#Why do I have problems when I try to implement my idea

[the-golden-dragoness]

Not crying and being guilt ridden again :))))))

[roundog]

o mi goodness

sims4 version is here.

> be me. > going to do a major update to Blender. > previous version files do not work as expected. > play game for mood change. long story short, I had to reinstall windows. btw this animation is a byproduct of checking the functionality of a previously created file... Oh Ah!! I just wanted to recommend this Blender addons to anywho thinking of transferring MMD animation.

https://github.com/Mwni/blender-animation-retargeting

Yes, this animation was converted using this. this addons convert motion via driver, it can be converted quite beautifully!

[elicathebunny]

FINALLY CLOSING THE GAP BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR HIGHEST SELF IN 2024.

You are going to STOP scrolling endlessly for self-help and advice content and you are going to STOP and apply the knowledge you have endlessly gained. Obtaining help and advice knowledge is useless if it goes through one ear and comes straight out the other. STOP becoming addicted to the idea of scrolling and scrolling for your problems yet you already have the resources to fix them. A fool is a person who cannot decide to take action despite having access to the information needed to do so.

BREAKING FREE FROM THE SCROLLING CYCLE

Learning and Applying is one thing, but Learning and Staying Stationary is literally brain rot. You're addicted to the idea of change and the end result, but you never take the steps towards discipline with a personal structure to get that result. You keep looking for quick fixes and easy hacks, but life is not a quick fix and no hack can elevate your life from 0% to 100% without visiting the rest of the numbers first.

TAKE A BREAK FROM SCROLLING

Take time away from your usual scrolling and learn to be on your own. Learn your own ways of self-care, learn what works for you and understand what you need, because nobody is the same. Following a millionaire's morning routine will not make you a millionaire. This routine has worked for someone to feel and be productive in the morning and was probably curated over the years to suit their current lifestyle. So, seeing other people's successes and comparing their working ways to your life is unrealistic if you are not in a position to implement them. Going straight from 0% (Being unproductive and procrastinating) to 100% (Being incredibly Productive and in tune with self) will not be sustainable for someone who has not built the discipline and the inner foundations required for it. STOP seeing information online and taking it without ALTERING anything to your personal situation.

STOP ASKING HOW TO AND JUST DO

"How to lose weight, How to become more social, How to do this and that"

Most of these things you ALREADY know the answer to. Everybody knows that to lose weight, you need to burn more than you consume. There is literally no other way, no magic and no secret hack, just that simple fact. I guarantee you know that to become more social you just have to be social. Learn to be comfortable in social situations which will require inner work, but it's not a difficult concept. Most of us know what we need to do, yet we still try to find quick fixes or another way that same message is presented to us differently. We act as if we are improving and developing on our "improvement" journey yet we are just finding coping ways to feel like we are moving, yet we are still in the exact same place as before. I know you know what to do, I know you have researched what you should do and ways you can do it. So why are you not doing it? Why are you still not where you want to be? If you are not where you want to be, then what you're currently doing needs to change. You cannot do the exact same thing you've been doing for years and expect a different outcome. You need to curate a routine suited to your needs that is realistic and achievable to adopt.

LEARNING TO MOVE ON YOUR OWN, STOP DEPENDING ON OTHERS TO FUEL YOUR SUCCESS JOURNEY LISTEN TO: NOBODY IS COMING TO SAVE YOU BY JULIENHIMSELF Make yourself your safe space, your foundation. When you see yourself in the mirror you should be able to tell yourself "I love you", you should be so sure in what you do that nobody else can contradict what you believe in yourself, this is the end goal of self-improvement. Many of us have put aside our goals because we "are not ready", "people may judge us" or "I need to be/achieve ___ to.." Now don't get me wrong, I'm on this journey with you. I write on this blog to teach my brain how to think in the higher mindset that I'm creating for myself. I too have thoughts like this which is why in 2024 we are going to break out of our old selves to make room for our new selves together. We have to lose ourselves to find ourselves. If you're mood and self-worth are controlled by other people's opinions, then you will never advance further with yourself and will remain stationary. You have to stop allowing other people to determine whether you are allowed to pursue your desires or if you shouldn't because of fear of rejection. Don't take life too seriously, we are only here for so much time. So what if people make fun of you? In a few years will you look back and be proud and fulfilled of your past or feel regret and disappointment? LISTEN TO: WHY YOU CARE SO MUCH BY JULIANHIMSELF + LISTEN TO: HOW TO DETACH BY VICKITA TRIVEDI

The only way to get to 0%-100% is by doing.

Embody your potential

[howlingmod]

I never asked anyone like you for a request (beacuse I just never asked for it) but can you do a father figure 007n7 x reader? If you don't mind, I might refrence your work into mine if i ever wanted to because i think it looks nice

[hugs from zyran]

summary - 007n7 + child reader (platonic), also c00lkid is here

misc - So. I may have gotten carried away. this doesn't fit the prompt the best. (MY BAD. genuinely very sorry i was struggling). but i would be more than happy to do follow up or something im really a fan of this reader. lot of fun ideas to be had

-You were a weird kid. You couldn't remember much of where you came from and how you got where you were, couldn't think of anyone you could call your family, couldn't think of anywhere you could call home. With nothing to tie you down, you had to learn how to adapt to your surroundings.

-You learned how to lay low, hiding in plain sight and vanishing into crowds. If people did take notice of you, you knew exactly how to lose them in aisles and busy cities, making sure you got lost in all the action before they could get anywhere near you. You didn't want (or need, thank you very much) anyones help. You heard enough stories to let you know you'd just get tossed in with the rest of the unfortunate to be forgotten until you turned 18, and you'd much rather spend your days seeing the world.

-With all that you picked up from your surroundings, you eventually gained an interest in exploiting. You'd only seenn it yourself a few times, watching some other teens clip through walls to steal a few drinks from a gas station or something equally mundane, but you'd heard enough stories to have you hooked. You'd heard enough tales that people whispered to eachother about, seen the strictly-titled books detailing some of the most infamous that lined the scarcely visited corners of libraries, and you knew what you had to do next.

-It wasn't easy, not by any means, but you made it work. It's not exactly easy to get tutorials on something so looked down upon, especially the more advanced hacks, but you had all the time in the world to explore. Over time, you honed your craft, moving from slamming your hands into walls when it didn't work to effortlessly slipping through them. You just had to keep practicing and time would tell.

-Since it wasn't exactly easy to consistently secure food without any money or alerting others to your orphaned state, you started to implement your newfound skills to your daily routine. Only problem was it just forced you to realize some of the errors in your practice. It came to a head one night when you decided to try your luck with a local pizza place.

By that point, you were starving. It'd been a while since you'd eaten anything and you were exhausted from researching all day. Looking back on it now, that was probably big part of why things didn't go too well that night. You'd come up late, wanting to limit the number of possible witnesses.

There was one employee you'd spotted while cloaked heading out for a smoke break, so you'd have to carry out your attack before they got back. After sneaking around them, you'd looked in through one of the very corners of the windows, spotting one cashier and two customers. Not great conditions but you could make it work, at this rate you had to with how your stomsch was killing you.

Readying your nerves, you'd walked back to what you presumed to be the exterior walls of the kitchen. With another breath, you stepped forward, slipping through them with ease and starting your mental timer before the other employee returned. You had to be quick, analyzing your surroundings the moment you came to, completely unaware your sudden entry wasn't at all hidden from the customers thanks to a large doorway you weren't able to see from the window.

There were a few pizzas that seemed ready to go, though they weren't yet boxed up. You looked around for a stack of cardboard, hastily snatching one up the moment you spotted them and slipping one of the pizzas into it. You'd underestimated the weight of it, watching it slip off the lip of the box and onto the floor with a muted splat. You hissed, biting your lip in embarassment before brushing it off. You only had so much time, you couldn't cry over spilled pizza.

The next one went in fine, much to your hushed delight, and you made your way back out. The moment you passed the walls threshold you stopped. One pizza could last you a day or two but two pizzas could last you even longer. Without a second thought, you set the first box down, turned around, and made your way for another. This time, you didn't pick up on the exchange that started with your arrival.

"Papa! Look!" C00lkid cheered, pointing into the kitchen excitedly.

"Huh?" 007n7 looked where his son was pointing, being met with nothing. It was curious but he couldn't pay attention to it right now, busy with ordering.

You found another two pizzas, carefully inching them over into boxes and stacked them up. While you were at it, you decided to pick up a few sodas, you could use the sugar, you were getting pretty tired out lately. Once you'd carefully arranged your haul, you sized it up. It would be a lot to carry and you weren't too confident in balancing it all as you walked. There had to be some bags around here...

Just as you began to scour around, C00lkid separated from his father, quietly padding over to get a better look into the kitchen. He stood and watched as you dug around, looking in boxes and scrambling through the contents of drawers. Finally, you'd managed to find a stack of plastic bags in one box, temporarily struggling to peel one away from the others before you began to quietly open it up, wincing as it crinkled.

At the same moment you got back to your pile of food and began to put it away, everything came crashing down. The back door began to swing open, the other employee walking in with tired eyes before they caught sight of you, shooting wide open.

"Papa, look! There's a-"

"THIEF!"

You jolted upright, staring back like a deer in headlights before scrambling to get everything into the bag. One can clattered onto the floor, narrowly missing the plastic. They stood in shock while the cashier rounded the corner to see you as well, immediately darting over to try and catch you. Just as their arms tried to cage you in, you clipped through them, just barely keeping your bag with you.

"HACKER?!" The other employee shouted, still in shock.

The commotion had pulled n7 from his daze, drawing him over to his son, if only to make sure he didn't get caught in the crossfire. He wasn't sure what he expected to see when he looked into the kitchen, but he certainly wasn't expecting you. He'd seen you just a few seconds before you managed to get back through the wall, hardly disturbing a thing in your way. He recognized the exact exploit you were using as one of the first ones he'd ever learned. You were a novice for sure but, this young? You were well ahead of where he was at your age.

"Oh, for the love of God," Elliot groaned, staring at the spot you'd been moments prior before hiding his face in his hands.

"Should we like .. call someone?" The other asked, giving him a lost look.

"I don't even care, man."

-For the next few days, n7 couldn't stop thinking about the whole ordeal. Sure, he'd seen plenty of hackers before, of all different times and from all different scenes but .. you stuck with him. You looked so scrawny, so small. Maybe being a parent had made him soft- No, it definitely had, but he couldn't stop thinking about you. He did the same thing but he just did it for fun, you clearly had some need for it. Kids don't just look like that, learn this and steal food for no reason, that wouldn't make sense. You were long gone by the time they got outside, not like he'd expected you to stay around the scene long. C00lkid had helped him look around for a little bit to no avail, you made yourself vanish within seconds.

-It'd rained a few days later and he couldn't help but feel sick. He didn't know your situation but the guilt of just watching you run off was eating him alive. He found himself staring out the window, looking for something that never showed up. That night, he laid awake, staring up at the ceiling and listening to every drop hit the roof. The hours crawled by and sleep never found him. He couldn't live like this.

-The next day he'd dropped C00lkid off at school he'd asked Noli to pick him up and watch him till he got back, as he'd be busy with something. Noli had tried to ask him about it but only got a 'I'll tell you later,' in reply. He was too caught up in your case to explain himself right now. He'd tried to look for any reports on similar, recent cases but came up with next to nothing. You'd been keeping your exploiting on the down low for a while now if he had to guess, going off how .. iffy, your pizza heist had gone, that had clearly been your capstone project, an over extension of your abilities.

-You'd been keeping yourself out of trouble then, which was good. However, it gave him one location to go off of, which wasn't as good. Considering you hadn't teleported away, he figured you either A) hadn't learned how to yet, or B) lived in the area. With little else to go off of, he had to hope it was B, as he began his search. He looked into every alley he passed by, reluctantly going down each of them and scouring every corner of them. In a few especially embarrassing examples he'd been caught looking into dumpsters and turning over cardboard boxes, offering up a half-assed excuse about losing something that made most people narrow their eyes and slowly turn away, if only to make distance between him and them.

-He'd continued looking until the sun was just a few hours from the horizon with not a single clue or lead under his belt. Dreadfully, the idea that you were whole cities away began to creep into the forefront of his mind. It was only when he'd stopped into a convenience store for water that he'd gotten a lead.

"Long day?" The cashier asked, eyeing him up suspiciously. He wasn't in the best shape out of breath and distressed by hours of digging through dirty streets and other people's garbage.

"Ah, something like that," he laughed breathlessly, rubbing at his neck. He looked around the store idly, spotting the typical monitor of security cameras hanging up near the ceiling. He'd gazed into it, finding himself in one of the sightlines. Without a second thought, he asked, "Have you had anything get stolen recently?"

"Oh, are you kidding me? Every day some punk comes in here trying their luck, thinking they're a tough guy," they huffed, irritation hardening their voice, "Why? Is that a threat?"

"Oh! No, no, nothing like that! I just ... I know this is going to sound crazy, but I'm looking for someone and uh, the only thing I know about them is that they ..."

"Rob innocent people?"

"Borrow things," n7 winced, "Listen, I know that sounds bad but they're just a kid, I'm worried about them. I've got a son of my own and I just can't imagine what I'd do if I saw him in that kind of state doing things like this."

They cooled a little at that, shoulders lowering.

"I know you've probably got every reason not to tell me but I have to try, they deserve a chance, don't they?"

n7 stared at them, watching as they tapped their fingers on the counter and looked everywhere but at him. After a few long moments, they cracked, hunching over with a sigh, "I think I might know who you're talking about. I caught them here a few nights ago, from what I've heard they live somewhere near the park, under the bridge or in that storage shed, I'm not sure. Not my circus, not my monkeys."

n7 lit up at that, perking up instantly, "Oh- Thank you, you don't know how long i've been looking. Really, I can't thank you enough."

"Just get that kid far away from my store, I already deal with enough sticky fingers as is," They grunted in response.

-The moment n7 had paid for his stuff, he was out the door heading towards the park. Honestly, that should've been one of the first places he checked. He didn't have enough time to criticize his past decision, busy searching for a familiar figure.

-The bridge had been completely abandoned, only a few wrappers and empty cans left behind to insicate anyone had ever been there. Anything from your robbery was absent, leaving him to check the storage shed instead. He didn't pay any mind to the hefty padlock on the door, it was more for show than anything, if this really was where you were staying.

-Sure enough, the boxes and soda cans were one of the first things he found inside. There were a few raggedy sheets and a makeshift mattress out of a few others. You'd built up quite the stash of miscellanious belongings. Clearly, you'd been on your own for a bit, but just how long...? The pit in n7's stomach reappeared, deeper with even more guilt.

"Are you stalking me?" The sudden voice had caused him to nearly jump out of his skin, whipping around to see the owner of it. You were standing a few feet behind him, eyeing him up cautiously with a laptop tucked in one arm, the other clenched at your side.

"Wh- No, no I'm not stalking you. I just want to help you is all, it's not safe for you to be alone," He tried, making his voice as small and nonthreatening as possible. With the path you were on and your situation, he hardly expected you to be accomodating. He had to be careful of what he said here, one wrong word and the whole thing would fall apart.

"So you're stalking me."

"No, I'm- That's not," n7 stammered, struggling for the right thing to say. He wasn't exactly an expert in handling delicate situations, he barely even knew what he was doing with C00lkidd half the time.

"Weren't you an exploiter?" You asked, curioisity bleeding into your voice. There it was, that was an opening he could use, right? Find common ground then go from there ...

"Yes, I was. I see you've been learning. You're pretty impressive for a kid," you almost smiled at that, a twitch of the lips that was snatched away in an instant, corrected as soon as you noticed the slip-up.

"You aren't anymore. Why'd you stop?"

"Well, exploiting can hurt a lot of people. I ... I just wasn't proud of who I was, that's why I'm so w-"

You cut him off before he could even try segwaying into your situation, "That's stupid. You learned all that just to throw it away?"

n7 stiffened at that, this was clearly veering down the wrong path, derailing right before his eyes, "It's not throwing it away, it's just that you can't take advantage of people like that."

"Why shouldn't I? Not like they've done anything for me " you hissed, pulling your laptop up over your chest.

