to stay with her. This made not only a Variant Steve, but also a Variant Peggy. We may not see Steve, but I bet he’s been taken care of too!! And who knows? Maybe there will be a cameo later. Otherwise, it might be something that was cut from the show, or just a fun easter egg of sorts.

The score was so good! It sets the mood perfectly.

Loki is a good fighter. Even if he’s overpowered, he finds a way.

Some of the humor didn’t land, but that might just be a personal thing.

So now my final thoughts. It’s their strongest pilot yet. So much emotion crammed into less than an hour. A lot of exposition, too, yet it didn’t feel tedious (Endgame I’m looking at you). And then we get to delve into Loki’s psyche, something that really appeals to me! Overall, 9/10. I hope the rest of the series is as good!

Did I miss anything? Was there something you were hoping I’d mention and didn’t? Or do you have something to add or (politely!) disagree with? I’d love to hear it all! Remember, fandom is a safe space to talk about, analyze, and debate about things you enjoy. My ask box is always open with anon on. Reblogs and comments are great too. Thanks!

Me after watching the episode:

[simtanico]

Hi! I don't know if this is an annoying/difficult question, sorry if it is, but do you have any advice at all for modelling sims based off real people? Your sims are SO crazy good. When I try to make them they end up looking... eh... Vaguely like the person? But there's a huge gap between that and some kind of 'spark' some simmers seem to manage to capture.

Hello! Definitely not annoying. Difficult, as in how difficult it is to answer? Maybe. I'm gonna go off on a couple of tangents. But I'm gonna try my best to explain the process. Which isn't really much of one sorry.

There's a handful of tutorials and tips out there regarding reference photos and like... proportions and all that so I won't cover that.

I use that as a general guide of course, but mostly I just save some photos of the person at various angles and focus on one feature or two at a time. Literally going back and forth between reference photo and my game. I think if you try to get everything at the same time, it really makes it easy to get frustrated with whatever your sim looks like at the moment. Making sims in general is a combination of a LOT of things depending on your style.

I can point out ALL the flaws with my sims based on real people. In my experience, it’s about getting the defining features of a person close enough to the real thing so that it resembles them. I don't think you need a complete copy to get the point across, however i do think some people and features are harder to emulate than others. I've been working on some sims for YEARS, and they still don't work out lol

and take a look at this progression on my sim based on Z4ne H0ltz starting back in 2015!

that first screenshot:

Personally, I get a little lost if I work on a sim too much all at once. I find some time away makes me less tired and frustrated. Just pace yourself :)

Also if you need any help, shoot me a message here or on discord. I promise I don't judge or anything.. it's sims who cares lol

TO START...

I suggest starting with the head and its shape. Starting off with a game-generated sim, the first slider I get to is head width. It's usually too dang wide for my tastes. And then adjusting the general position of the the features. You can always change things later, so you don't have to know exactly what you're going to do, but as I've mentioned before, sculpting sims up in CAS is just practice with sliders! Also in the long run, you may want to use Pu+Chi House's Smooth Face Normals slider! I attempt to explain and show what it does here. I've uploaded the slider here: https://simfileshare.net/download/984204/

This is gonna be a doozy sorry in advance if the read more doesn't work

SLIDERS SLIDERS SLIDERS

Big sliders like Pu+Chi House’s face shape sliders dramatically change the face shape, and it could save you a lot of time! I highly suggest using these to get rid of the weird large jaw sims can get.

Play with different sliders and how they interact with one another! Example: jaw width and Cheek Fullness affect the same area. if you need a wide jaw and don’t want cheek distortion, you can use cheek fullness, lower the jaw width slider and then edit the cheekbones from there

 Knowing what sliders move what and how it can work to your advantage is key! I cover this in my reply post about noses.

For visual reference:

I start out with my nose but I want the nostrils to sit further on the outside

so i go in and use the nose width slider and raise it to widen the lower nose:

Then lower the nostril scale slider

Comparison:

as you can see, i kind of achieved what I wanted, but also widened the nose tip too! Welp, that takes another slider I have, Tip Width. And I'll adjust that accordingly! It's really just a matter of what you're going for and what you're going to have to compensate for as a result!

