#it's not 1 to 6. it's not even 1 to 1!!!!!!

[zazaiafe2]

Full post about letting go in shifting

1) Letting go or the mysterious puzzle of shifting

Letting go is one of the most misunderstood concepts in the shifting community.

Many exhaust themselves asking: “How do I let go?”… which is ironically counterproductive, as it triggers the mind even more.

For some, it happens naturally. For others, it’s like a lock.

Spoiler: letting go isn’t a permanent state you need to maintain 24/7. It’s a key moment happening at a precise instant.

About half the people who shift on command (12 people on the survey sample) said they sometimes have a very “empty” mind (there were 26 participants, and they could pick multiple answers, that’s why the stats add up like this). Imagination also seems common among people who shift on command, likely because of the immersive aspect it creates.

2) Letting go: no need to "think about nothing" all the time

Based on many testimonies (including my own surveys):Many shifters say they had doubts, intrusive thoughts, even anxiety before successfully shifting.

The common pattern is that, at the critical moment of shifting, a switch occurs where:

- The environment becomes secondary.

- Thoughts naturally slow down.

- The brain shifts into a state of internal release.

It’s not a total absence of thought.

Rather: -> a distancing from one’s thoughts.

3) Letting go = temporary deactivation of the controlling ego

When shifting, the problem isn’t thinking itself but trying to consciously control every detail.

The analytical mind (the ego, the "controller") loves staying in charge.

-> Metaphor:

Imagine you’re a passenger on a boat.

Your ego wants to steer.

Letting go is the moment you allow your subconscious to take the wheel.

Letting go = trusting that the current will take you where you want to go without forcing the rudder.

4) Emotional state matters more than we think

Many believe that "intention" alone is enough.(It can be in some precise case)

In reality, emotional state (not just positive vs. negative, but stimulating vs. calming) plays a central role.

Interesting paradox:

Calm emotions (serenity, slight sadness, contemplative state) often seem more favorable than highly activated emotions (anger, extreme euphoria, anxiety).

The subconscious shifts better when it isn’t overwhelmed emotionally.

-> The mind needs to be able to glide, not fight, the emotion.

5) Why does letting go support shifting?

Neurocognitive hypothesis (based on research I've done):

Shifting seems to involve switching brain modes:

- Default Mode Network (DMN): self-centered, ruminative thinking, focused on self-awareness (of the CR).

- Low-latent mode (hypnagogic, hypnopompic):

-> opens up to broadened perceptions, new reality and identity perceptions.

Letting go helps transition into this receptive mode where assumption can truly take root.

Key moment:

-> "My mind disconnects and lets my identity glide into my DR."

⚠ Note: It’s not black and white. The DMN can help with preparation and constructing the DR, but at the key moment of shifting, it seems more favorable when the DMN activity drops, allowing easier passage.

6) Letting go ≠ abandoning intention

Many believe you have to completely forget you want to shift.

Wrong: it's more accurate to say you need to:

Maintain a soft, implicit intention.

But without trying to force or constantly check.

Sometimes, simple immersive visualizations, calming sensory affirmations, or just "being mentally in your DR" are enough.

❀ The key:

-> The intention is in the background, stable. The active mind is on pause.

7) The extreme example: stress can make shifting harder

Imagine trying to shift while being chased with a knife:

Even with the best affirmations, your brain would be overwhelmed by survival mode.

Why? Because the body is in a state of maximal activation of the limbic system.

The more emotionally overloaded you are → the harder it is to access the subtle shifting process; it gets locked.

That's why:

-> Calm conditions aren’t mandatory, but they are highly favorable.(Some profile are highly emotionally resilient which could change things a bit)

My favorite meditation for relaxation

8) Letting go isn’t "emptiness", it’s a selective opening

Many believe you have to “stop thinking” to let go. But that’s almost impossible. (For most profile)

In reality, it's often about redirecting your attention:

- Less analytical/logical thinking

- More immersive, sensory, narrative thinking

Examples:

- Feeling your DR without trying to visualize every detail

- Letting yourself be immersed in imagined sensations (sounds, smells, touch, etc.)

It’s not the absence of mental content, but rather mental content adapted to shifting.

If I can give an example: it's like floating in the middle of water. Your mind relaxes, thoughts come and go like waves, but you know the current will guide you to the right place.