Fuck. This was going bad, really bad. You'd already taken a half-step back, you were so close to just running off and starting this whole process again. He got down on a knee, lowering to your height, "Listen, I know people haven't been kind to you and I'm so, so sorry for that. I can help you figure this out, I've got plenty of space and food- I've got a son just like you, actually."

You'd relaxed a little, setting your foot back down on the ground.

He smiled, "Or, if you don't trust me, I'd be happy to help you find someone else. I know there are plenty of people who'd be happy to take you in."

That set you off again. Instantly, any of the consideration you had was replaced with something more active, more aggressive. You clutched your arms around your laptop, hunching over it and grit your teeth, leering up at him, "Like I need your help! I'm not falling for this stupid trap, I'm not just gonna throw this all away! Just leave me alone!"

With that, you spun on your heel and ran through the wall, leaving him to spring up and stumble after you.

"I didn't mean it like that- I'm not gonna turn you in or anything. Just wait!"

He'd only caught you for a few seconds before he blinked, opening his eyes to see nothing. Where you'd been darting off moments ago, you were gone. Did you teleport? He hadn't seen any menu... He stared for a few seconds longer, scanning the horizon. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was around. You'd completely vanished.

He looked up at the sky, being met with sunset. The later half of one, too. When had it gotten so late? It'd been noon not too long ago. The sky was tinted with red, absent of any answers. Reluctantly, he turned away, heading back home. He'd have to try something else, maybe he should just call someone, he didn't have time to run around like this with C00lkidd. Speaking of which, how was he doing? He hoped he hadn't been too much trouble for Noli.

-***-

Your bones hurt, or maybe it was your muscles. Something was hurting, that's all you knew. You weren't too worried about it. From the way that shadow had made it out, you had all the time in the world to get better, stronger. The menu in front of you was stacked with new exploits, you'd been scrolling through it with glazed over eyes, each name drawing your interest with all the possibilities.

As you limbs laid heavy on the ground, your hand kept scrolling. You stopped briefly on one, '/fling.' You looked past the menu, finding a nearby log and typing in your best approximation of its ID. The second you hit execute, you watched it go flying, soaring through the sky until it inevitably hit the ground with a distant 'splash.' You smiled, a weak little laugh prying its way out of your scratchy throat. You spared your legs a glance, they looked so strange. Did you always look like this? Had you always had such sharp nails? Is that why everyone looked at you like that?

"Hey! That looks just like my dads!" A voice cried next to you, echoey and distorted. The owner plopped down by your side, leaning into your field of vision with a grin.

"He uses it to teleport us to school!" He beamed, rocking back and forth, "Can you teleport?"

You stared at the small boy out of the corner of your eye, meeting his excited, expectant eyes. Numbly, you shifted your eyes back towards the menu, finding the '/tp' and digging through your mind for a random ID number. Your fingers found the keys before they even registered in your mind, the screen an extension of your arm more than anything. As you hit 'execute,' a soda can fell and tipped over next to your knee.

The boy gasped, snatching the can up giddily, "Awesome! What else can you do?"

You found yourself looking for another command before you could even process his words, scrolling for the next object of interest. 'He looks so strange,' you thought, not too far off from how you looked, though. As he settled in to watch you work, you found you didn't mind either of your appearances.

[sims3fiend]

Some dumb sims 3 updates/stuf

Or, how to develop severe brain damage in 10 easy steps.

Sooo… This is going to be more of a blog post than anything of any real substance, more of a whinge with maybe a few teasers for some stuff I may or may not release (probably not). Feel free to skip if you're after hot tips or coherent writing.

Stutter "fixer"

Sooooo…. The sims 3 has some stutter issueeesss… Incredible discovery, I know! I started looking at remedying them with settings, found some hidden settings that help reduce some of the issues but that can only do so much when the game was made in 2009 for 2009 computers.

So I had a looky at some things I thought could be causing it, mainly WinAPI functions because that's the easier route (h-haha…), and started to try to "optimize" some of the more common ones:

ReadFile: Was the first, and looking at the sheer volume of like 12783972198 calls a milisecond every time you move the camera, I thought surely I can speed it up a little r-right. Not really. I tried all sorts of… interesting things, file caching in memory, implementing the overlapped flag (took ages), etc. Oh and the performance increase? Literally nothing. It's called weirdly from wherever it's called and so we must suffer.

Threads: So, I had a look at other areas that were potential targets for speedup, ran an actual profile and it showed a problem areas namely threads and some other stuff I don't remember. ZwWaitForMultipleObjects and WaitForSingleObject take up a lot of time, so I very poorly attempted to optimize them, adding some timeout optimizations (and a bunch of other failed attempts). Despite being the most insane, this actually worked, and I got like a 40% speed increase in a very very niche metric that did not noticeably effect the game one single bit. I plan to combine all my failures into a single script eventually, maybe once combined they'll do something…

Actual insanity - Memory IPC: Then I had an idea, everyone hates e12, why don't we shove the games memory into another process and that'll fix it. No brain moment. No clue what past me was thinking, for some reason I thought you could like, access another processes memory if it was spawned from it, but uhh.. no, that's not how things work… I tried a few other things in a similar vein but it just crashed and crashed, so for now I'm just gunna work on:

Alloc/free mee - Current insanity: Currently, I'm still working on VirtualAlloc and VirtualFree (which is what I was redirecting to another process), but more from an optimizing memory usage standpoint than a… whatever the IPC thing was. There's a lot of things to try, and I've had some luck in some areas and some abysmal failures in others. There's a few promising functions calling VirtualAlloc/Free that seem to be potentially pointing towards memory leaks (004e54d0), but I'm too dumb to investigate that. At the moment, I'm going mostly just gathering more logs which takes forever and hurts my brain real bad.. On testing there's like 180 allocs that we could probably yeet no problem, which is like 750mb saved… Maybe idk.

I have plenty of ideas for deduplication, memory pool implementations to reduce churn/fragmentation, shoving things aggressively into pagefiles if they're not being used, etc. etc. Basically, there's a lot of avenues to explore, and I feel like there's potential… though I've definitely said that before and been dead wrong so…

Anyway, rambling over. I plan to release a dumb little renderer settings mod maybe-soon-ish that'll let you do dumb stuff that might be useful for reshade like turn shadows/drop shadows off and post processing off and on. I guess I could add max lots and other settings eventually too since they're static values.... Might also do a mythbusting post for some performance "tweak" stuff I see thrown around that isn't super accurate but I also don't want people to be angry at me so maybe not.

Sorry to whoever read all this, but also thanks :)

[nyuuronfly]

On Rain World lore and it's implementation within the game.

This is kindof a random ramble I went on in a Discord chat and just feel like sharing elsewhere. (also note this is all primarily in reference to the original game, Survivor's story.)

I honestly think too many miss the forest for the trees a bit with RW, in terms of how important the lore is, if that makes sense. I talked with somebody about first-time experiences with the game and they said they'd watched a number of lore explanation videos on YT before starting, because of some reason along the lines of "I didn't trust the game to deliver its own story properly." To me this is almost saddening to hear because I really feel that misses the point of why the game has it's lore to begin with.

To me, while playing, any tidbits i learned about history or other information contributed to a feeling like the world I was navigating had a very real history that saturated it, yet one that I would be unable to grasp fully. It is an illusory feeling of realness, given how it is experienced. The game is mechanically not designed to incentivize collecting many information pearls, especially when in the original game you can literally just drop them off a cliff and lose them forever. You get the feeling often like you are bound to never be able to get everything, nor would you even probably want to put in the effort, so the illusion actually stays stronger because of that. Your mind wanders speculating about every little detail, whether intention truly existed behind it or not, because it feels like it did. You learned that it might have. Maintaining that illusion while playing I think is the primary reason they were included, not actually the experience of "knowing" the history. Rain World in general seems to have a thematic fixation on the simple idea that individuals have limited perspectives. Joar Jakobsson has said that one of the core ideas behind Rain World was to recreate the life of a "rat in Manhattan." That is to say, a creature that understands how to find food, hide, and live in a complex man-made structure, that cannot understand it's structuring purpose or why it was built. The very core issue of the iterators, is that the solution to the "great problem" intrinsically has to lie with knowledge that could only be obtained from "the other side." They are corporeal beings trying to know something that pertains to something outside corporeal reality. Yet pursuit of knowledge is very important to creatures like ourselves. Collecting any individual pearl is mostly an exercise in doing a lot just for little bits of knowledge. There is a lot of understanding of just how significant wanting to know more is, even something unimportant, when you are left in the dark the way you are in the game. Most information pearls you deliver are literally completely useless to know about, but they feel personally important, especially in how finding them relates to your connection to the iterators. My primary motivation to find pearls in my first play was to spend more time with Moon. On a very real emotional level, Moon felt like my only friend in the world while I played. On a mechanical level, she does literally nothing. But Rain World manages to operate on a very emotional, even instinctual level with how it's designed. I wanted to be in her company and have something to give her. Because I am alone, and lost. So something along those lines is why I felt saddened to hear the sentiment like Rain World somehow "fails" to deliver it's "story." The purpose of the game is not to find pearls and hear about some grand narrative. At it's core, Rain World is a game that's design was inspired by nature, and it's use of history within the world relates to us as a player the way history relates to us as people. It is relayed through people reading from records created by parties with their own perspectives, and connects us abstractly to a sensation that there is more out there than our own lives. That is a feeling you have as a player, and ultimately the true story that Rain World tells is the memories you have playing it. What you did, saw, and felt. The same as how our story is that of our own lives. That is the purpose of the game.

[shiny-jr]

Loved all your info about Empyrean with my last ask and left comments/reblog to it, and so sorry to spam your asks especially when you’re still working on this idea, but I’m just curious and want to hear whatever ramblings you’d like to share!

You mentioned Heartslabyul being inspired by Europe with a dash of volcanos via borders and I’m sure there’s going to be lots of references to the regions of origin for the fairytales/Disney movies for each. But are there other places of the world you’re drawing inspiration from, whether in real life or from Genshin too?

You’ve given teasers about Leona and Idia, along with the original premise post for a few of the other archons, are there any other backstories you’ve been developing for the archons or even the other characters?

Again, sorry to spam your asks but the more I look into Genshin, the more I’m excited by Empyrean and wishing you all the best in writing~!

So if y'all recall, my biggest qualm with Genshin Impact was the amalgamation of cultures and cultures as costume. I am NOT trying to do that here. However, here's the problem when it comes to implementing the twst x genshin au: a majority of the stories are based in Europe or have European origins. So that means that most of the world, if we go by that logic, would be European, which doesn't sit right with me.

So for story's sake, I think I'll imply in the story that the seven nations are the ones of the known world, and the most recognized due to their archon's power. I've considered maybe changing the setting of a nation, but that doesn't exactly sit right with me either. So that's why I stated here and like I said, it will be implied in the story, that there is another part of the world not even really known. That being said, I probably won't lean too heavily into the cultural aspect of the story. However, there will be mentions here and there. Keep in mind though, I belong to none of these cultures, so I'll try to research to the best of my ability but it's also why, like I just said, I don't want to heavily into the cultural aspect of the story, because by no means do I want to get something wrong and offend anyone.

Here's my thought process for the inspiration of each. Keep in mind, this is still very much a work in progress.

Heartslabyul: British Isles

If you thought this was gonna be any other place, then what the hell are you thinking? Riddle definitely has a British accent. The tea, the tarts, all that stuff? Very British, if you ask me. Of course there's the fact that the original author of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland is from Britain.

Savanaclaw: East Africa

After bit of research, I found several things. Such as the fact that many of the names from The Lion King movie are based off the Swahili language. Zulu is apparently also spoken in the opening song, The Circle of Life. Additionally, the Pride Lands are said to be set in either Tanzania or Kenya.

Octavinelle: Scandinavia(?)

I know a lot of people like to debate where The Little Mermaid takes place, but I'm basing this on the origins of the author, as he is Danish. Also, if you recall, I believe there's in game dialogue where one of the Octavinelle characters mentions how ice often makes it difficult for them to return home, thus suggesting that their homeland is very cold. Originally I did want to add a tropical location, but this complicates things.

Scarabia: Arabian Peninsula(?)

Yes, yes, there's the fact that the movie of Aladdin takes inspiration from Indian and other Southeast Asian cultures, but from what I've seen, the story seems to mainly derive from Arabic cultures. Aside for the fact that the story of Aladdin is said to come from the Islamic Golden Age and is from a collection of Middle Eastern folktales. If you research names like Kalim or Jamil, they do have Arabic origins.

Pomefiore: Central/Eastern Europe(?)

We all know the Brothers Grimm, yes? Authors of many fairytales, one of which being Snow White. Well, they're German. And, I mean, the archon is going to be Vil SCHOENHEIT, if that's not German sounding last name, then I dunno what is. Why did I include Eastern Europe? Because I personally HC a lot of the characters with accents and the accent I imagine Epel with is some type of Slavic. God, I love creative freedom.

Ignihyde: Greece

This one isn't even a debate. I don't gotta say why.

Diasomnia: Western Europe(?)

It is said that one of the earliest records of Sleeping Beauty was in a French book. If we look at some of the inspiration from the movie, it's said to take place in a French medieval kingdom. So yeah, it just made sense in my mind.

[sgiandubh]

Last minute Swifties

Contrary to what many thought and some posted, I do think the OL cast's Taylor Swift experience was a last minute promo idea, very much monitored by *** and Tall Ships. I was wrong about minder/security guy (still, eerie...) and I never have a problem publicly admitting it. But quite unlikely I am wrong about this one. And sorry for the length, but you know how I am when I am looking for something, right?

Let's unpack: cast thanked the 'organizers' (and minders, really) in very specific terms, leaving NO much doubt:

Louisa McCulloch. Remember this name, we shall meet her in one hot minute. So thank you Louisa and Maril for organizing this: ask yourselves why did Maril, who (as far as I know) is based in the US, have to come to Edinburgh just for the gig. Damage control, perhaps?

And Sophie S., with a remarkable choice of words:

'Thank you ***, TS and her team for making it happen'. In my book, this means a strong, common effort to secure the box last minute. Because 'making it happen' means exactly that: 'need to do everything you can to facilitate it'.

Clearly Skelton, who is a Swiftie in her own right, was particularly appreciative of the efforts it took to ensure everyone could attend the concert. If that were a long planned event, her enthusiasm would have been more temperate, I think. 'Adding more Swifties to the clan' - LOL, Sophie, you mean S and C had no idea of the lyrics and were unable to sing along with you, John Bell, Izzy and Co (I keep forgetting their names and I like them a lot, in the show)? People of my generation are already too damn old for Taylor S. And this different sort of music might be more of S's real preference: otherwise why post it in his stories, as if to say ' TS is a different thing altogether'?

James. A Manchester rock band, formed in 1982, popular in the Nineties. I see no lies: he was clear 'JAMMF is a Swiftie'. And we are, after all, Children of the Nineties, not TS's crowd. And yes, I knew S was into the same kind of music as I was, in the Nineties (he seems to have stayed put, right there, unlike me, LOL):

Anyways, back to the mysterious woman up and front on three pictures in a row, that got many speculating. Nope, that was not Wendy, the MUA and S's bestie:

Once...

... Twice...

... Three times a lady:

Her name is Louisa McCulloch, née Radcliffe and she is the one S thanked, along with Maril (see above). It was a bit hard finding her, because her IG account is private. But I found her alright on Facebook, and then LinkedIn (of course):

Based in Lockerbie, Scotland. 20 years experience as a media publicist:

Worked with *** and Tall Ships since Season 3, after a short stint as Head of Publicity at the Paramount Pictures London Office. Got promoted from Unit Publicist to Publicist during COVID, for Season 6. So yes, she is the one who made it happen, locally, on what I think was a quite short notice.

Attention successfully diverted. Impeccable timing and giving a younger crowd what it wants. Trying to capitalize on TS's huge Instagram fan base: 283 million followers (wow! I had no fucking idea she was so huge). A win-win situation for just about everyone and an elegant way out from sordid waters:

And it worked. Lost among the hundred of thousands of likes and comments, look who's jumping on the bandwagon:

Sharon Stone. With a Blue Check and her 3.9 million Instagram fanbase. A Nineties deity, need I remind you (this blogger spotted her during the Berlinale 2007, while I was going out for drinks, blissfully unaware we were all staying at The Adlon, LOL)?