That said, our community has made some awesome sliders that open up so many possibilities and even eliminate the need to do that multi-slider tango. I wouldn't even know where to begin (wish I wanted to make videos because I could talk for an hour about sliders)

For example @pitheinfinite made sliders that can make sims look better and more realistic, I'm jealous at what they've achieved!

They have their Inner Corner to Nose slider that moves an area of the sim's face hat make eyebags and the shadows and lines appear farther out from the inner eye. It saves you from having to use cheek sliders to mimic the effect and thus ruining the face shape you have going

It's truly an INDISPENSABLE slider. One of many!

Since I make sliders, I usually just make some to specifically fix whatever issue I'm having. Granted they're made with general function in mind, which makes my cheater-y way of making things happen more useful in the future. I have about 50 experimental unfinished sliders in my game and can tell you that all my current sims use them for some reason or other. So I'm not working with nothing, I guess?

EYE SPY 👁

The best way to really get nice accurate looking sims is the eyes.

Pay attention to the slant of the eye, the shape and position of the upper and lower eyelids. you can use the game’s Eyelid Height slider, and AWT’s Eyelid width and height sliders (and many more)

and especially where the iris (green) sits relative to the eyelid. getting that shape and eyeball positioned correctly really makes a HUGE difference

I do suggest Bloom’s Eye slider (left and right) that rotate the eyes left and right. That along with their Lazy eye sliders can give your sims a less symmetric face and position the eyes to be FAR more accurate and realistic than the default.

I also recommend their vertical sliders (Eye lift or drop) to help with eye positioning.

I can't stress the importance of the right contacts or eyes for your sims. Of course it all depends on how you make your sims's eyes and all that. Take the last sim i posted about. It took forever and a half to find the right contacts that didn't need severe or intense editing to capture the same vibe the person he's based on. The problem is pretty persistent for me, and I am just speaking for myself when I say this is necessary. Iris size, shading, recolorability, detail, catch lights, and pupil position are things to consider for your play style and preferences.

In addition to seeing what eyes will do the trick, I do edit the catch lights in the screenshots to give the eyes a different emotion or look. (I use defaults that get rid of the game-generated catch lights, and supernatural eye glow.) It's nice when that's all it is and I don't have to go in and photoshop things in and out to make them look human lmao

Perfect, schmerfect

And just know that as long as you have the same vibe or look going on it doesn't need to be perfect! Things will evolve over time, and you can change and perfect things as you go along, but close is better than trying to achieve an exact replica. We are working with the limitations of sliders and the optimized meshes they work on! So yeah there might be jagged bits or the profile might not exactly match and some things might not be accurate, but that's okay! Considering what sims look like at their default, you should be proud! I use the same mf eyebrows on all my sims basically and I tell myself they're just placeholders (yeah, right), but I manage to make them work with what I have!

Sliders, Makeup, and Skins, oh my!

a good base skin is critical, but not the end of the world if you pick the wrong one. They determine kind of definition and types of features highlighted on a sim 100000% and you might lose a feature you like or dislike when you change them! Feel free to switch up between skins you have to find the best fit.

Makeup can be a game-changer though!!! Any details you can add and help make your sim look the most like the person you're basing them off can go MILES.

In some cases, I've actually gotten really interesting results trying to get my sculpt as close as possible to real life references so the makeup makes a difference but don't define the features by themselves. Still, though, I utilize makeup up a LOT. [remember that if you use Nraas, you can layer makeup. Right-clicking makeup will also remove it if it's applied :)]

Here's the last sim i posted about when removing makeup:

no nosemasks really replicates the face-claim's nose (too shiny at the lower part) but it'll do 🤷‍♀️

Freckles, eyebags, highlighters, face shadows, pores, nosemasks, etc are all great!!

The way you move your sliders WILL effect how these look, so don't rely on makeup that adds super-specific detail or goes over an area you know is a jumbled mess because of sliders!

I do have a mess of recommendations and wcifs for skins and makeup. replies tag | wcif tag

[also I love compiling wcif cc lists for my sims it's great]

Finally, I appreciate your comment about my sims, mainly because I know they're not ever really exact copies or as close as I want to be to their real life counterparts, so thanks!! I've seen fellow simmers get really good results without messing as much as I do and I love when people can make really good maxis match likenesses because it's just so damn cool! It's truly a talent. I'm not one of those lucky few, but I like to try my way at it anyway. After what feels like some good progress I'll post a pic here. Even after doing this forever I don't feel like I'm an expert or can get good results in a shorter amount of time, but it's just fun to see the progression (or regression) of how my sims look.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (1)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

Inspired by Unforeseen Mayhem by Aerugonian 

Here is their tumblr (all their work is so good)

(NEXT)

...