They mutually follow each other on Insta, by the way. I wonder why *urv did not pounce on that one. I feel robbed, for once, of a wonderful fanfic.

[Later edit] Several comments take on this person without a proper justification. I am editing this post to remind you she is only responsible for the implementation (in Scotland) of decisions taken elsewhere (in the United States of America). She is NOT a decision maker and as Publicist, was probably responsible for the local implementation of a hasty decision to attend an event (secure VIP box at Murrayfield, sell content to the local press). The direct contact with TS's team was, very likely, Maril and upwards, in the hierarchy. In all fairness, she has nothing to do with a billboard spotted in Los Angeles, USA - nothing of the sort in Europe. I am all for taxing, but let's tax people who are really RESPONSIBLE: she is just a very well paid underling. Thank you all, I am sure you understand fairness can only add to our credibility as a group.

[oneofthosecrazycatladies]

What are your thoughts on DEI and how it’s implemented outside of the work environment, (school, every commute, etc)? I’d love to hear your opinion on it.

Well, as a disabled queer woman I might be biased here but I think giving minorities better opportunities is a good thing.

Also, as a historian, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that most of our institutions were built explicitly to discriminate against minorities of all kinds. When the Founders were discussing the constitution in the 1780s, Abigail Adams wrote to her husband, John Adams, urging him to include women (she famously said “remember the ladies”) and his response to her was basically oh you’re so funny obviously we can’t include women, don’t be ridiculous. From the 17th to the 19th centuries, numerous laws were passed explicitly to exclude free blacks from society. Don’t get me started on the way disabled people were institutionalized well into the 1980s. Or the actual ethnic cleaning of indigenous peoples.

And…I shouldn’t have to say this but apparently I do…there have never been laws (at least in the US) to oppress white men. Like, that has just never been a thing.

So the US claims to be a society built on the idea that all humans are created equal. But if you’re building your institutions to exclude 99% of people, that’s not equality. Which means, if you want the institutions to become more inclusive, you have to take action to encourage that inclusion.

If you own a store and you say okay only people with red hair can come inside my store and you set up cameras and monitors to make sure only people with red hair are coming into your store, then anyone who doesn’t have red hair just won’t even bother trying because what’s the point. But then one day, you decide, you know what, I change my mind, I want to let brunettes and blondes into my store. Except the brunettes and blondes know that you’ve previously only let in redheads so why should they bother coming to you now? So in order to get more blondes and brunettes you have to go out and find blondes and brunettes and say hey I’ll let you into my store now it’s fine.

That’s what DEI is. It’s realizing that the institutions were built to be unfair and trying to make them more fair, but also realizing that the people who have been shut out of these institutions need to be assured that they won’t be shut out anymore.

One problem that can happen when you start to free historically oppressed people is that sometimes people can over-correct and take it too far in the other direction. But the people who have over-corrected with DEI are largely in the minority.

But now, white supremacists, who just fundamentally don’t believe that any kind of diversity is ever a good thing, are trying to over-correct the over-correct and claim that DEI is somehow white oppression.

You asked my thoughts on DEI? Well, long story short, it’s hard for me to not think of it as an overall net positive. To give you a more personal example, I’m legally blind. I am not physically capable of reading a regular print paperback book like sighted people can. Does that make me stupid? No. I have a medical condition beyond my control and all I need is some special equipment and I can read all y’all under the table. I’m able to get that special equipment because of DEI initiatives.

Just because there are a few over-correcting bad apples doesn’t make the entire tree rotten.

“DEI” has become this weird buzzword, but let’s not forget that it’s actually not a word, it’s an acronym. Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion.

Diversity. Would you rather eat the same thing for every meal every single day for the rest of your life? Or do you like to switch it up every now and then and eat something different? Yeah? You like a little diversity in your diet?

Equity. Do you like pie? You know when someone makes a pie and they’re cutting it up to serve and everyone else gets a massive slice and you just get a little sliver. That’s not fair right! You should all get equal amounts of pie!

Inclusion. We all like chili don’t we? But chili without beans is just an abomination. You gotta include those beans or else it’s not really chili is it?

That’s my thoughts on DEI.

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab (15)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Warning:

Terrible drivers, Picking on someone not your size, Jason being cute while trying to look cool, Stupid cupid strikes again

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

As always, a huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me. @vbecker10 , thanks for always listening and helping with all my idea rambles! This story sold have been stuck off not for you.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

The evening traffic was not horrible, Jason had anticipated that it would be worse. The only terrible thing was the expensive brightly colored car that had cut him off when he tried to turn into the parking lot. Had it not been for his quick reflexes, he would have been forcefully acquainted with the pavement. He glared at the car as it took up two spots from poor parking. 

There’s no shortage of dumbasses here. He purposely parked a few spots away from the crazy driver when a well dressed woman came stomping over. Her mouth was moving and her eyebrows were furrowed, but he could not hear a thing thanks to the music that was currently playing through his helmet speakers. I’m guessing she’s pissed and trying to blame me for her shitty driving. He watched her arms flail about, motioning to the car that nearly hit him and his motorcycle. When she gave it a rough nudge in an attempt to knock it over, he frowned. Standing up at his full height, he looked down at the woman who stumbled a few steps back when she saw just how much bigger he was than her.  He scoffed at her attempt to try and paint him as the villain, but the lack of an audience only made her look even more ridiculous.

Huffing and puffing, she turned on her pointy heel and stormed into the cafe. Jason could only shake his head in response to the crazy person, grabbing something from one of his saddlebags. He carefully placed it in his jacket pocket, making his way inside and into the line. Normally he would’ve taken his helmet off by now, but he wanted to surprise a certain barista. What was not planned for was the rude customer causing a scene, the same person who nearly hit him with a care. Seeing as no one wanted to step up, Jason took matters into his own hands.

“Why don’t you call him? Since you say you know him so well, call him. Let him know that you’re harassing his employee for doing her job and following his rules implemented in his establishment.” He cut into the conversation, stepping forward as others made room for him. The look of shock on Y/N’s face when he removed the helmet was plenty of reward for his noble act, but he was selfish and wanted to do more. He wanted to see more of her reactions, but first he needed to get rid of the eyesore. 

The woman flinched at first, but when he removed the helmet her attitude completely changed for a third time. He noticed the flushed color on her face from all her shouting was quickly softening as she stood taller and fixed her clothing. It was painfully obvious that she found him attractive now that she saw his face and it took a good level of control to not roll his eyes and curse her out for making a mess wherever she went.

“I know how this might look just walking in, but she has been quite insolent this entire time. I am merely trying to teach her her place.” She was calmer, but her tone was cloyingly sweet. It made him feel suffocated and uncomfortable.

Don’t do it. She’ll tack on to Y/N and that’ll only cause more problems. “Not from what I’ve seen since you walked up here. Did you forget you nearly hit a biker with your car and cursed them out? Hi, that biker was me. Now, get your drink and sit quietly or leave, or you can call the owner and he can check the CC footage to see what happened. You pick,” he kept his tone leveled and firm. Any attempt of her flirting with him was clearly useless and he was not going to even entertain being anything except cold and disinterested. Her face paled and she ran off to the pick-up counter,

“Thanks for the help. I’m sorry you had to step in like that.” The genuine smile of relief she gave him was a direct shot to his heart. It injected warmth into his veins and filled his chest with immeasurable pride. There was also an ache underneath it all, but he pushed all of it aside to focus on the conversation.

“Don’t mention it, I told you, I save damsels in distress. You just happen to be in distress more often than most.” He smirked and winked at her, earning an eye roll in response. “I’ll have to insist you clock out for the rest of the day though. You look exhausted and after all of that, you deserve a free night at the least.” The two other employees were quick to jump in and assist him in trying to get Y/N out. Seeing as they had it under control he simply stepped aside and waited for her to come around after clocking out when his ears perked up at a particular word used to describe him. She’ll correct it, there’s no point in expecting anything else. Though he was smiling, that odd sting from earlier was back. Yup, any moment now. He sighed, waiting…and waiting. Only to hear the door open and close with no argument from Y/N. The next thing he knew, he was being dragged out into the chilly autumn night.

Wait, she didn’t correct them?! Does she not mind it? Well now, I guess I’m just meant to play the role.  Her coworkers waved and wished them a good night. Y/N refused to look back while Jason was grinning to himself. The first time he played the role of her boyfriend was way back when she was being harassed by some older guy who slipped something into her drink. Now he was being mistaken for it and it made him chuckle.

“What are you laughing at, oh great capeless crusader?” She scoffed, turning to face him as soon they were outside the doors. “Well, whatever drink you wanted to get is cancelled now. Sorry about that, you can head to some other coffee shop if you want. You don’t have to spend time with me or anything, I’ll just cross the street and play at the gaming lounge.” She pointed to the strip mall which he went to on that fateful day thanks to the IP address.

“And what kind of boyfriend would I be if I just bailed on you like that?” The grin on his face only grew into a smug smirk as she scowled back at him.

“The kind I actually have, nonexistent.” She managed to retort.

“So you’re single.” He mumbled to himself. Good to know. He logged the bit of information away as he looked across the street at the dying strip mall. Slipping his hands into his jacket pockets, he felt the smooth wrapping and paused for a moment. “I came all the way here to give you this.” He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sandwich bag with a zipper lock that held three dark squares in it. It was the brownies she had joked about earlier. “I’ve gotta make up for my lack of texting somehow.” He handed the baggie over to her and watched her carefully hold it in both her hands, wide eyed and smiling. Another direct hit to his heart at the purity and innocence of her happiness.

Y/N carefully cradled the confections in her hand, afraid to smush them even just a little bit. It was a simple gesture that made all the stress and frustration from the day quickly melt away. She really did want a brownie after talking to him about it, but the last thing she would have thought was him bringing her some. “Did you make these?”

“Yeah, I dabble in baking from time to time. I live on my own and living off of fast food has lost its appeal.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They aren’t anything super fancy, I didn’t wanna risk putting in something you can’t have or you just won’t like.” Y/N ducked her head in hopes to hide the blush that was warming her cheeks as she gently placed the treats into her bag. She knew her initial judgment of him was not the kindest due to the coffee fiasco, but he proved himself to be someone more respectable and straightforward.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to though. But if it helps, you did earn some points.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get. So, did you really want to go to the lounge or is there a chance I can sway your decision?” 

“Oh, what do you have in mind?” Y/N felt her facial temperature was more regulated at this point so she looked up at his face once more. He’s really too handsome for his own good. The price to pay for seeing it so often is pretty steep though.

“Maybe dinner, my treat? There’s a really great diner not too far from here. I always hit it up when I’m in the area.” She carefully considered his offer, looking over at the lounge. It had been a while since she last logged on and her usual buddy was nowhere to be found. She was hoping to possibly catch him tonight, but she knew there was no promise that he would be online. Biting at her lower lip, she tilted her head side-to-side as she debated on what to do. 

There’s a slim chance that Arkham_Knight might be online, but he could just message me and I can check on it later. Hottie Toddie over here actually brought me brownies and helped me with a horrible customer. She took a deep breath and turned her attention fully to Jason.  “Sure, let’s go to the diner. But uhm, how are we going to get there? You came here on a motorcycle, right?” I'll log in tomorrow, we usually meet during the week anyway. 

“Yeah, we’d just ride my bike. Why?”

“I’ve never been on one. All I know is you sit on it like you do any bike.” She rubbed the back of her neck, her gaze falling to the ground once more.

“I promise I’m a skilled rider, you just need to climb on behind and hold on tight.”

“Hold on tight? To what?”

“To me.” He offered her his hand. Seconds ticked by like minutes as he watched her look between him and his hands. Though he was very cool and confident in what he was saying, he was a mess inside. She could easily reject him and this would be an embarrassing mess. The thought of her declining felt wrong. He wanted her to say yes, he was wishing for her to say yes. The waiting was making him nervous and he was grateful that his gloves hid the cold sweat on his palms. “So, what’ll it be?” There's no reason for me to get nervous. 

“Mmm, ok.” He swallowed the sigh of relief that threatened to come out as she placed her hand in his. He wrapped his fingers around and instantly noticed how much larger his hand was compared to hers. 

“I’ll keep it slow, I don’t wanna scare you on your first ride. You’ll be wearing the helmet, too. It’s not far, so you don’t need to worry about me.” He rambled a little as he led her to his prized vehicle. “You can keep your bag in one of the side bags here.” He popped one open for her and she quickly deposited her items in it. As soon as she was done, he slipped the helmet over her head. It was a bit loose, but he fastened it as tightly as he could under her chin.

When the world suddenly grew muffled, Y/N nearly panicked. Thankfully the weight of the safety accessory helped her realize she was not fainting from exhaustion.

“Woah, this is a lot heavier than I expected. Are you sure it’s safe for you to not wear one? We could just call a taxi or take the bus?” She offered, fiddling the way it fit on her head. It's this hour a fish feels in a fish bowl? I kinda feel like I'm swimming in it. “It’s moving around a lot.”

“I’ll be fine, just don't move your head too much. Now, just follow my lead. You’ll need to sit real close and hold on to me.” She watched as he effortlessly straddled the bike, her gaze dropping to his muscular thighs that became more prominent now that he was on it. 

Quit staring , she scolded herself and looked further down at her own two feet. It's a good thing I’m wearing pants. She nervously inched closer to the vehicle and hesitated before swinging a leg over. She teetered a little from the added weight to her head but managed to keep her balance and sat safely behind him. Her heart jumped into a bit of overdrive when she realized she was unable to touch the pavement when he straightened the bike. Reflexively she wrapped her arms around him and gripped as tight as she could without trying to hurt him. Though that fear was hard to believe now that she was reminded of just how solid he was. Now her heart was racing for an entirely different reason. She only hoped he was unable to feel or hear it.

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali  @antiquecultist

[chelseeebe]

gasoline.

so this was supposed to be like a the bear au and then i just got carried away and now it’s just whatever the hell this is lmao it’s been sitting in my docs since july and i thought it finally needed to see the light of day :)

this is two parts in one bc i hate doing two seperate parts but it’s highlighted where p1 ends and p2 begins

wc: 12k+ oops

‎♡‧₊˚

Look, the sleazy, deteriorating walls of Frank’s had never been his idea of a dream. But flunking high school and a failed band had meant limited this is where he’d ended up. Running the line at the frankly failing restaurant was more like his idea of hell but it paid the bills and with a solid team of other degenerates, meant that it wasn’t all that bad. 

Well, that was until the devil incarnate came along. And by devil incarnate he means you. 

Eddie couldn’t grasp why someone of your stature would ever take a job at such a shitty restaurant, with your fancy knives and kitchen lingo that really meant nothing to him, why wouldn’t you look for something else? Something better?

You’d ended up here because… well, despite going to culinary school, getting the big job after you had graduated and doing everything by the book so to speak, you’d missed that burning passion that could only be found in the shittiest, dirtiest kitchens. 

Well that, and the fact you’d been let go. But that wasn’t relevant. 

“Honey, I’ve been here for years, I really don’t give a shit about anything you’ve gotta say,” flapping his arms around at your suggestion of maybe washing his hands when he got back in from smoking, “Helen never had a problem with it, so why do you?”

“First off, I have asked you not to call me honey or whatever other stupid pet name you wanna give me… it’s chef,” brows furrowed, the rest of the kitchen pretending not to listen to your latest bickering, “and secondly, Helen is gone, so whatever rules she implemented mean nothing now, okay? You wash your hands when you come back in or… or…” struggling to come up with a suitable punishment. 

“Or.. or what?” he mocks, turning to his colleagues for a little backup, “you gonna fire me? ‘Cause I’d love to see you try,” refusing to back down. 

It was the principle, you see. Eddie really would’ve had no issue with washing his hands if literally anyone other than you had asked. He was positively fuming that you had just flounced in here and started laying down a bunch of bullshit rules that no other soul had cared about in his five years working here. Not only that, you’d beaten him to the head chef role. He was certain that he was a shoe in the second Helen announced that she was moving on. Only to walk in one morning to your grinning face, your uniform crisply ironed and this certain energy only Eddie had seemed to sense.

You sigh, you never liked to be the first one to resign after an argument but Eddie was relentless and would’ve kept at it all day if you didn’t, “Just wash your hands.. chef,” it was entirely too busy to spend all day going back and forth with the man child. 

“Say please and I’ll think about it,” he’s smirking now, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wanted you. 

“Please,” you frown, hand firmly on your hip as you stare back at him. You felt pathetic begging for the tiniest bit of respect in your damn kitchen but it was simply the only way to get him to cooperate. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” he goads, brushing against your shoulder as he makes his way to the sink, the rest of the kitchen is in complete silence, watching and waiting to see how this one would end. 

You readjust your collar, pressing your lips together in a firm line, choosing to ignore his childish remark. There would come a day that he’d regret every horrid thing he’d said to you and maybe that day wasn’t today but it would come and you could not wait. 

-

It’s another month of butting heads with the long-haired prick before things come totally to a head. His inability to just follow simple orders had you at wits end, because Eddie truly believed that he knew better. A suggestion to add thyme to the mash potatoes had caused all out war in the kitchen. 

“No, we add rosemary… not fuckin��� thyme,” he spits, aggressively stiring the pot, his back to you, guarding his precious dish from your grabby hands.

“And I’m saying to add both- actually no, I’m not saying, I’m telling,” grabbing the container of thyme and attempting to sprinkle it into the pan, “move out of the way, that’s an order.” 

“Oooo,” he mocks, knuckles turning white from his grip on the handle, “An order.. I’m so scared,” chuckling as he blocks you from reaching over his shoulder, “why d’you think you know better, huh? You don’t know shit about this restaurant, we’ve done it my way for years and that’s not gonna change now.” 

“Because I’m the fucking chef and I know better than you,” finally snapping at the man, slamming the container down onto the stainless steel countertop, “move. now,” you bark, widening your eyes as he twists around to meet yours, you could feel the disgust radiating from his glare. 

“No.” 

You huff, wanting nothing more than to wrap his fucking ponytail around your hand and slam his head into the worktop, “Step out chef,” a simple order that you thought was far more gracious than he deserved.

His mouth falls open, still gripping onto the now-overworked potatoes, “What the fuck?” frantically flailing for some comradery from his fellow workers, it seemed that they’d all fallen into place, no longer the bunch of grimy assholes he once knew. 

“Step out,” you persist, teeth gritted as you stand strong on your order, tilting your chin to meet his harrowing gaze. Eddie didn’t frighten you per say, but he was intimidating and if it came down to it, you probably weren’t going to be the one to win that fight. 

“Fuck this,” he exclaims, slamming the pan down onto the stove top with a loud bang before storming off out of the fire escape door, not before grabbing his cigarettes from the shelf you’d repeatedly told him not to keep them on. 

There’s now mash potato all over the hob that would probably need some extensive scrubbing and would ensure that your kitchen would absolutely reek of the stuff all night. If you could have it your way, you’d have made him scrub the entire oven with a dang toothbrush until you could see your face in the metal. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your cheeks burn as the rest of the kitchen watches on in utter amazement, even the old, hardened chefs had taken to your ways even if it had taken a little bit of pushing. There was no understanding as to why he couldn’t just listen, just shut up and get on with his job without trying to constantly argue and bite back. Maybe because you were a woman? You were younger than him? Or maybe it was simply because someone was finally up to the job of challenging him and he hated that fact. 

Whatever it was, it was getting on your last nerve. 

Eddie wasn’t by any means a bad chef, he was innovative and knew how to make shit taste good, he was just incapable of accepting that maybe his way of doing things wasn’t the only way. 

You smooth your clammy palms down your apron, nodding at Tina. A subtle way of telling her to carry on and take charge while you dealt with the pathetic man outside. 

The door slams as you step outside, looking around the dark alley for the man, following the trail of smoke to his slouched position around the corner. Now, this was the difficult part, you weren’t really looking to fire him but what choice did you have if he couldn’t just accept that you were his boss now. 

“Have you calmed down?” breaking the silence, fingernails pressed into your palm leaving tiny crescent moon indentations. 

You never were one for confrontation. 

He scoffs, refusing to look in your direction as he puffs on the cigarette, “I’m calm.. are you calm?”

Even now, he couldn’t just smile and nod, always had to say something else, “I’m calm,” swallowing the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, “do you want to work here?”  

“Nobody wants to work here, shit- even you don’t wanna be here,” chuckling to himself, smoke falling from his lips. 

“Yes I do. Do you? Because I can help you if you don’t, trust me I am not scared to just let you go.” 

He chews on the inside of his cheek, tossing the cigarette to the ground before finally meeting your gaze, “you’re firing me?” 

“No,” relaxing your shoulders, “but I need to know that you want to work here. That you aren’t going to keep arguing with me about stupid shit because I truly do not have the energy for it anymore,” watching as his expression falls, at a stretch you’d say he looks remorseful but that could very well just be the moonlight reflecting on his face, granting him more grace than he deserved. 

The alley falls into silence, the only sounds being that of the bustling city around you and Tina’s faint voice barking instructions inside the kitchen. 

His eyes avert to the concrete, with a pained expression he breaks the silence, “I do… wanna work here,” it’s like that tiny sentence caused him physical pain to get out. 

“Good,” you nod, his words may mean nothing but it’s a relief to finally hear that he gives somewhat of a shit about this place running smoothly, “Eddie, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a really good chef… but even the best chefs have to take orders sometimes and you are no exception to that.”

Eddie untenses his jaw for what must be the first time in ten years, that tiny bit of affirmation was exactly what he was looking for, “...thank you,” he turns his head towards yours, “I think you’re… you’re an okay chef,” the tiniest traces of a smile on his face as he pushes himself from the rough brick.

Your eyes roll instinctively but you’re not mad, for once, “get back inside,” waving him off towards the door without turning to look at him. 

Taking the moment to gather yourself and your thoughts. Who knew if Eddie had meant what he said or if it was even going to change anything but it had definitely meant something. It wasn’t a burning desire of yours to come in and be the new evil boss in fact, it was the very opposite of what you’d pictured. There just wasn’t much lee-way when you were given a team of stubborn assholes that had gotten far too used to slacking off. 

Frank’s could really become something if everyone wanted it and were willing to put in the effort required to get there. Sure, you probably weren’t going to earn a Michelin star but you were sure you could make it worthy of something. 

-

Eddie had mostly kept to his word. Finally washing his hands and keeping his hair out of his face, even if you had had to nag at him a little. There wasn’t as much kick back as before. Sure, he’d roll his eyes and huff and puff but he’d actually do it. 

It’s another Saturday night, you’re not so busy but enough to keep you on your toes. Just longing for the moment you collapsed into your bed and didn’t have to think about this place until Monday morning. 

Eddie sidles up to where you’re working, going over the rota for the next two weeks. Weighing up if waking up at the ass crack of dawn was actually worth all this. 

“So I was thinking..” 

“Uh oh,” you add, snapping the book shut before turning to him, he’s hopeful. Well, that or he’s about to say the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Yeah great thanks.. so I was thinking, it’s getting warmer, right? I think we should put sandwiches on the menu, and not just boring old sandwiches.. like, like good ones,” his vocabulary is limited but you get what he means. 

You ponder for a moment, staring into his wide, optimistic eyes. It was a good idea to be fair to him, you just weren’t sure if you had the time to conjure up a whole new sandwich menu on top of everything else on your plate. 

“Okay, I actually think that’s a great idea,” you two were civil, not exactly the best buds but you think maybe now you could trust him. “If you can come up with some ideas and make them for me.. I’ll think about it.” 

His grin is infectious as it spreads across his face, “I got you… what are you thinking? Something with chicken or..” fishing for ideas. 

You throw your hands up, a shadow of a smile on your lips, “that is entirely up to you, okay?” 

He nods knowingly, slowly backing away, eager to get started on his first individual project since your arrival. 

“I’m trusting you with this!” you holler after him, getting back to the mess of a rota in front of you. 

“Yes boss,” he calls back from somewhere in the kitchen, “I mean chef,” catching himself. 

Your heart warms a little. Maybe your lectures hadn’t gone so unnoticed after all? 

-

No matter how hard you stare at the screen, willing for something to magically appear, it doesn’t. The line marker blinking at you, taunting you, pleading with you to just write something. Anything!

There’s a quiet wrapping of knuckles against the door causing your head to fly up, finding a surprisingly clean Eddie standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” spinning your chair slightly, “shit, sorry I forgot to say you’re good to go, I’ll see you tomorrow,” flashing him a tight lipped smile. 

“Oh no… most of ‘em have already gone,” vaguely motioning to the now empty kitchen, “uh… a few of us were gonna grab a drink and wondered if you’d wanna join us?” He resembles a shy child, fingers tapping along the battered door frame. 

“Oh!” you must’ve sounded shocked as his eyebrows travel up his forehead in surprise, getting invited out by your crew had just.. never really happened before, “I’m sorry, I actually can’t tonight,” pointing at the blank word document, “the menu is due next week and I uh- I have nothing but you guys have fun,” shooing him off. 

It was a Thursday night and you couldn’t think of anything worse than waking up tomorrow with a blinding hangover. 

“You need help with that menu shit? I mean, my sandwiches are a hit so.. maybe I could help?” placing his jacket on the old cabinet in the corner, prepared to help no matter what you replied. 

You’re not exactly in the position to say no to help at this point.. 

“I mean.. yeah, if you can think of six amazing, brilliant, showstopping new dishes then be my guest because I sure as shit can’t,” unintentionally coming off a little rude. 

It’s just frustrating, the first big step you were taking for this restaurant and you were still somehow managing to fuck it up

“Okay, what’ve you got?” he peers over your shoulder at the blank screen, “ah, right,” he sucks his teeth, “not great.” 

“No.. no it’s not,” slouching down the chair, “I’m completely fucked,” pushing the loose strands of hair from your forehead. 

“You’re not completely fucked- not yet,” dragging the spare chair around to the other side of the desk, “I’m sure we can think of something tonight,” pulling the laptop closer to him. 

You smile at him, grateful for his positivity even if it was fake. 

The pair of you throw some shoddy ideas back and forth for a half hour. None of them good enough to make it to the word document, instead getting scribbled onto a ripped out page from your notebook. 

“I am fucked, aren’t I?” you frown, rubbing your sleepy eyes. 

He chuckles softly, “nah.. there’s some good stuff here,” running his finger down the messy list. 

You feel completely vulnerable with him here, it might have been the lack of sleep or just the fact that you appreciated his presence so much but you foolishly begin to let your thoughts wander. 

“I just feel like I’m fuu-,” immediately regretting opening your mouth, “no, you know what? Doesn’t matter,” you look at the clock on the wall signalling that it had gone well past midnight, “you should get going, it’s late,” pretending to scroll on the still-bare document. 

“No, what were you gonna say?” 

You keep your eyes on the screen, tapping your foot against the leg of the chair, “I said it doesn’t matter.” 

“It obviously does,” he pushes, egging you on. 

You take a sharp intake of breath to signal that you weren’t willing to go any further with this. Why couldn’t he just fucking drop it?

“Oh my God, you started this conversation and now you don’t wanna finish it,” frustrated that it had seemed like you were finally beginning to seem like you were somewhat human, he grabs his discarded jacket, rolling his eyes as he starts to exit the office. 

“I’m scared I’m not doing a good job… you all obviously care about this place and I’ve just come in here and ruined it,” biting down onto your bottom lip, “and as much as you all pretend to like me, I know you don’t and- and that’s fine,” you shrug, exasperated with the weight of a thousand bricks hanging onto your shoulders, “I don’t care about being liked, I just want this restaurant to work but it feels like I can’t even do that,” slumping forward, confounded and slightly in shock that the first person you’d spilled all of this to was fucking Eddie.

“I do like you,” he says quietly, stopping in his tracks, throwing his jacket back down, “everyone does… you’re making this restaurant better,” rejoining you at the desk, “we’re all just stubborn and mean so no one’s told you but you’re doing good,” a reassuring smile overcoming his lips, his hand wavers, unsure of whether to reach out to touch your shoulder or if that was a step too far. 

He flops back into the chair and you offer him a genuine smile for his words. It was really all you could muster without starting to cry. Coming into an already established restaurant with new ideas and ways of working was never easy but to be met with such pushback from him had made it even harder. So to now have him say in front of you, telling you that what you’re doing is right, well it meant the world. 

“Thank you,” you mouth, blinking earnestly as you flip the laptop lid shut, it was too late and you were far too tired to even try to continue. “That really means a lot from you,” attempting to turn your vulnerability into a joke. 

“I mean it, though,”scooting closer on the chair, “I just enjoy arguing with you too much to admit it.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, that much was true, he definitely enjoyed getting under your hair and pissing you off as much as he could. 

“We should go, it’s super late and I’ve got all day tomorrow to do this,” sliding the pen into the pot, feeling his eyes still boring into the side of your face. 

You stand from your seat, expecting him to follow but he stays firmly planted in his chair. Hand reaching out to grab your wrist as you grab your bag. Jolting away as you’re not expecting the sudden contact. 

He swallows, standing up before deciding whether to just fuck it or if this was about to get him fired. You’re blissfully unaware that this internal battle was even happening until his hand is on your cheek, tilting your chin upwards before closing the distance between your bodies, smashing his lips to yours. 

Oh shit. 

It takes a second for your brain to process what was happening but you don’t.. dislike it. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee, sliding his tongue into your parted mouth with a quickness. 

Leaning into the kiss, your hands hesitantly coming to rest on his shoulders. You’re taken aback by how easy it feels, moving together just right. The small of your back crashes into the rigid desk, pulling you out of the kiss and back into reality. Staring back at his darkened eyes with a slight bemused expression. 

“No.. not here,” squeezing his shoulder. His hand paused on your shirt button, getting ahead of himself. Maybe you had found yourself wanting to fuck Eddie but not here. You weren’t that stupid. 

His hand falls, swinging to his side, “oh.. you didn’t- did I fuck up?” still mere inches from your face, so close in fact, you could feel his breath on your flushed cheek. 

“No.. no, I just..” deciding to just bite the bullet and go for it, “do you wanna go back to my apartment? It’s not far,” blinded by the haze of lust that was filling the small room to the brim. 

His eyes grow wide, realising exactly what you meant, buzzing with impatience and excitement. “Yes.. yeah I’d love to,” his plump lips still wet with the remnants of your mouth. 

You nod, letting go of his shoulder to gather your things, and yourself, before pulling him out of the restaurant. Eddie is more than willing to leave his van in the parking lot, jumping into your car with an primal eagerness. 

The car journey is quiet and you wonder if this maybe wasn’t the best idea. What would everyone at work say? Maybe they didn’t have to know? This could be a one time thing and you’ll both just never mention it again. Well, you hope anyway. 

You think your head might just burst the second he walks into your apartment, somewhere you had never expected Eddie to ever appear. 

You’re quick to continue the abandoned kiss, not giving him any opportunity to make wise cracks about your apartment. It somehow felt easier if it was just mindless sex where you didn’t speak. 

Guiding him towards your bedroom because the couch felt just a tad too casual. His hands are everywhere, sneaking underneath your blouse and then back down into the waistband of your pants. You shove him backwards onto your bed, clambering on top quickly so as to not give him a chance to start speaking or to do anything stupid. 

Eddie’s obviously not keen on giving you the higher ground, gripping onto your waist and flipping the both of you so that he led on top. He’s got this devilish grin on his face that is so smug, you just want to slap it off of him. You chase the taste of his mouth with yours, becoming accustomed to the mixture of cigarettes and mint. God, you hope this doesn’t become a regular thing. 

He pulls away from you to gawp down the space between your bodies, mouth hung open, gasping for breath while his fingers skillfully unbutton your pants, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips, “woah… when the hell d’you get that?” staring at the black ink covering your thigh, a rose curling around the length of your flesh. 