Kakashi thinks he might have died. He remembers the flash of steel and Obito’s face or maybe it had been Madara. His memory of the events leading up to the attack are hazy after receiving one too many hits to the head. What he does remember is the slowly spinning, hypnotic red of a Sharingan, and the quick build-up then explosion of chakra.

Then there was excruciating pain in his left eye and…darkness…

…

Kakashi opens his remaining, usable eye to gaze up at tall angled structures that stretch into a grey overcast sky. He can’t feel the left side of his face, his limbs are numb and unresponsive, and there is the damp of blood soaking through his hair. The bone-deep ache of chakra exhaustion is so all-encompassing that he can barely lift his hand let alone stop the bleeding. Around him, there are several people yelling in shock and surprise. Civilians he vaguely notes as he clings to consciousness. There is no sign of Madera, Obito or any of Kakashi’s allies for that matter.

When his vision dims for a second time he thinks that this, this would be his last breath. Alone, severely injured, in a foreign location and with only civilians as help? It was a death sentence.

He is wrong in the end.

…

Kakashi wakes up in a strange hospital bed surrounded by the strangest people he has ever seen. He also wakes up covered in bandages, his more serious injures either treated or in various stages of recovery.

The air is dry with a distinct lack of chakra. It is something he would usually only see in a prison cell made to contain dangerous shinobi in which chakra draining fuinjutsu arrays were applied to the walls and floor. There are no fuinjutsu arrays here. This is not a prison cell. For one, there is a large window. Secondly, there is a constant stream of doctors, nurses and other patients moving in, out and around the building. Finally, the door to the room is not locked. It doesn’t even have a lock.

After memorising the comings and goings of the people working in the strange hospital, he takes some time to scout. Even while injured and drained of chakra, he has enough skill and experience to avoid the workers and other sickly people he shares his room with.

 The world outside his window is one of cement, concrete and brick, with tall imposing structures covered in reflective glass standing higher than any building he has seen before. The closest point of comparison he has are the buildings in the Hidden-Rain and Stone villages but even those are a loose approximation. The hospital is both similar to Konoha’s main hospital, abet a lot bigger and full of strange equipment and technology. The people, despite their lack of chakra, display odd and inconstant abilities, techniques and physical deformities. One of the doctors has a lizard tail and he catches a glimpse of a man with a wooden block for a head. He sees a woman heal a cut with a simple hand wave. Either he is in an unusually elaborate and detailed genjutsu or he is very far away from Kohoha.

Everything is so odd and strange that he is well and truly stumped, leaving him with nothing else to do but quickly return to his hospital room. At least the weird chakra-less people are non-hostiles and willing to provide much needed medical attention. Though he is, as of yet, uncertain about the purpose or motive behind said medical attention seeing as he was a complete unknown to them.

After some consideration, Kakashi decides to wait. He has no idea how he ended up in the place aside from a loose theory that involved his still healing Kamui Sharingan. Additionally, there was no use trying to get back home with stab wounds, his leg broken, his ribs cracked, his shoulder muscles torn and his chakra levels so pathetically low that he’d probably kill himself if he tried.

He takes solace in the fact that his presence, while probably missed to some extent- he likes to think so anyway- wouldn’t impact the outcome of any major conflict. With Naruto’s stubbornness and Sakura’s tenacity, home would be waiting for him, even if he took a bit of time getting there.

…

After a week of information gathering -ie pretending to be unconscious and listening to conversations- Kakashi concludes that the people operating the hospital are relatively harmless. They seem to be under the mistaken impression that Kakashi is a citizen of their village and thus automatically entitled to medical attention. This is despite his lack of identification or history with the place. Such a thing would never happen in Konoha as even civilians were carefully monitored and tracked. Without identification or relatives/friends to vouch for them, a civilian would more likely be thrown out of the village than given what was surely resource-consuming medical treatment. It is lucky for him that there are apparently so many civilians in this village that their shinobi-equivalent forces couldn’t properly keep track of them all. Another point in favour of it not being any sort of hidden-village or any place he was familiar with.