A dumb decision you’d made the first week of culinary school. You felt out of place alongside the other chefs who were absolutely covered in tattoos and felt the need to join them. Except, you hadn’t exactly thought about it and just went along with the first thing the dodgy artist had suggested. He’d also quite purposely left out just how much such a large piece would fucking hurt, especially for a first tattoo. 

You join him in looking down at it, curling your lips in disgust, “when I was like… eighteen, it’s ugly and I hate it so thank you,” continuing your task of getting his jacket off, ignoring the fact that he was still ogling the inking and slightly starting to regret your decision to bring him here. 

“It’s fucking sick, what are you talking about?” he’s smirking, running his fingers along the thick lining as your pants hang around your knees, “I thought you were like… boring,” finding the hem of your lacy underwear and tugging on it. 

Your lips hover above his, eyes hooded as you glare at him, “can you just shut up before I regret everything and make you leave?”

He nods instantaneously, connecting your lips with a quickness, shaking his jacket off of his arm and onto the floor with a thud. Repositioning his knees to either side of your thighs, you’d done a good job of getting your shirt half-off, his fingers fiddling with the rest of the buttons as you break from his lips, leaving wet kisses along his stubbly jawline. 

“Holy fuck, you’re joking?” his eyes just about popping out of his head as your pierced nipples spill out of your bra. Another spontaneous teenage decision you hadn’t got round to getting rid of yet. 

His hand is immediately drawn to your exposed breast, full of pure glee, “you’re a dark horse, you know that right?” thumb running over the erect nipple as you fumble with his tattered old belt. 

Your mouth opens to protest his ogling but is quickly replaced with a soft gasp, his thumb working miracles on the sensitive bud. Head falling back against the pillow when his lips replace his thumb, licking and sucking on your nipple with a wicked grin. 

“Shit,” you moan, his growing erection rutting against your core, “can you- please hurry up,” it sounds strangled coming from your throat, embarrassed that you’ve completely melted into a pile of putty beneath him. If you’d have known that his mouth could be put to such good use, maybe you’d have tried this earlier. 

Thankfully, he takes the hint, leaving one last kitten lick to your chest before rushing to get his pants down. Kicking them off to the side somewhere, the clunk of his belt buckle hitting your bed frame on the way down. 

“Oh baby, that all for me?” remarking on your absolutely sodden underwear, hurriedly pulling them down your thighs, before using the same hand to position himself at your dripping entrance. 

You’re too desperate to think of anything smart to say back, knowing that if you opened your mouth you’d probably just start begging. 

His face mere inches from yours as he pushes himself inside, a groan from somewhere deep in his chest falls out, “Jesus Christ,” he stutters, willing himself not to cum right now. Sex is always better with someone you detested. Now why is that? 

Your arms loosely knot around his neck, intertwining your fingers with his hair, trying your utmost to hold eye contact as his hips begin to move. Slow at first, reaching the hilt before pulling back and sliding in, it’s excruciatingly slow and your legs tighten around his waist, begging for more. 

“Faster.. please Eddie,” whining as his pace quickens, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Yeah yeah.. yeah, say my name,” he blabbers, one hand sliding between your, thumb tapping against your swollen clit before rubbing tiny circles to the sensitive surface. 

“Shit,” you breathe, feeling incredibly full as his tip nudges against that soft, spongy spot. Your eyes squeeze shut, illuminated with an illustration of stars and white hot light. Your heart wasn’t eager to just adhere to his demands like that but shit, when he sounded this desperate, you couldn’t help it. 

Chanting his name like an oath in time with his thrusts. The filthy sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room, accompanying the strained groans coming from his throat. It was far too late and your neighbours could surely hear every single thing. 

“Fuck,” he breathes and you can feel his hips stutter, “you gonna cum for me? Huh?” dropping his forehead to rest against yours. 

Your thighs squeeze around his torso at the words, feeling yourself grow closer to your impending orgasm. His thumb still expertly rubbing your clit, slow but deep thrusts as he nears his own end. Your brain too hazy to think coherently about anything as you tighten around him, overcome with the blinding pleasure of your orgasm. 

“Yesyesyes,” you garble, trembling as you come undone completely, back arching from the mattress which brings your bodies impossibly close. Tugging gently on his curls as a means of encouragement, not that he needed it. 

“Ohhh fuck yeah.. shit,” unable to stop himself in time, spurting thick ropes of cum inside of you. You’re too fucked out to truly think about the implications yet, still gasping for air as he pumps his cock a few measly times before pulling out and sitting up on his knees. 

His wild hair stuck to his moist forehead as he looms above, trying to catch his own breath between your knees. “I’m so sorry.. you’re not.. you can’t get pregnant, can you?” one hand coming to rest on your thigh. 

Your eyes roll on their own, accelerating back to Earth at an insane pace, “no,” reshuffling so you laid comfortably on the pillow, “but you can’t do that again,” glaring up at him without any realisation as to what you just said. 

“Again?” his brows raise, still poised between your legs, “there’s a next time?” 

You huff, turning on your side, away from Eddie and his stupid doe eyes and that ridiculous smirk. Reaching down to grab a shirt from your bedside table while he chuckles to himself. 

Ashamedly, your heart skips a beat when he slides in behind you, pressing his body into yours. You were losing it, and embarrassingly quickly too. Ah fuck. 

-

A hand snaking around your waist pulls you from your sleep and for a brief moment you start to think someone had broken in and decided to crawl into bed with you. Until said hand creeps down to your hip and those lips you’d hung off last night press a small kiss to your shoulder. 

“Morning,” you grumble, placing your hand atop of his to stop it creeping into the waistband of your shorts.  

“Ah c’mon..” frowning against your back, “best way to start a long day.” 

“I have to get ready for work, so do you actually,” keeping your head firmly on the pillow, there were no real intentions of getting up. Not yet. 

“Hmm.. five minutes,” hand descending even with yours on top, his smirk evident, dripping through his words. You shudder as his hand reaches your cunt, leaning backwards into his chest, ever so slightly parting your legs. 

“Five minutes,” you agree, fully acknowledging that you were slipping into dangerous territory here. 

-

“Did you fuck Helen too?” you ask, not really wanting to know the answer but just having to know if you were right in your stereotyping. 

Every kitchen had one. The one that seemed to make their way around everyone eventually. You were sure Eddie was that one and you were the last on his hit list. 

“What? Helen was like fifty dude,” messing with the volume dial on the radio. 

“So? Did you?”

He’s silent for a second, throwing his hands into the air, “it was one time,” raging that you’d caught him out on such a baseless accusation. 

“I knew it,” nodding smugly to yourself, he most definitely has the aura of the kitchen bike and that was for sure. 

“Yeah but… you’re like actually hot and I know what you’re thinking but no, I am not a slut… it was once and we were drunk and that was it, so you can shut up,” deciding to turn the stereo off, not a fan of your choice of Taylor Swift records. 

“I’m like… actually hot?” mimicking his tone. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head, of course that’d be the only part of the sentence you picked up on, “hon, you don’t notice me pop a boner everytime we argue?”

Your face screws up, unsure of whether to take it as a compliment or if you should be speaking to HR, “wasn’t generally looking in that direction if I’m honest,” swinging round into the car park, just past Eddie’s abandoned van, “thanks though… I think,” smiling at him as you gather your things. 

“It was a compliment, by the way,” stepping out of your car, tapping the doors of his rusty old van before walking inside, going on and on about Peggy (his van) and how important she was to him. 

You’re not entirely paying attention as you walk into the kitchen, startled by the presence of somebody already clattering about in there. Eddie follows closely behind, just as confused as you that anybody sane would be here this early. 

“Hello?” you call out, rounding the corner to spot Marcus who had taken it upon himself to come in early to start prep, making a monumental mess of the counter. 

“Oh yeah, hey… I wanted to start now ‘cause I need to leave early- you two came in together?” perplexed by the sight of Eddie peering over your shoulder, the batter covered wooden spoon pointed at the pair of you. 

“Right… er- his van broke down last night and I said I’d give him a ride,” nodding at your obviously fabricated story, looking to Eddie for some back up. 

He nods along happily, “I’m gonna take a look at ‘er later, fingers crossed or you’ll be givin’ me rides all week,” slinking away into the locker room with a sly smirk on his face, thankfully hidden by the shoddy wall as he winks. 

“God forbid,” you quip back, scrunching up your nose as you leave the two of them and make your way to the office, throwing your bag onto the cluttered desk and collapsing onto the desk chair. 

You had to get this damn menu done by Friday or you were completely, utterly fucked. Already three days behind on the schedule, you’d be lucky if you even made it home tonight. Flinging the discarded laptop lid open to be met with the very much blank menu once again. An email pings through that makes your heart jump. It must’ve gone unseen when you were otherwise occupied last night. 

Hello,

I hope this email finds you well. 

I just wanted to confirm that Joan will be in attendance on May 18th as per your invitation. She is looking forward to trying the new menu and will subsequently write a review expecting to be published on or around the 20th. 

Thank you, 

Imogen Smart, The Indianapolis Star

Oh shit oh fuck oh balls. 

It had slipped your mind that you’d even invited her along to try the new menu. What a colossal mistake this would turn out to be. 

Stupid, stupid girl. 

You’re slouched over the desk, head in your hands when Eddie creeps through the open door, startling you when he speaks, “you good?” making his way to the desk, leering down to look at the screen as if it was any of his business. 

“I really do not have time for you right now,” smoothing out your new-found forehead wrinkles. You never had time for his bullshit but you certainly did not have time for them now. 

“Eh, what the fuck? I was inside of you like three hours ago and now you’re being weird again?” 

“Shhh- shut up,” you whisper-shout, the chair rolling back as you stand rather ferociously, staring at the gap in the door and just praying that Marcus was too busy doing whatever the fuck he was doing to hear. 

“Jesus… chill out,” his hands are on your shoulders, soothing your nerves irregardless of how much you cared to admit it. 

You blink at him, cheeks burning, “I just- I have so much to do today, this critic is coming and I still haven’t finished the men-” 

Your sentence is rudely interrupted with his soft lips pressing against yours, caressing your cheek with his rough hand. It’s automatic, but you’re leaning into it, finding yourself gripping onto his bicep as he nudges you back towards the desk. It’s probably a good thing that your tailbone smacks into the sharp edge, pushing him from you as you come back to planet Earth. 

“Stop.. stop,” gently squeezing his arm, the other consoling your throbbing spine, “I need you out there today, okay? You’re gonna have to take charge, get shit done and do not bother me unless that kitchen is on fire or you’ve cut your arm off, okay?” lowering your head to meet his eyeline. 

“My arm? That’s a bit extreme,” deciding to turn your high stress situation into a joke. 

“Yes your arm, finger you can deal with, capiche?”

“Yes ma’am,” hand lingering on the small of your back, “you sure you’re good?” 

You exhale slowly and perhaps a tad too harshly snap, “yes.. I’m okay, now unless you have a brand new menu for me.. get out,” sweetening the blow with a sickly smile, motioning for him to leave. 

“Okay okay..” he begins walking to the door, “I’m in charge, right?” ever the opportunist. 

“Yes, but do not make me regret it,” flashing him a warning look. 

“Sweet,” winking at you as he slips out of the door, rubbing his hands together like the little demon he is. You roll your eyes but can’t deny the way your heart thuds with affection.

Whatever was blossoming had the potential to fuck up every single good thing you’d done for this place, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to at least see how far you could go before total chaos.

- p2

You had meant for it to be casual. Like a few times a month sorta thing. And yet somehow you’re sat with your head on Eddie’s shoulder, half asleep as the gory horror film he’d picked plays on. 

It had started that way, to be fair. After a stressful day or on a quick lunch break you’d catch him and pull him into the office. It’s no surprise really that it didn’t take long for the rest of the kitchen to catch on. 

But back to right now, you’re only supposed to be  resting your eyes as you lean into his shoulder. He smelt like kitchen, cigarettes and the new cologne you’d bought for him as his old one was quite frankly disgusting and had irritated your nose. He jolts upright when the screen flashes, knocking you from his shoulder and rudely pulling you out of your slumber. 

“You’re a prick,” you mumble, glowering in his direction before opting for the opposite side of the sofa, the side that wasn’t rude. 

He snorts but quickly realises that you are very serious and very much not happy, “I’m sorry.. come sleep on me again,” pleading with you, “or d’you wanna go to bed?” clicking the pause button on the remote. 

“I wanted to go to bed an hour ago,” grumbling into the cushion as he’d ignored your request and swore that you’d just love this new movie. You didn’t. It was fucking boring. 

“Okay okay, let’s go to bed,” he shuts the television off before standing from the couch, towering over your curled up body, “I’m not fuckin’ carrying you,” already wise to your tricks. 

You groan something incoherently, something deeply offensive to his entire bloodline, before pulling yourself from the couch. “You know, if we’d gone to bed when I’d asked, I would’ve let you put it in my ass,” shrugging innocently before leading the way to your bedroom. 

“Wait what? You didn’t say- I didn’t know that was an option!” speed-walking to catch up with you, incredibly eager to figure out if this offer was still on the table. 

It was not. 

“Yup, shame really.. you should probably listen to me more,” clambering into the unmade bed with the tiniest smirk on your face. 

He’s not far behind, leaping into your bed, “we can still do that though, right? It’s only..” glancing at your alarm clock, “..two” he doesn’t even sound sure of himself. 

“Nope,” pulling the blanket over your shoulders, purposely choosing to face the other way, “you missed your chance buddy.” 

-

Whoever had done the ordering (you) had royally fucked up and left tomatoes off of the list. So as a consequence of your stupidity, you were now in Bradley’s trying to balance ten packets of stupid fucking tomatoes in your arms. 

You’re not even looking where you're going, too focused on not dropping the damn horrid red things as you skulk through the store. It’s already too late when you bash the elbow of some innocent bystander, knocking multiple packets to the ground. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you grumble, grabbing at the discarded fruits with your spare hand. 

The kind gentleman had already started to try and balance them back in your arms. You look up to thank the stranger to be met with a face you hadn’t seen since high school. 

“Steve Harrington? I- what the fuck?” you remark, clutching onto the produce so as to not cause another collapse. 

“Holy shit, it’s you,” he’s utterly dumbfounded, staring back at your face in amazement. 

You’re suddenly extremely aware of your dirty uniform and messy hair, eyeing his well pressed suit and just general put-togetherness. His hair still perfectly styled though just a bit shorter now. 

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you lived in Indiana anymore?” the last you’d heard of him, his father had sent him away to his office in New York, desperate for his son to have the life he never had. 

“Ah.. well, I do now, bit of a long story,” chuckling awkwardly as he takes the majority of your tomatoes to the counter, lightening the load. 

“Oh well, that’s cool..” you nod to the cashier who asks if you’d like a bag or multiple bags in your case, “I’d love to catch up but I’ve got a bit of a tomato crisis, uh..” digging in your pocket for the company card. 

“Yeah definitely… here let me,” he grabs one of the jam packed bags under his arm, “I’m gonna assume these aren’t all for you?” leading the way to the parking lot. 

“Oh no, I fucking hate tomatoes.. I messed up at work so it’s my job to fix it,” loading the bags into your dusty old car, “here, take my number and we can plan something.. it’s been so long,” grabbing for your phone in your apron. 

“I uh- I actually have your number,” he nods, not bothering to get his own phone out. 

“I’ve changed my number since high school, Steve.” 

“No, yeah I know.. I got it from Robin, I was s’posed to call you when I got back..” rubbing his thumb along his forehead and into his hair, “I’ll give you a call later and we can do something,” smiling softly as he closes your back door. 

“Oh, okay.. yes please call me, I- uh I really have to get back,” sliding into the driver's seat, fumbling with your keys, as you roll the window down to continue the conversation. 

“I will, I hope your tomato crisis.. gets better,” shrugging awkwardly as you start the engine. Wincing at his choice of words. 

“Me fucking too,” rolling your eyes as you pull off, not entirely registering what had just happened, focused on getting these stupid vegetables back to the restaurant. 

It’s not until an unknown number flashes up on your screen that you think about it again. He’d left it until you were right in the middle of stuffing dinner down your throat to call of course. 