 “Oh, thank goodness!” Says the greying, middle-aged man in a white coat as he approaches Kakashi's bed, “You’re finally awake. How do you feel.”

“Ah…a bit tired,” Kakashi plasters on a confused smile, raising his undamaged hand to rub the back of his head, hunching his shoulders for good measure. The perfect image of a disoriented patient.

 “What happened? Where am I?”

There was only so much he could achieve be pretending to be unconscious and snooping around at night. It was time to get a real feel for residents of this strange place and figure out his next move. This meant integrating into the local culture.  

“No need to worry. You’re in Hosu General Hospital and you’re well on your way to recovery,” A nod and the doctor moves forward to stand beside his bed, “A little drowsiness is a normal side effect of the pain medication we have you on. Now, if I may have your name?”

“Kakashi.” If they hadn’t recognised the Sharingan when they had bandaged it up, then they most likely wouldn’t recognise his name either.

“Well, Kakashi,” The man says with no hint of acknowledgement, “My name is Wada Yasutoki and I’m here to make sure you are recovering properly. Can you tell me if you are feeling any discomfort or pain at the moment?”

“Hmmm…my arm and leg?”

“Would you be able to rate it on a scale of 1 to 10?”

Kakashi thinks for a second and shrugs, “3.” Honestly, he only notices the pain when he’s consciously paying attention.

Another nod and Doctor Wada fusses about, examining the bandages around his shoulder and then his leg, “Well, they seem to be healing as well as any broken limb, maybe even a bit faster. And the stab wound near your chest is almost completely gone.” A thoughtful hum follows the statement. “If not for your left eye I would say you had a healing or regeneration quirk…hmmm…maybe a passive healing factor linked to your quirk…?” Wada looks to him, waiting for confirmation and Kakashi shrugs. From his nightly snooping he knows that ‘quirk’ is the term for the bloodline ability things the people here had.

The Doctor doesn’t press the matter instead asking, “Is there any discomfort in the left side of your face?”

“No.” Kakashi doesn’t want the people here touching his eye any more than necessary. The fact that it is draining charka at its usual sluggish rate was a sign that it was, at least, somewhat functional and that’s good enough for him. He guesses he should be thankful for landing in a place with medicine advanced enough to save it.

“You had us concerned when you didn’t wake after we saw to all your injuries,” The Doctor continues, “Your left eye took quite a bit of damage and we were worried that there might have been some sort of brain injury. If you feel dizzy, lightheaded or confused please, do not hesitate to call a nurse.”

The man shakes his head and sighs, “Now, I understand if you want a bit of space after going through such a traumatic event but if you could provide any details concerning the predicament that ended with you so badly injured it would be a great help to the investigation.”

Kakashi gives a faked confused hum and smiles apologetically, “Sorry Doctor Wada. I'm having trouble remembering much of anything really.”

“Nothing? No details about the potential assailant at all. What they look like? Their quirk?”

“No. Where is Hosu General Hospital by the way?”

His bland expression obviously causes his doctor some concern as he is subjected to a penlight being shone in his uncovered eye.

 “It is located in Hosu City, a ward of Tokyo. Where is the last place you remember being?”

The names mean nothing to him.  Kakashi schools his features into one of complete confusion, “I don’t remember.” 

It’s not even a lie this time. 

After the admission,  Doctor Wada only grows more concerned and Kakashi is subjected to many reassurances that it is completely normal to forget a few things after a brain injury and that he shouldn’t worry himself too much. The level of comforting and reassuring is a bit much if he is being honest. Never before has he longed for the cold frowns of  Konoha’s medic-nin.

“I’ll have to schedule you in for an MRI. If you’re having trouble recalling basic facts alongside your long-term memories, then there might a serious problem.” The older man finally concludes, having run through an extensive list of questions regarding Kakashi’s history all of which he answers with vague half-truths.  Where did he grow up? Somewhere with a lot of trees. Did he have any close relatives? He thinks they might have died when he was little. What does he do for a living? Commission work. Did he have any colleagues? He doesn’t know where they are. So on and so forth.

“It’s a shame your ID and phone were missing when they found you. Stolen by the bastard who put you in this situation no doubt,” the Doctor sighs again, “We might have been able to track down your records. Oh well, we’ll do our best with what we have.”

Kakashi doesn’t speak, pretending to be deep in thought. Mentally, he pats himself on the back for an infiltration gone surprisingly well considering his lack of preparation and the flakiness of the ‘sorry I don’t remember my backstory’ excuse.

“I don’t suppose you remember anything about your quirk,” the doctor asks, “Ocular quirks can have odd effects on brain activity and ability to process information. It might give us a place to start.”

From what he had seen, ‘quirks’ tended to have a specific function but he is still trying to figure out their limits. All he knew for sure was that none of them used chakra.

“It’s called the Sharingan.” He offers to see what the doctor does with the information, “I don’t remember much else about it.”

“Hmmm, ‘copy wheel eye’…it’s a descriptive name at least. Maybe a quirk that deals with memorisation or information recall. I will see if I can find it on the Quirk Registry. Hopefully, that will be enough. ”

Kakashi nods loosely in agreement, filing away the fact that there was a Quirk Registry for later contemplation. 

(NEXT)

[createandconstruct]

My fav scene in FF9, is right at the end of burmecia when Beatrix party wipes you. Up until that point you felt like a hero (through Zidane generally) who is galavanting through a fantasy world. Yeah there are dark aspects like in the village of Dali, the war, and why the black waltz exist. But they are all things you could overcome with enough grit, can do attitude, and a bit of luck. But in Burmecia things are different, the devestation already happened, the heroes weren't there. And throughout this Freya is struggling between her guilt and pain at leaving to chase after her love, only to come back to the place she once protected covered in death and destruction. Even Zidane can't pull a brave face, its bleak and clearly so.

And then we finally see Beatrix, the woman who stole Fratley from Freya, standing and taking orders from the queen and her assistany as if she was some common knave. And I think that thought is what spurred Freya on, the fact the woman who turned Freya's world grey was just a lapdog to the queen.

During the fight proper, I imagine Freya being filled with too much fury to think logically. Zidane knows Beatrix, everyone does, and he's only fighting to stop his friend from killing herself upon Beatrix's sword. And then, all of that didn't matter.

Thats the most amazing, and horrific part. None of it mattered to Kuja, Brahne, or Beatrix, just another interruption (obviously Kuja was enjoying the show, but it wasn't pivotal to him.) And we as the player feel just as helpless, as powerless, and in some cases just as weak was Freya was feeling. It is such a good and poignant way to get the players to emphasize with the characters and doesn't feel heavy handed/forced.

This is such an absolutely perfect analysis of why Burmecia is such a potent part of FFIX. The only thing I can add to this phenomenal breakdown is my own experience which I think reflects how well the game forces the player to feel the tonal shift that comes from Burmecia. And how it does so using Garnet and Zidane's argument after the Harvest Festival.

I remember playing the game for the first time and during Disc 1, when the Burmecia soldier crawls his way into the royal chambers to inform Cid and Lindblum of the attack on Burmeica, and absolutely not jiving with Zidane's perspective and attitude towards Garnet. Garnet demands to come with him and Freya to Burmecia so that she can confront her mother and hopefully stop the war that has already begun. We've been given small hints that Brahne's plans for Garnet are maybe not entirely good-natured and motherly (calling her 'wretched girl' not great mothering) but there isn't any true evidence of malice, yet. The Black Waltzes that came before also all spared Garnet of any harm and so as a player (at least for me) its possible to think that Garnet could be the one person to stop Brahne.

Also, at this point, Garnet has been an integral member of the party as a healer and she's been struggling with her own shortcomings that you want to see her overcome. Despite her work and effort, her own planning and consideration for Alexandria and her mother weren't as original as she thought. Cid was steps ahead of her, already planning to evacuate her from Alexandria (and it was not for plans of collaboration with her on how to stop war but instead to keep her safe from it). And so Garnet argues to come along so she doesn't get left behind and anyone who doesn't want to lose their healer would agree. As Brahne's daughter she could be the one person who can talk sense into the war-bound woman. The tone of the game at this point makes it seem like a possible card that could be played.