“Hello?” you muffle into the phone, chewing on the lukewarm piece of chicken. 

“Hey! It’s Steve.. you said to call so.. I called,” he sounds nervous, like he was calling a stranger and not you. 

“Oh hey.. sorry I’m eating,” covering your mouth as you loudly swallow, “how are you?” 

“Yeah I’m good, hope your crisis turned out okay,” laughing into the receiver. 

“Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad.. thank you for your help, you saved me from squishing a ton of tomatoes.” 

“Of course,” he clears his throat, “would you wanna grab a coffee or something tomorrow? I take it you’re busy with your.. tomatoes but I’m free pretty much whenever.” 

“Yes.. yes erm-,” you set the phone onto loudspeaker and flit through the bookings for tomorrow, it wasn’t insanely busy and you were sure they would manage without you for an hour or so, “does ten sound good for you?” 

“Ten is perfect,” you can hear his smile through the phone, “I’ll see you there then, enjoy your dinner,” still sounding as awkward as ever. 

“Okay.. I’ll see you then, then,” making a mental note for tomorrow that you’d probably end up forgetting anyway. 

You end the call, locking your phone and finally giving all your attention to the cold plate of food in front of you. 

“Who was that?” Eddie appears out of nowhere, frowning as he walks into the office. 

“Hmm? Oh, my friend Steve,” devouring the chicken without a second thought as to why he was even questioning it. 

“Your friend? That you’re going for coffee with…?” 

“Were you listening to my conversation?” blinking up at him. 

“No.. I overheard you- don’t change the subject, you’re ditching work for a date?” he’s scowling, coming to perch on the desk. 

“It’s not a date,” you warn, prodding the fork into his rib, “he’s a friend from school and we’re catching up while it’s quiet tomorrow, is that okay with you?” shaking your head, not that you were genuinely asking for his approval. 

He narrows his eyes, “I suppose..” he takes the fork from your hand, helping himself to your dinner, “it’s just coffee?” asking tentatively as his greedy ass tucks in. 

“Oh my God yes, it’s just coffee,” he was incredibly jealous for someone who was not your boyfriend. 

“Okay okay.. sheesh, no need to get defensive.. date whoever you want,” shrugging as if he couldn’t care less. 

“You’re the one getting jealous, not my fault you never ask me to go for coffee.” 

“Because we spend every waking moment together anyway,” repetitively banging his heel into the desk, irritating you to no end. “But I’ll make sure to ask you to go for coffee from now on.. don’t want some loser taking my place.” 

You huff, pulling the plate away from his greedy hands, “are you done?” 

He shuffles backwards, still picking at your food despite your obvious attempts to get it away from him. “Okay okay.. I’m done.” 

Eddie, in fact, does not drop it. 

He’s still pouting when you climb into bed, sighing to himself like a pathetic old dog. Except now, he’d become desperate and slightly weird about it. Making all sorts of promises and hypothetical dates for you two to go on. 

“Why don’t we go for coffee tomorrow? I’ll even pay,” walking his fingers along your side. 

“Eddie please, can you stop? Who am I in bed with right now? Because it’s not Steve, I can tell you that,” exasperated by his incessant attempts to piss you off. 

“Okay.. okayy,” retiring this tired bit for the night at long last, “you’re still taking me to work, right?” settling his hand on your waist, cuddling into your back. 

“Yes, you bum,” switching the lamp off before setting your head on the pillow. 

“I’m not a bum,” feeling him frown against your back, “it’s not my fault you refuse to get in my van.” 

“It’s a death trap, I’d rather risk walking along the highway,” smiling into the darkness. 

“Yeah whatever, good night,” he mumbles, pretending to be pissed off until you feel the tiniest, sweetest kiss to your shoulder. 

-

You’re running late, as usual. Something about the bookings being fucked for tonight meaning you were either going to have a full restaurant or have absolutely no one show up. 

It didn’t matter to you, not right now anyway because you’re jogging along the sidewalk to get to the dang café before Steve thinks you’ve abandoned him.  

You’re huffing and puffing when you shove open the door, making a royal fool of yourself as anyone would believe you’ve just sprinted in a marathon to get here. 

Steve jolts up the second he hears the door go, giving you a small wave from his table in the corner. It’s a relief that he hadn’t just up and left considering you were fifteen minutes late. 

“I am so so sorry,” you say hurriedly, sliding into the other chair, “another crisis and obviously I’m the only one who’s capable of fixing things so..” you stop your rambling to look at him properly, “sorry- you don’t care, shit did you order?” 

He chuckles nervously, “yeah.. I didn’t know what you wanted so I didn’t get you anything,” he stands up, “what d’ya get?” 

“Uhh a cappuccino would be great.. thanks,” setting your bag down on the vacant chair beside you. 

You chat about nothing and everything for a while until Steve turns the conversation back to high school. Now, you and Steve had a weird relationship during high school; hung around the same group, had a massive crush on the guy and was pretty certain that he at least liked you too. It had just never amounted to anything. 

“I remember in school, you always used to cook shit for us.. it’s crazy that you’ve got your own restaurant now,” shaking his head in slight disbelief. 

You’d bring tupperware full to the brim with whatever random shit you’d cooked up the night before. Forcing your friends to eat it and share their opinions no matter how harsh they could be. 

“It’s not really my restaurant,” sipping the cappuccino he’d kindly bought, “I just run it and make sure it doesn’t burn down or go bankrupt,” laughing to yourself. 

“So it’s technically yours..” fingers fiddling around with the empty sugar packet, “I’ll have to come by sometime, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.” 

“I mean, I could probably get you in tomorrow.. if you wanted?” 

“Well yeah, that sounds great,” smiling earnestly across the table. 

“Great! I’ll text you the details later but you should definitely bring your wife, I’d love to meet her,” you vaguely remember seeing the extravagant wedding pictures on Facebook a few years back. 

You hadn’t paid much attention as to who he’d married just recalled noticing the absolutely gargantuan manor house in the back and how stunning her dress was. 

His smile fades and his mouth opens to speak but doesn’t manage to squeeze anything out. You get the feeling that that might have been the wrong thing to say. Immediately wanting to slide down your seat and hide under the table. 

Steve takes it well though, laughing softly, “Ah.. not anymore but uh- thank you for bringing that back up,” playfully shaking his head. 

“Oh no, oh my God.. I’m sorry,” grimacing because of your big fat mouth, “I thought I’d seen it on Facebook but maybe that wasn’t you.. oh fuck.” 

“No.. it probably was me, we just- yeah not anymore,” wiggling his empty hand in your direction, only just now are you noticing the lack of a ring. 

“I’m sorry,” smiling apologetically, “I’ve gotta ask though.. what happened?” 

He sits back in his chair, preparing for the absolute novel of a story he was about to tell, “well, my dad moved me to New York, wanted me to learn how to be a man or whatever,” waving his arms about, “and I met the love of my life- I thought I met the love of my life.. we got married and it was great for a little while but she..” he inhales, recalling the still bitter memories, “..obviously didn’t feel the same way,” you’re sat eager eyed, waiting for the real gossip, “she was fucking her boss.. whole time.” 

“Shittt…” baring your teeth in a pained expression, “that’s awful Steve, I’m so sorry,” gingerly patting his outstretched arm, “what a bitch.” 

He nods along, “yeah she is,” his fingers drum a rhythm into the table, “that’s why I’m back here… I’m sick of New York.” 

“God,” guilt rising into your chest for being the one to bring that back up, “at least you’re home now, right? Must be nice seeing everyone again,” your eyes flitting to your phone that had lit up for the umpteenth time. 

eds:) : when r u coming back?? 

eds:) : helloooo? 

eds:) : stop fucking ur boyfriend and come back 2 work 

eds:) : i’m being serious now we need u 

Steve follows your gaze to your phone screen, realising that you’d been sitting here for a while now and he’d just pulled you from your work to talk about his messy divorce. “Work?” 

You look back at him, “yeah.. I’m gonna have to run, but I’ll get you a table for tomorrow,” pushing your chair back, grabbing for your bag, “bring whoever.. I’ll text you the details!” offering him a small smile as you rush out of the busy cafe not bothering to wait for his reply. 

-

Eddie is just as irritating as expected when you get back, hanging off of your arm the second you walk in the door. 

“So, you just had coffee? You were gone a long time, man,” an attempt to play off his jealousy, though it was hardly working. 

“Don’t call me man, and yep, just coffee. Like I’ve said a hundred times before,” hanging up your bag and tying the apron around your waist. 

“Right.. he wasn’t tryna do anything though, was he? ‘Cause I can tell him straight if you need me to,” hanging around your ankles like a lost puppy dog. 

“He’s in the middle of a divorce. I don’t think you need to do anything, big boy,” gently patting his arm. 

“Ohh so that’s why he’s back and trying to fuck you now.. I get his game.” 

You turn to face him, sandwiched between his body and the rusty lockers, “will you just relax? Please,” running your hands down his chest. 

Eddie frowns slightly, but nods, “he’s got nothin’ on me anyway..” a silhouette of a smirk forming on his face, “you know who’s givin’ it to ya good,” planting his lips on yours before you get the chance to express your utter disgust. 

You’re smiling when he pulls back but push him away from you regardless, “do not ever say that shit to me again,” tightening the straps around your waist, walking away from the freak and into whatever hell awaits you in the kitchen.  

-

It’s not very surprising that Steve comes in alone, your heart aches a little seeing him sat at the table on his own. 

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is watching your face with a foul scowl on his. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you announce that you’re going to see how he is, practically snarling at the thought. 

He knows the dish in front of him is Steve’s order, he’d audibly criticised the fact that Steve had removed the mushrooms from his food, is he a fucking toddler or something? 

His eyes dart around the room, pursing his lips as he prepares to maybe just let the glob of spit fall out of his mouth and accidentally into Steve’s childish dinner. 

“Don’t,” Tina’s hand clamps over his mouth, stopping his despicable plans in motion. 

“I wasn’t actually gonna do it,” he protests, glowering at his co-worker. He definitely was going to do it and she knew it. 

“Leave him alone,” flashing him that universally understood look that tells him not to even dare, “can you blame her, though? Meow,” grinning as her eyes flicker to you and Steve through the tiny window. 

Eddie kisses the back of his teeth, whipping the dish towel at her, “ha ha very funny,” she’s desperate to rile him up as much as possible, taunting him with her mean quips. 

His eyes slide to the window, met with the image of you absolutely cracking up at something Steve had said. It was the kinda laugh he loved to force out of you, usually late at night when you were overly tired and a little hazy. Unheard by most people. It was a slight comfort to know that Steve definitely wasn’t that funny, he could almost bank on it. 

It’s like torture watching the pair of you interact for what feels like forever. Pulling his eyes away, deciding to go for a cigarette instead of putting himself through any more of that. 

The air outside is still, it’s getting colder again but it seemed like Indiana was still hanging onto the dregs of summer; the sky illuminated with streaks of pink and orange. Maybe that’s what he was doing? Desperately clawing to keep your thing alive all the while you were trying to wriggle out of it. 

He’s harshly pulled out of his self-pitying cloud, “Eddie?” you call out of the door, bounding over to where he was slouched against the brick wall, “thank you for doing that.. he said it’s great,” your toothy grin making an appearance. 

Eddie grunts something in response, trying desperately not to think of you smiling at Steve like that. 

“What? You okay? Why’re you being weird?” 

“I’m not being weird,” he shrugs, lying through his teeth. He couldn’t help it, his heart twisting and contorting with every mention of that prick's name. 

“Yes you are,” sighing softly, “you’re actually jealous? I thought you were just joking,” stepping toward him as he throws the cigarette to the floor. 

His eyes eventually find yours, “I’m not.. jealous,” curling his finger into the bow of your apron strap, using it to pull you in, “I don’t get jealous,” another blatant lie. 

“Mhm is that right?” you giggle, his behaviour over the past few days had proven that statement to be false. Wrapping your arms around his waist as your cheek begins to rest on his chest. 

Desperately trying to convince himself that this is a sign. That if you’d really wanted to, you’d be in there, doing this with Steve. But you’re not. You’re here. You’re clinging onto him and everything is fine. 

-

The door handle at the front of the store rattles a couple times before whoever is behind it gives up and knocks, you all look at each other slightly confused before Eddie takes the plunge and goes to answer. You’re standing behind the counter with a guarded expression, not prepared for whatever crazy was trying to get in at stupid o’clock in the morning. 

Steve is standing behind the open door with an apologetic smile, holding up a takeaway cup obviously bought for you. Eddie is less than thrilled, skulking back into the kitchen with the most horrendous scowl plastered on his face. 

“I’m sorry.. I should’ve text first,” kicking the door shut behind him, offering out the warm cup for you to take. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, “yeah.. that would’ve been a good idea, thank you though,” gladly taking his offering. 

“I just wanted to say thank you for last night, I didn’t catch you before I left so thought I’d stop by,” sipping on his own coffee, poised in the middle of the restaurant floor. 

Eddie’s stood leaning against the wall that separates the kitchen from the front of house, arms crossed against his chest. Disapproving glare set solidly on Steve. 

“Yeah absolutely, I’m glad you liked it,” smiling fondly at the man, sipping appreciatively on your cappuccino. 

“I uh- I have a question for you,” his eyes flit to Eddie who was still stood with his eyes narrowed, scowling, “in private.. if that’s alright?” 

You spin to look at Eddie, nodding towards the back, “I’ll meet you in my office in a minute,” shooing him off, “please.” 

He snarls back at you, looking back over his shoulder to shoot daggers into Steve before eventually disappearing into the kitchen. For someone acting so jealous, you’d think you’d have been in a committed relationship for years. 

Rolling your eyes as you trundle closer to Steve, “ignore him.” 

“He a handful?” 

“Mm and a mouthful sometimes,” perching on one of the tables, totally oblivious to your innuendo. 

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, blinking ferociously as you finally catch on. 

“Oh no- I just meant he’s like.. rude,” stumbling over your words, cheeks beginning to burn. 

“I know what you meant,” Steve assures, though he looked a little flustered himself. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, “just continue,” rolling your hand, desperate for him to forget you’d opened your mouth.

He clears his throat, “so I was talking to my buddy.. he owns Garson’s in the city and he was saying there’s a spot opening for a sous,” glancing at you, “I just mentioned your name and I’ll give you his number but he said he’d love to meet you,” his mouth twitching into a smile. 

Well, that was not at all what you were expecting.  

In fact, it was a massive curveball ball that you’d not rehearsed a response to. 

Garson’s was insane, they’d just earned their first star and everybody who was anybody was trying to get a reservation. It would be career defining to even stage there. 

“Oh wow… Steve I actually don’t know how to reply to that,” placing your coffee onto the table in fear of dropping it on the floor. 

“Well obviously think about it, I’ll text you his details later, he seemed pretty eager to get someone in so.. don’t take too long,” drumming his fingers onto the table. 

“Yeah.. right, holy shit,” you remark, trying to take it all in. It’s unclear what to even say to him in this situation, thank you seemed too small but slathering his face in kisses was probably a step too far. 

“I gotta go, let me know what you decide,” his smile honest and genuine as he grabs his coffee and heads to the door. 

Just before he slips out, you jump back into action, “thank you!” beaming with pure unadulterated joy. 

He nods, disappearing into the street as the door slams shut behind him. 

You can barely contain yourself, practically skipping through the kitchen to go and find Eddie who you were absolutely certain was not going to share the same level of excitement you possessed. 

“What’s got you so happy? He ask you out on a real date finally?” turning up his nose without you saying a word. 

“Noo..” you chime in, still riding the high, kicking the door shut behind you, traipsing over to rest your hands on Eddie’s shoulders, “so.. Steve said there’s a position going in Garson’s and it’s basically mine if I want it..” struggling to contain your grin. 

His hands falter, brushing down your sides to now hang limp beside him, “what?” Unsure if what he had heard had been correct. 

“There’s a job at Garson’s and it’s basically mine.. isn’t that great?” grabbing at the back of his neck. You were expecting a little more happiness than this, you can’t lie. 

He looks almost offended. Features screwed up in pure confusion, as if you’d insulted his mother. “So you’re leaving? Some fancy job pops up from your fancy pants boyfriend and you’re suddenly abandoning us?” 

“Wha- no? I’m not abandoning anybody,” removing your arms from his shoulder, “this is an opportunity to actually do something with my career, show everyone what I’m capable of,” you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just pretend to be happy for you. 

He stands up, the chair making a god-awful noise behind him, “so you get to come in here, change everything and then jump ship as soon as something better comes along?” eyes that once looked at you with pure adoration now full of disgust. 

You’re gobsmacked. Utterly speechless that he was acting like such a petulant jerk. You hadn’t seen this side of him since that night so many months ago in this very office. 

“Eddie, what has got into you? This is good news! You didn’t expect me to stay here forever, did you?” 

“I don’t know,” exasperated, “I just didn’t expect you to run to the next best thing so soon,” he looks venomous, mean. 

“I’m not! He’s my friend and he’s helping me out.. why are you being like this?” he may as well have torn your heart from your chest and stomped on it in front of you. 

Eddie scoffs, running a hand over his mouth, “your friend… who you haven’t spoken to in years suddenly has this great new job for you and has absolutely no ulterior motive? Ha, right.” 

It finally clicks in your brain, he doesn’t really give a shit whether you stay or go. This was about hating Steve and being a jealous loser despite still not asking you to be his girlfriend. 

“That’s what this is about? You think Steve.. what? That he wants to fuck me? You’re pathetic, do you know that?” 

“It’s not about that,” raising his voice, chest puffed out. This was the Eddie you’d met and hated six months ago. You were sure you’d never have to deal with that prick again. “I don’t.. I don’t care what or who you do, I just think you’re a traitor and I don’t want anything to do with someone like that.” 

Your face falls, blinking rapidly as the tears prick in your eyes. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat. He could be an evil prick when he wanted to be and before, it never would’ve upset you this much. But now it felt personal, like you’d let him in only for him to use everything you’d told him against you. 

“Get out,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction at least, waiting until the door is slammed in your face to let them fall. 

Humiliated and utterly pathetic as you flop into the chair, letting the tears fall free. 

If he was trying to convince you to stay, then he’d failed. Majorly. 

-

You’re hidden in the office for the remainder of the day. Courtesy of Eddie’s horrible words. 

And he’s just a ray of sunshine in the kitchen. Clattering about as he drops pans, recklessly launching knives and utensils onto the counter. 

Marcus has had enough of his tantrum, tapping on his shoulder, “let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” steering Eddie towards the back alley. 

He slides down the brick wall, cigarette poised between his lips while Marcus mouths something to the rest of the beady eyed staff. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Marcus asks, he’s genuine but stern. Has talked the boy down a multitude of times but this seemed different. 

“She’s fucking leaving..” blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth, “some stuck up restaurant that dickhead Steve got her into.. that’s what’s wrong with me.” 

Marcus’ mouth opens but doesn’t speak, deciding to get down to Eddie’s level, perching next to him on the floor, “and why’s that made you so angry? She break up with you as well or somethin’?” struggling to understand why he cares so much. 

“No,” Eddie glowers at the floor, “you can’t break up if you’re not together. I’m just.. I’m pissed off, she came in here.. changed everything and now she gets to just move on like it’s nothing.” 

Poor Marcus is trying to piece it all together in his head. Settling on the only sensible conclusion that maybe whatever was going on between you and him was perhaps a hell of a lot deeper than either of you were admitting. 

“So.. you’re pissed that she made this shithole better? You sure that’s it?” questioning the validity of Eddie’s anger. 

“What’re you tryna say?” Eddie snaps, gritting his teeth together. How dare Marcus not believe his incredibly flimsy words? 

“That you’re not really angry ‘cause she’s moving on, you’re pissed because of this new guy and you think he’s.. he’s gonna take your spot or something? I can see right through you bro,” clapping his hand emphatically on Eddie’s shoulder, having caught him red handed. 

Eddie glares at the man, snarling but unable to respond. Because he was right. Eddie is a pathetic, insecure loser who can’t bring himself to just admit to you that he was jealous of Steve. It was easier for him to just make you hate him than to be honest with you about how he felt, at least that way you didn’t have the opportunity to shut him down. You couldn’t reject him if you didn’t know. 

“You’re gonna fuck this up forever if you keep acting like this,” Marcus sighs, getting up from the floor, “get in there and apologise or you’ll just push her right into his arms and I really don’t wanna deal with you if that happens,” flashing him a stern but well-meaning glare before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

His eyes squeeze shut, and as much as he didn’t want to hear that, he knew he was right. Self-sabotage had always been his forte except this time he was truly terrified of the possibility of losing you. And he wasn’t going to let that happen.  

-

There’s a quiet knock on your office door and you’re just about prepared to bite the head off of whoever dares to disturb you. 

“Come in,” you bark, dropping the pen onto the desk in frustration. 

A very meek Eddie peeks around the door, testing the waters to decide if it’s safe to fully come in without you throwing something at him.

Nothing collides with his head so he pushes the door open, holding onto a plate of pasta he’d made especially for you. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, still deciding on the right words to say. 

“You haven’t eaten all day..” he decides on, gingerly placing the plate in front of you on the desk, “you don’t have to eat it but don’t throw it away,” stepping back from the desk with extreme caution. 

You’re taken aback, not at all expecting the kind gesture, blinking at the delicious food in front of you. “Can I have a fork..?” 

“Shit yes I got one,” digging in his apron pocket for the utensil, laying it down next to the plate gently. 

“Thank you,” you nod, poking your fork into the food. It is delicious and it was still warm which is an even better bonus. 

He smiles slightly, “I wanted to say.. I’m sorry for being an asshole, you should..” trailing off into silence, swallowing the lump in his throat, “you should go for it, it’s a great opportunity,” reassuring himself even if he didn’t quite believe it. 

You chew slowly, apprehensive about his sudden change in attitude. This surely hadn’t been a conclusion he’d reached on his own and you wonder just who in the kitchen had given him a pep talk before sending him in here. You appreciated it nonetheless. As weird and complicated as you guys were, you weren’t quite ready to give it up already. 

“Really?” you look up, trying to gauge his reaction. It was evident that he was putting on a brave front and he still had some apprehensions about it all but for you he was willing to ignore them. 

Your heart swells. Which makes you feel a little sick. In a good way though, well, you think so anyway. 

“Yeah.. you’re a great chef and you deserve better than this shithole,” one side of his mouth twisting into a smile. The words are heavy and difficult to get out, but they’re true. He means it and would really do anything to ensure you were happy. Even if it did mean swallowing his pride and letting you follow that douchebag Steve. 

You stand from your chair, rushing over to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you..” resting your chin on his shoulder. His arms wrap around your waist, placing a soft kiss upon your forehead. 

He was going to miss these little moments the most, he thinks. Shaking his head slightly when his mind flits to the thought of you in some other kitchen doing this with someone other than him. 

“You want some food? Don’t wanna eat this whole thing myself,” pulling away from his grip, motioning back towards your desk. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” masking the ache in his heart with a sloppy grin. 

If his uncle had taught him anything, it was that you had to make sacrifices for the people you loved. Or thought you loved. Whatever. 

-

It doesn’t take long for Steve to show his stupid little face again and it irks Eddie to know that you were probably texting with him this entire time. Getting excited about this new position with another man. Blergh. It was knocking him sick. 

You look over Steve’s shoulder to give Eddie a small glance, smiling ever so tenderly as you disappear into your office. That should be enough confirmation that he truly had nothing to worry about. It was just a job. Oh God, what if you find someone else to bicker with? Look what had happened to you two. 

That sicky feeling returns and he wants to bolt. But he doesn’t, he’s big and brave and instead chooses to focus on finely dicing some onions until you reemerge from your office. Whenever the fuck that would be. 

It must be a whole half an hour before Steve walks through the kitchen, giving Eddie a sly pat on the back on the way out. Smug prick. He just grips the knife tighter, waiting for you to confirm that you’d be gone next week and that he should really start moving on before you left. 

“Ed’s can I talk to you outside?” your voice snaps him out of his pity party, giving the rest of the crew what looked like a sympathetic smile, you’d tell all of them the bad news later. 

He knew this was it. You were about to lay it all bare, tell him it’s okay, maybe we can still be friends? I hope you understand but I have to go and work at this fancy restaurant with my fancy high school boyfriend, sorry! 

Reluctantly walking into the alley way, the alley way you’d shared many sneaky kisses, reassuring words and that one time you’d got carried away and almost gave him a hand job right then and there. It was painful, the once comforting aura of the brick walls had since vanished. 

He’s already bracing for the worst, keeping his back to you as he walks further down the path. It’s the only way he could be sure that he wouldn’t end up begging on his knees for you to stay. And even then he couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen. 

“Will you look at me?” your voice echoing through his veins. 

He does, turning on his heel excruciatingly slow. Bottom lip starting to sting as his teeth cut into the skin. 

“When are you going?” solemn and miserable, honestly trying his hardest not to start pleading with you. 

“Never,” shaking your head, “I’m staying here,” feeling incredibly smug. You looked it too, nose scrunched up as you grin at him. 

Fuck. He’s not even sure if he’s heard that right. But the blood rushes back through his body and he almost crumbles, falling to his knees to thank whichever being up there had answered his prayers. The glum look he’d seemed to possess had vanished, grinning like a fucking maniac as he bounds over to you. One minute you’re on the floor and the next you’re being spun around, his arms almost crushing you. 

“What? Why’d you change your mind? I- fuck I’m so happy,” setting you back on solid ground, much to your relief. 

“Well, the thing is.. there’s this guy who works here, he’s a bit of an asshole but for some reason I really like him and he’s convinced me to stay,” fingers digging into his biceps, still afraid that you might become airborne at any moment. 

There’s not time to catch your breath before he’s crashing his lips into yours with great force, sending you flying backwards against the wall. His hands grabbing at anything he could touch, travelling the length of your body to brace your cheeks. Keeping you steady, making sure this was actually real. Christ, he thinks he loves you. 

Scrap that, he’s fucking certain that he loves you. 

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: INFJ, late 20s. I’m not the OP of this post, but I relate to it: post/772954996196229120. Afaik I don’t have ADHD, but I know I have social anxiety. I have a similar issue about feeling like my mind is empty a lot. There may be some superficial ideas floating around, but they are not very well-developed or well-sorted, so they feel elusive.

When I read, I struggle with retaining and recalling information in a structured way, so I often am not able to contribute much. On top of that, in social settings, it often takes me a long time to process what people are discussing in the moment, so I almost always fail to generate a response in time. Of course, having social anxiety does not help, because a lot of mental energy is spent on warding off negative thoughts and emotions over these issues.

For example, I’m always thinking about how I need to come up with a response or people will find me weird for being silent. Even if I recall something that is loosely connected, I often hesitate to say it, because it’s as if all my memories of it are faint – like I haven’t learned about it in-depth and I won’t be able to develop it on the spot.

Putting that pressure on myself makes it harder to participate and I end up judging myself harshly for it (as someone incapable of deep thought and adaptability at once). I also tend to believe that others will do the same and find me unworthy to be around, which makes matters worse. I almost feel like the ideal social setting for me would be just to ask people questions and listen to them talk. But pushing the burden of keeping the conversation going on the other person is not realistic.

1-on-1 interactions make me anxious because I worry I’ll run out of things to say, but that’s where a lot of opportunities to get closer lie, so I’m scared I’ll never be able to make friends with anyone.I am going to therapy for social anxiety. I’ve been learning about my harmful thought patterns and trying to disarm them. My shame still often gets the best of me, unfortunately, and it’s very hard to deal with it when I’m in the middle of an interaction.

On the side, I’m trying to learn about things that interest me, but it’s a slow process (and the memory thing is an issue). I tend to feel sad and discouraged about these shortcomings, then try to pick myself up again, in a constant loop. I would love to hear your thoughts on what is going on cognitive function-wise and how to improve. :(

-----------------

The Type Dev guide already includes information about function development. Social anxiety and shame are common INFJ topics because of how they relate to auxiliary Fe development. There is already a lot of information available to you, so have you read through it and implemented the advice? Generally speaking, people find the suggestions useful. However, if the suggestions don't work well for you, then you have to consider the possibility that you simply aren't ready.

The fact of the matter is that type development goes much more smoothly when you have the right frame of mind. Suffering from a mental disorder often means one is not in the right frame of mind. I generally do not recommend attempting function development when struggling with a mental health problem. I have witnessed many cases of people not heeding my words and then making their mental health problems worse. I can't control whether people follow my instructions, so consider yourself warned.

Function development shouldn't be incredibly difficult, but people with poor mental health often find it to be. Here is a simple illustration of why:

- Developing Ni requires you to nurture intellectual curiosity in order to have a deeper understanding of the world and discover the most meaningful paths for yourself. Is this not difficult to do when you look out into the world and mostly perceive "threats" that seize you up and completely occupy your mind? Anxiety steals away precious mental energy and makes you too inflexible to easily change your perspective on things.

- Developing Fe requires you to nurture emotional bonds in order to feel connected to something larger than yourself. Is this not difficult to do when you can't open yourself up fully to embrace connection? Anxiety prevents you from showing people who you really are and finding your place in society.

- Developing Ti requires you to put your personal stuff aside to make factual, logical, and impartial judgments and decisions. Is this not difficult to do when you're unable to regulate your feelings and emotions and you're not even aware of how they bias/mislead/hijack your reasoning process? Anxiety interferes with making sound judgments during social interaction.

- Developing Se requires you to interact with the world in an open, trusting, easygoing, and proactive way. Is this not difficult to do when your mind cannot be present because it has run far away with constant worrying about "consequences"? Anxiety makes it virtually impossible for you to go with the flow and effortlessly brush off negativity.

I say all this not to discourage people from type development but to make them aware of how important it is to do things in the right order. Mental health problems should take priority.

Social anxiety disorder needs professional treatment. While a lot of people experience anxiety in social situations, they are generally able to rise above it. Social anxiety becomes a "disorder" when it is serious enough to interfere with daily activities and prevents you from living life as fully as you hope to. It sounds like your case meets this degree of severity, so it's good you're undergoing therapy for it.

A more deep-seated psychological issue is toxic shame. In many cases, it is a major contributing factor to social anxiety. If it isn't already, shame should probably be your first/main focus, if you want the healing process to go more efficiently. Shame distorts your perception of everything, making it very difficult for you to form a healthy relationship with yourself, others, and the world at large. Without a basic level of healthy self-esteem, you are likely to struggle with reaching most goals because your ego is too fragile to handle the setbacks, missteps, and failures that are an inevitable part of the growth process.

It seems you haven't understood that the answer to shame is NOT to throw yourself into an endless cycle of striving for perfection and failing (which is actually a symptom of Ni-Ti loop). The answer to shame is self-acceptance, which doesn't require any effortful "striving" or "improvement". It only requires you to simply love yourself and believe that you are just as deserving of love as anyone else. How can you ask others to accept you when you can't even do it? Toxic shame means your thinking is completely backwards in that you need others to accept you before you can accept yourself. Until you correct this faulty thinking, you'll keep feeling cornered, always at the mercy of other people's approval or disapproval.

[liquid-bonhomme]

You know, while we're on this topic, to the people who dismiss the idea that media is important in a very tangible way that deeply effects people's lives, let me tell you about the song Saint Veronika by Billy Talent.

Tw again: Discussion of suicide and suicidal ideation.

I'm fully aware Billy Talent is considered one of those 3edgy5me bands to people today. Tbh, I think a lot of people who dismiss entire musicians' bodies of work/genres are often fucking wrong and just irony poisoned when you dig a little deeper but that's besides the point-- for the sake of this point I'll just say, I don't give a fuck.

If this isn't your taste in music, if you don't connect with this because of how aggressively 2010s it is, I got no bones to pick with you. This was the shit I grew up listening to though, and I still love it even if my music tastes have expanded.