Yet for the first time Zidane says no. And as the player I found the way he spoke to her condensing and his argument lacking. And you're exactly right: with enough grit what can't the party face? They've done it thus far after all. That's what's running through the players ahead. Instead Zidane doesn't exude that confidence. He simply asks Garnet how she felt seeing the soldier die and questions her attitude in the face of war, which she has never experienced. Even freaking Steiner agrees with Zidane, after Garnet has knocked out the party, telling her its not her battle to join, and one he would never wish her to. Without Ultimania's added info to Steiner's character you could interpret it that Steiner once served as a solider for Alexandria in the previous Gaian wars however it makes sense that now (with Ultimania) he was speaking of his experience as a child orphaned by war. We later see that Garnet does take some of this heart as she doesn't venture to Burmecia but instead to Alexandira so she can directly face the source of the problem and avoid the battlefield.

During this whole scene I was on Garnet's side and I think the game intends you to be. At this point Zidane has been swinging and missing with her because of his own developing feelings and insecurities (he pulls a line on her that he used on another girl, uses a date with her as a reward for Vivi, and then seemingly looks down on her) all while Garnet has been faced with the limits of her title and her own power as person. By the start of the war, Garnet and Zidane aren't on the same page and as a player you can feel that, it just depends on who you side with. Though tonally, it feels right to side with Garnet. Her view of war (or specifically her mother) and your ability to overcome it as the player are in tune.

And so you have the original core party splitting in half. It's awesome to watch Garnet declare and fight for her own agency in this conflict, doing all she can to save her mother, kingdom, and others from this brewing war. It's refreshing to see a female character fight back when male characters stress her naivety and ignorance, and there's expectation that the characters will all reach Burmecia together and Garnet will prove Zidane and the others wrong.

But... then you reach Gizmaluke's Grotto. Bodies litter the entrance and your path. You make your way through and hit Disc 2 and after we learn that Garnet and Steiner have aimed their path towards Alexandria (unbeknownst to Zidane and co.) the fun lighthearted fantasy world ends. The battles you could take single-handedly are over. You find North Gate which Freya declares smells of blood and smoke and you walk your way to the gates of Burmecia....

...and you understand Zidane's words. When that soldier crawled his way to Lindblum, only to die at everyone's feet, war had already begun. While the party waits for the gate of Burmecia to open innocent people have already been killed and are being killed. When you visit North Gate before the Ice Cavern Alexandria has raised its war banner, and now they have attacked. There is no matter of convincing Brahne of anything, at this point, she must be stopped. Yet when you arrive at Burmecia you're already far too late. A kingdom and its people have been decimated. The corpses of citizens are strewn about in the city streets. Zidane only prays Garnet hadn't come this way.

At some point when reflecting on the game I realized the weight behind Zidane's original words I had found condescending towards Garnet. He questions her feeling of sadness towards war because he knows his own. He's afraid. At the prospect of war even Zidane is scared and by walking through the ruins of Freya's home, you know why. Watching Beatrix, Brahne, and Kuja think nothing of the loss and destruction they've caused you know why. The game shows you the true colors of war and while Garnet knows the significance she does not know (or rather cannot yet remember) the experience of it which is why she can still face her mother, the perpetrator, with hope of change and pacifism. Such a realization hit me hard. Add it to the list of why FFIX is incredible.

[pinkchanelbag]

— there’s no one else; chapter two. 

a jean kirstein x reader mafia au.

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series summary: a boy caught in a web with his survival depending on balancing niceties between his predators. a prim girl on thin ice that leads down the path of least resistance. no one too close and no one too far, no allegiance unquestioned, and no child whose value and future goes without evaluation like a playing card that determines their worth. to be destined for big things is more like being doomed to them, but that’s the way it goes. it’s just family matter.

chapter summary: the party begins.

wc: 1.9k.

cw: still nothing lol

note: putting this out short notice cause it’s JEANBOYS BIRTHDAYYY BABYYY anyway enjoy heeheee and my apologies for the slow plot thus far i swear it picks up trust me bro.

the venue is obnoxiously grand. the garden is more akin to a football field than anything else. there is no central lighting, but rather pure white string lights everywhere, everywhere. tucked behind and underneath tables and wrapped around trees and laying in the overhead greenery and in the bushes that act as walls. wherever you look, your eyes are strained, and you’re sure the dining hall can be seen from the moon. 