Now, to the point:

Picture this, it's 2010. You are a 13 year old deeply closeted AFAB trans kid attracted to women. You're three years any of privately coming out as a lesbian, five years away from openly identifying as one, and a full 12ish years away from transitioning. You live in a conservative hick town and you have good reason to believe if your parents found out, you would be disowned so you do everything to suppress those feelings. You have had a very traumatizing childhood, you live in a very unstable home. You're beginning to develop a chronic illness that will go untreated for 10 years, which causes you a LOT of pain. You have been an insomniac since you can remember, and have had concerningly few good night sleeps your whole life. You have had limited medical and no mental health treatment, to the point where you know asking for any is already off the table. However, have been told all your life by your formerly poor parents because of your upper-middle-class upbringing, any negative feelings you have are invalid and a sign of your laziness, and how spoiled you are. You have been told so often you must be faking your chronic pain, your fatigue, vomiting and migraines you've begun to wonder if you're just a big baby. They haven't even clued in yet that the reason why you're struggling with the switch to English from French schooling is because you're dyslexic and need glasses. In about a year's time you're going to begin developing an eating disorder. You've been bullied at school by students AND teachers since you were in grade 1. It's a good week if you've only cried once. You are ALREADY a year and a half roughly into stealing your parent's booze as quite literally the only resource you have access to to cope-- no fear that you'll be caught since they have such an absurd amount of it.

Now like, I'm not trying to throw myself a pity party here. Honestly, people expressing sympathy when I talk about what my life is like makes me uncomfortable. I understand people mostly genuinely feel bad and don't know what else to say, but like, I'm not telling people about this so they feel bad, lol. No offense, but like, it happened to me not you, and I'm spent plenty of my own time feeling bad for me-- I'm kinda over it, mostly.

No, I'm saying all this to make a point: I feel wanting to die is a pretty reasonable response for a 13 year old to have in those circumstances. Like, what else am I going to do? I had be told all my life the issues I was having were me problems, I couldn't figure out how to overcome them. If I'm the problem, like. You know, that's the obvious solution, right? Obviously as an adult I recognize that's not the case, but. I was barely a teenager.

To give context to the time period, I went to Catholic school. They had JUST stopped teachers from casually saying that people who commit suicide go to hell-- to fucking children. Stay classy, Alberta Catholic School Board. Oh, while we're here by the way, not too long ago they forced all the teachers to take any pride or LGBTQ+ related iconography down and started implementing policies like teachers being forced to out kids to their parents or risk being fired. Policies that would have put MY well-being in danger if they were implemented when I was a kid.

Here's their publically available email and phone number. No reason, just, if you're looking for a place to express your feelings on adults using their positions of authority to endanger children, or for a place to spam your dankest memes. I'm sure they'd love that:

E: http://acsta.ab.ca

T: (780) 484-6209

But, anyway, the new """progressive""" approach was to basically say just, "killing yourself is never the answer. Think of everything you have to live for." Literally, "Aha, don't kill yourself, your so sexy," before it was cool. 10/10 counciling. We had two suicides when I was in high-school, and countless other attempts.

What we have now isn't even that much better. What the fuck IS a teenager supposed to do with, "mental health is important, let's talk about it" but find out a lot of people are just as miserable as them? Which, finally, brings us back to this song . . .

"She was sick and tired of being invisible, Hard to see in color when you’re miserable,"

What is this I see!? Actual validation of negative emotions, articulated shockingly efficiently in a fucking song lyric?

"Veronika, Saint Veronika, You can't leave this world behind, So be strong enough to hold onto us, We're still right here by your side,

I know people kind of reflexively cringe when people say this or that piece of media saved their life. And, if it must be said, it's kind of fucked up that ANYONE has to get therapy from something like an emo-agacent rock band-- that's not supposed to be their fucking job. However, I can't articulate how much this meant to me when this song came out. "This IS as shit as it feels, but find the strength to hold on," managed to be just enough for me to survive until adulthood and get real mental health help. For me to tell my parents and be taken to the hospital after my first attempt at 16. Reframing it from "your life is precious" even though all perceived evidence was to the contrary for me and many other kids especially, to "find the resolve to keep going, you aren't as alone as you think."

"Always said her life was never meant to be, Stuck here living someone else's dream, Well beyond your window there is so much more, Even every prison has a open door,"

Though I'm a little jaded to some extent to the "it gets better" narrative, that was a more fresh idea at the time, and it is good to try and inspire hope in people going through suicidal ideation. It just can't be the be all, end all of the discussion.

Regardless, this verse articulates the emotional displacement of suicidal ideation really well. Especially for a kid stuck in a bad environment like I was.

"And while the angels sleep, All of the devils are awake, Waiting to steal your love, Right outside of Heaven's gate, And all the sacred hearts, Can't numb the feeling from the pain, Cause when the drugs don't work, You're gonna curse his holy name,"

To this day, nothing has captured my personal experience with suffering with suicidal ideation more than this bridge. Especially as someone raised Catholic. The metaphor of devils stealing your fundamental ability to love and be loved, to have meaningful bonds, just agapnizingly out of reach of safety and comfort. Because the systems supposedly there to protect your very "soul" aren't paying attention.

The Sacred Heart is the concept of God's divine love for humanity in the Catholic faith. The thing that is supposed to make you feel whole, complete and fulfilled. But, it's nothing. It's a sugar pill. It's symbolic of all the non-solutions presented to you to hand-wave away the problem without dealing with it. So you curse life itself, you reject the divinity of your own existence.

The music video is notably, pretty impressively tasteful too. Especially for the time. Yes it's visuals are also a little 2010s, but compared to trash fires like 13 Reasons Why that came out five or six years later. It threads the needle of using visual metaphor to communicate the pain, validate it, without glorifying suicide-- in my opinion.

Simple but effective: Doll girl unravels the more isolated she becomes, until it takes her life. It accurately depicts the act of suicide as a desperate attempt at ESCAPING from agony, not the solution. It manages to get the idea across while not showing any real life method itself. Genuinely, an extremely thoughtful exploration of the topic.

I don't know for sure if I'd be here today to write this post without this song but . . . There's 100% a chance. Real, accessible mental health care is what we really need, but in the mean time this is all some of us have. Especially minors.

Media matters.

[beemovieerotica]

If I can put my tinfoil hat on and ramble for a sec, I think that the ai human soul thing is (for the most part) a shortened, easy way to convey a much larger, complex feeling/problem regarding where most people are in this *waves hand around* "economic/political crisis, end stage capitalism, etc" and the current development and use of ai is just another nail on the capitalism coffin, especially for certain spaces like twitter and here, where fanart and artists have carved a space for themselves, and attracted a lot of people who have no wealth who are attracted by the idea of making money off their art instead of working a "typical" (usually min wage) job. And not to be pessimistic but since 2020, we've seen a lot of sentiments/movements overlap if not show up back to back that haven't made much tangible progress in terms of securing a more stable future for those who need it most. Is it unrealistic to have believed that UBI would be implemented within a few years? I don't know, but to see gen ai rapidly progress against artistic/creative artisans(?) is very depressing, bc we have this understanding that an artist might still be happy doing their 40+ hour work week job while on min wage, but no one is ever happy being a cashier. But for now, this ai doesn't care about "soul sucking" jobs and I think people are ok to parrot the debunked "gen ai is a plagiarism machine" and other statements because of all this going on. And the people who are trying to debunk the ai myths are going head to head with this enormous emotional undertow, because even if ai doesn't plagiarise, isn't bad for the environment, whatever, it still goes against the "I don't dream of labour" crowd who end up emotionally lashing out (and sometimes seem entitled to something solely on the basis because they make art, sorry). And it sucks, like I personally don't see a way to reconcile all this, and when "ai defenders" (loose terming) tell people that their only solution is to unionise, it's like. lol, ok (bc it's a lot of labour required for maybe little to no win at all) which worsens the frustration on the anti-ai side more. I don't know much of anything but with the internet, it seems that a lot of people just don't want to work the jobs that have been and are expected of us. Previous generations in the same tax bracket don't get it when they hear the younger generation express this, and with places like the antiwork subreddit, it feels like there's a real movement to be had. And even though in real life where the vast majority of people are still like "you need to hustle until you reach the top" these online spaces embolden/sway more people to "I don't dream of labour" but without any guidance on what to do next bc (in my opinion) it's largely an emotional reaction with nowhere to go, that's why the reaction is so volatile.

^^^

[secretlythepits]

I’m struggling. Hard.

Dental issues that seem to never end. Must make my 2nd emergency appointment today.

TMJ

Teenager pushing boundaries.

Husband depending on me way too much (attention-wise, think the man who retires and drives his wife crazy)

Constant trips for clinical trial are wearing

Must see his friend group next weekend too (they are being nice, but if we get together Saturday, then road trip Sunday and Monday— it’s a lot. Big dental appointment is scheduled for the following Tuesday—so when do I have a chance to breathe and not be in pain?)

I think my hormones have further dropped so my HRT isn’t enough. Menopause specialist doesn’t want to increase until it’s been further from my last period.

I have been coping by falling into my phone which is not healthy. I’ve also read a couple books, which is healthy, but not something I can do all the time.

My insurance didn’t cover my biopsy so I have to call and fight that.

One good thing is that I’ve gotten an hour of outdoor exercise every day. I think that’s important, but I admit that it’s a struggle to start some days.

_________

I know exactly what I want. I am clear on that.

I want to just focus on losing weight. I want to implement a good weight training program and eat clean.

I also want to actually complete my work projects and get those going.

My dream life is simply working and working out. Isn’t that what most people are trying to escape? Why is it so hard for me?

After accomplishing those goals, I want to travel and host retreats. I’d like to move around a lot. See the world. Connect with women and live largely in the Divine Feminine energy. I want to develop and share my ideas. I want to see how far I can go in my career when I devote my full attention to it.

I don’t even see my kids in my future to be honest. I want them to step up and create good things in their lives. I certainly want to maintain tight connections and see them often, but I want to live MY LIFE, not MY ROLE in their lives. I want to retire from being a wife and mother.

Of course, I’m not supposed to say that. And I fear that any choices that I make for myself will be interpreted and abandonment. But seriously, when does my life get to be about me? I think I’ve been asking that for years.

I 100% don’t mind/ absolutely LOVE giving emotional and even logistical support to my kids. What’s killing me, quite literally, is the feeling of being the manager of their lives and my husband’s life. I don’t want to have to do all of the thinking, research, and planning for their lives, and then have to campaign hard for their cooperation and constantly have to remind them of all the details of their lives. That is the part I just want to quit.

I don’t know how much of that is my fault. I would advise myself to just stop doing the managerial stuff if I were a friend coming to me with this problem. (Think I phrased that weirdly.) But in reality, it’s hard to just stop because it feels like the fallout from their lives will come back to me, or in the very least, I will be blamed for their bad outcomes.

But again, is that just a mind game I’m playing with myself? Maybe they would adjust. Maybe they would learn better without my help. But it is true that mothers always seem to get the blame, so I don’t think my fears are irrational. It would kill me to become estranged from my kids because I finally had a chance to make choices that were best for me, but they interpreted as neglect. It would also kill me to live in fear of that and limit my life.

All I know is I feel trapped in a cage with open windows and doors. I hate myself for not flying away and the cage knows this. The escape hatch is not a viable path to freedom; it’s an instrument of cruelty, because I am truly trapped, but those open windows are just an illusion that only serves to purpose of making my imprisonment feel like it’s my own fault.

———

Out of feelings. Back to the day ahead of me.

My husband will come home late from treatment. (SIL went with him this week.) He will be exhausted and perhaps grumpy from the drive.

I have to call the dentist and see what comes.

I have to talk to my teen about the shit he pulled last night.

Maybe I really can’t do anything else today. Outdoor exercise.

Ugh. I already hate today. And the weather is beautiful and begging for love.

It’s time to be brave.

[toadifylackoffantasy]

So hey this is @aisakalegacy! I discovered your blog a while ago when @danjaley rebloged your tale telling post, but I didn't really start reading it before yesterday. I read gen 1-2 + 3 on the web version and caught up with everything that's on tumblr this morning. I'm French, i understand English just fine, so I just used the browser translation to English (the French one is sloppy) and it was completely understandable, it's just that your whole writing style disappears to leave only the meaning, unfortunately (if that makes sense?)

So, just as promised, writing you what I thought from memory here. This is going to go all over the place... I really like how diverse each character arc is and how you build everyone's personality. Like, for instance, the fact that Jaeda started as a werewolf but became a witch through sheer obsession with the supernatural - which is an ark that resonates with me a lot since we're currently planning something like that for one specific character's futur ark in the story I'm writing with @selidren. That's a trope/idea I find entertaining, and I really liked finding it here! I do like the pace you have - kinda slow, taking a lot of time to develop stuff. The whole gen 1 was kinda "amateur", as you warned, but overall it really shows how you've bettered yourself at storytelling / taking screenshots / modding your game / etc., and it really didn't bother me.

On the contrary I wasn't too fond of the early gen 2 (and by that I mean: from the moment Bianca leaves home), especially of the Bianca fake bimbo ark which was kinda frustrating sometimes. I don't know why, because of the "mean girl" vibe maybe? But at the same time it was nice to see her grow and it makes her relationship with Bree more than deserved - like, let my girl get PEACE at last. Love Fuschia, love how she grows up, wish to see more of her!

Gen 3 => love it. Love the characters, it's also much darker than what it was before. A little too graphic for me and my PTSD sex-wise, so I just skip those parts (which is why the PEGI 13 tumblr version's great for me lol). Basically, the characters feel much more real in this ark. The pictures you take are gorgeous, Flo/Finn are definitely my favorite ark so far (not because I read them last, but because they are more in depth!).

So yeah, keep up the good work!

♥♥♥ I hope you're okay with me answering this publicly, otherwise I'll delete asap!

Yes, gen 1 was indeed "amateur". I've written quite "scened" stories in the past, as it is what I urge towards, but there is always part of me that wants to be a "normal" sims player doing oldschool legacies. The problem is, the moment I have a sim or family I care enough about to actually play with them for a very long time, stories start developing! In this case it started with Bianca being born, as I could imagine some sort of enemy-sisters arch between her and Alice. It ended up differently, and I would've done things differently in yet another way in retrospect (developing all the gen 2'ers a lot more!), but it gave way to gen 3 and my darling Floflo ofc ♥

I also wish to see more of Fuchsia, however ridiculous it sounds since I decide after all, but any writer (however serious) can agree that despite you "controlling" them, sometimes things... just don't go a certain way? I look at every reason to implement her more, and will likely do so more once my focus heavily shifts to Gabi as I want Gabi and Gisele to be very close. There is also the in-game reason of her always being out to somewhere 🙄

You can likely tell that I slowed down the story a lot - A LOT A LOT. Since chapter 22, which was march in the year flo and finn become 29 and gabriella 7, about 1 year and 3 months have passed - that's 1 year and 3 months spread over 14 chapters lol. In early gen 3 I was still torn between "trying to do a legacy with some story or hardcore story", and my lifespan was normal, so a lot of things were very rushed with little time to develop things, such as Flo's genderexploration, which I plan to re-explore better in the future with some flashbacks. After they got back from Isla Paradiso (so chapter 22) and me wanting to develop them properly, I decided, F a normal legacy, let's do a very slow realistic lifespan. My sims live for about 2000 days now which gives me much more space for the little characterbuilding moments (and yes, also the graphic sex scenes)

I purposefully do tumblr much more PG, in one part due to tumblr rules, also so there is a safer version. There are whole scenes/minichapters/parts of chapter I only post on weebly. In fact, I am working on a poseset for a tiny chapter that will be weebly-exclusive as it is the comeuppance scene of a certain very bad character and things are gonna be wild, because he deserves it.

I still use google translate, btw, just not as literally as with those dutch-only chapters. To make sure dutch and english versions align well I google translate the dutch version to english and then alter it, getting out mistakes, badly translated expressions, making it refit my prose better. It saves a lot of time compared to rewriting the english version from scratch, especially with a lot of sentences being completely fine google-translated. Some scenes are in my head in advance in english and others in dutch so I occasionally do it the other way around too, it varies a lot (I am functionally almost bilingual)

Anyway, seriously thank you for the effort! When I saw all the likes I went oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh omg!!!!! And if you have any other questions or comments (or feedback!), I don't mind them!