speaking of the dining hall, the organizers cleverly blocked off the front entrance to the building so that one is forced to walk the expanse of the entire garden—surely to ooh and aah at its elegant taste—in order to get inside through the back door entrance. in other words, having to greet every single member of the family before so much as putting your clutch down. 

you apply a friendly, attentive expression to your face each time pieck stops to greet someone new, having mastered the art of being engaged but not so engaged it’s troublesome, while in reality being completely disengaged in any way. as pieck converses with a bulky man drinking wine and you pick apart the key points (“we don’t got the ammo to make deals with top contractors—legal team in shambles—not good to have a weak spot”), really you are letting your eyes wander over the shrubbery which has been trimmed to perfection. yes, the lights are a pain and the band is too loud so early in the event, and there is not enough walking space between the bushes so people squeeze together to reach the large clearing of the garden. a perfectly obnoxious party, except you can’t help but appreciate the greenery. somehow, it is the only thing about this evening that doesn’t seem ridiculous. or maybe you’re just unusually irritated tonight. 

your eyebrows knit so slightly at this realization. why are you being so disagreeable? impatience and intolerance seem to grow in your chest for no particular reason. you make a note to identify the source of your mood, and quickly resolve it. there’s work to be done.

karina braun is a kind, opinionated sheep of a woman. she is liked by all, and not because she’s particularly easy to like, but rather because she’s hard to hate. stuck in her times and not having much intellectual value, she is possibly the most important woman in all the families. being the mother of reiner braun and the head of the braun-galliard family, gives her luxury without responsibility. you’ve only met her once before, and she possessed the kind of ignorance many privileged older women have. but still she’s kind, so you can’t justify how she makes you weary. 

her birthday, funnily enough, constitutes one of the very few gatherings that frowns upon trying to discuss family matter during the events, unlike a young girl’s birthday. it has to do with respect, you suppose. 

you spend your first half-hour at the party hovering around pieck as she makes small talk with associates, becoming increasingly nervous at your lack of breakthrough in communication with the family. you know the most important thing is your encounter with karina, and that will open up further talks with others, but you stall to approach her, imperceptibly steering pieck further away from the centre table where the older woman sits. not yet. 

“are you going to keep leading me through the same semi-circle, or are you just going to go talk to her?” pieck asks calmly. you curse her intelligence in your mind. 

“i’m just nervous,” you murmur, smiling politely at a group of men at a distance that eyes you like the business deal you are. 

“you should be, but that doesn’t change that you have to do it.” your eyes flick to look at the woman beside you for a moment. her expression is not encouraging or consoling, nor is it unsettling. it’s fitting. what you and pieck have is less than friendship but more than acquaintanceship. often you feel as thought she’s reading your emotions like an open book, which can be scary considering how many of them you really hide. but if and when she sees them, she doesn’t seem to care, whether they’re incriminating or worthy of sympathy. she sees you, and that is all. it’s not a comfort, nor a curse. 

“what are you waiting for?” she says, but it’s a genuine question rather than a push to complete the task at hand. you realize you’re waiting for porco. you want porco at your side. you want his strength and his jagged-edged ambition, and the forcefulness that makes you do the things your heart has no energy for.

“i just think it would be better if the boys were here,” you breathe. again, pieck sees your meaning, and your fright, and leaves it be. 

for the next eternity, you drink champagne and stretch back your memory to know if all parties are this boring once you become an adult, or if the braun family has a particular talent for making you crave the sight of paint drying. the closest thing to entertainment—and not the hired folk who attempt to call themselves singers—is gabi’s voice, which can be heard no matter where in the garden you stand. she tells stories, strikes up arguments, and gathers food and drink with her friends, all at top volume. for some reason, you don’t find amusement in this either, and really start to worry about this attitude problem you’ve got this night. to add on, porco’s meeting seems to stretch painfully long. it was a short-notice meeting, which either meant something very very good or very very bad—more so when he told you he was being picked up for it by reiner, colt, and annie. some of the most important family members gathering for an emergency meeting means trouble. your anxiety bubbles in your stomach, and you worry that your not approaching the woman of the hour is reaching a point where it might be seen as—rude. 

the guests are alerted that dinner is ready. it’s not long before each person has situated themselves along the tables that line the large garden. the seating plan is loosely maintained, but you have nowhere near the entitlement to mingle among other tables. you find yours and stay at it, and it’s only then that you get an idea of just how many people are at this event. each table is packed, holding roughly six people, and there are too many to count in the chaos, but they create a semi-rectangle in three respective rows. you make out countless bodies but few faces, just an endless sea of tuxedos and lovely dresses. at the front of the garden is the head table, where karina sits alone save gabi’s bouncing body going back and forth. your table is is only a few feet from hers, but you take a seat that puts your back to her front so you don’t make the unforgivable mistake of accidental eye contact. you’re to sit with porco, and his table—the galliard table—is the one closest in importance to the braun table. you are the only one at the table, further reminder of porco’s tardiness. the longer you fiddle with the white cloth on the surface, the more you worry about what exactly the meeting could mean. 

and then pieck comes and sits across from you without a word. as always, you know it’s only family matter—the concern that you look out of place—motivating her and not your obvious discomfort, but you’re grateful nonetheless. 

as the servers stream into the garden like white-clad troops armed with dome platters, a champagne glass’s unmistakeable ding ding ding catches the attention of the guests. a table near karina’s opposite side, not quite flanking her but near enough to display some importance. a man stands with his glass raised, looking unfitting for the position with the way his arm hesitantly dips and re-straightens. bertholdt, yet another notable name in braun-galliard (and it’s your job to know all the names), seems to be the only person around able to give the welcome speech. it’s easy to listen only selectively to the announcements and shoutouts, disregarding all the thank yous and remember whens and listening in for honored guests (who are honored because they’ve proven themselves useful). luckily for you, bertholdt’s clumsy speech has a clear distinction between the two categories, his eyes downturned to cards in which he lists off important guests and whatever thing they did to end up on he list before him. 

“a special welcome to general theo magath of the mexican military, who has been so generous to the family’s trade routes…” bertholdt’s words are careful, partly because of the nature of the things he is sharing, but also because all his actions have been careful since his fall from grace. formerly one of the most reliable heavy men in the family, bertholdt’s reputation was shot to hell when an important—very important—family member was killed on his watch. despite having happened years and years ago now, it took extensive efforts to just convince the higher-ups that he wasn’t in bed with the killer. it’s common knowledge that bertholdt’s incident was the first and last time someone “had it easy” from braun-galliard due to his close friendship with reiner himself. 

“an especially relieving guest to see here tonight—“ 

and—finally—the stragglers stalk into the clearing. like most others, you hear of their arrival from the ripple of murmurs long before you see them, seeing as their whereabouts are blocked off by tables and bushes. a few people stand up, but are quickly beckoned to sit down again and redirect their attention to the speaker, who clears his throat nervously. 

“carry on, bertholdt,” reiner’s affecting voice breaks through the space, and it’s enough to settle the audience, or at least have them pretend to pay attention while the late-comers shuffle through the outskirts of the tables to find their seats. bertholdt proceeds slowly. 

“…a person i’m sure we will all come to rely on during this chaotic time…”

you catch the first glimpse of porco as he turns the final corner of the rectangle, reiner walking before him and colt and annie just behind. reiner is the first to arrive to his table, the invitees seeming to hold their chests a little taller for the family’s true head—in every way except on paper—as he slides into his seat and presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek. 

“…a great legacy behind him and a bright career ahead, and we’re surely glad he’s kicked it off in our company…” bertholdt goes on. you and porco’s eyes meet, and immediately you know something is the matter; you’re just not sure if it’s fury or ecstasy in his gleam. 

colt and annie find their seats in the table just after yours, and finally porco is near enough to see—and ignore—the look of alarmed curiosity on your face. he arrives to the table, giving pieck a look of “we’ll talk later,” and briefly stopping behind your chair. his calloused hands are on your arms for a moment, running up and down comfortingly. 

“—a happy welcome to—“

“hey, doll.”

“—jean kirstein.” 

and your eyes flick away from porco’s and into the crowd of faceless bodies, and the anxieties that kept your brain buzzing with life halt and collapse to the floor of your mind like dead flies.

jean?