9) Letting go and the “floating effect”

Many shifters describe an inner floating feeling just before shifting:

- A sense of weightlessness

- Sensory blur

- Light, pleasant dissociation

Why? The brain seems to enter a “low cognitive friction” mode:

-> Mental barriers between realities become thinner

-> The rigid ego temporarily falls asleep

Allowing this drifting feeling to naturally emerge can greatly facilitate shifting.

I would even say for some, sensory deprivation or certain sensory experiences might help them enter these states.

10) Accepting the imperfection of the mind

The trap of perfect letting go:

Many people get stuck because they want to be mentally perfect before shifting.

But:

- The mind fluctuates.

- Intrusive thoughts exist.

- Shifting doesn’t require unrealistic mental purity.

What to aim for:

-> Mental flexibility, not perfection.

Sometimes, intrusive thoughts fade away on their own by letting the DR sensations come to the foreground.

11) The importance of micro-moments of shift

We often believe that shifting requires hours of preparation.

But in reality:

Shifting often happens in a few key seconds when:

- The state of relaxation is reached.

- DR attention becomes dominant.

- The mind slides without being pulled back forcefully to CR.

These moments are subtle, but become recognizable with experience.

The more you practice identifying these mini-shifts, the more you develop a flexible "entry window."

12) Conclusion: don’t panic about letting go

You don’t need to be mentally perfect to shift.

Letting go is occasional, not permanent.

It’s a release of control at the key moment.

You can totally:

- Have doubts.

- Have intrusive thoughts.

But succeed in disconnecting at the right moment.

-> The most important: cultivate moments of gentle receptivity, no need for absolute control.

Bonus) Alpha, theta waves as well as binaural or isochronic sounds also seem ideal to induce a favorable state (not mandatory especially if you prefer not to have sound but it may help).

Link 1 (alpha waves)

Link 2(theta waves)

Link 3(isochronic tones)

(translated from my TikTok)

[katsukilvr]

drummer!katsuki notices their die hard fan, reader. ༄ BAND + COLLEGE AU,female reader, quirks don’t exist in this AU, shotoxsero, reader smokes,author doesn’t smoke so not accurate, so does bakugo, swearing, suggestive, jealous bakugo, smut headcanons at the end, fluff headcanons too ༄ pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4 (the end)

so nervous. so fucking nervous. he was pacing around his room, running a hand through his hair.

where the hell is kirishima when i need him the most, damnit!!

that’s when he heard his doorbell ring and he rushed to open the door, letting his best friend in. kirishima immediately noticed the state he was in.

“dude, what the hell is going on?” he asked with a laugh, half panicked at why he was acting so weird, thinking he had killed someone or something.

“you know, y/n?” katsuki murmured, sitting down on his couch. “i asked her out a couple days ago, and we’re meeting today at 7 at some fancy restaurant she likes and im freaking the fuck out man.” he rambled. he never rambled. you see what you do to him?

“that’s great, man! but why are you so freaked out? you two seem to hit it off.” kirishima said with a. furrow of his brow, moving to sit next to his distressed friend in the couch.

“see that’s the thing, i know she’s into me, and im into her, and that’s why i don’t get why im still so fucking nervous.” he grumbled out, “she just does that to me, man, i don’t know.” he murmured, shaking his head.

kirishima nodded, patting him on the back. “i promise everything is gonna be fine.” he said, smiling softly at his anxious buddy. “did you get her anything? like flowers?” he asked.

bakugo just nodded, “yeah, i kinda interrogated shoto into telling me her favorite things.” he said, calming down.

“good. just be yourself man, she clearly loves that.” he chuckled lightly. “as long as your respectful, and kind, which i know is kinda pushing it for you, but it won’t be hard if you like this woman.” he said, nodding.

bakugo took a deep breath, nodding with him, feeling calmer, but still nervous. he started getting ready 2 hours early, not wanting to be late, or miss anything.

he slicked his hair back, which was unusual for him since he was punk, and liked his hair super spiky, but he respected this restaurant and their rules, and didn’t wanna make a fool of himself in front of you.

he put on an all-black suit, putting a little silver pin to just accessorize himself, wanting at least one thing that was unique in his outfit. he wore multiple rings and jewelry, spraying himself with cologne, eating gum, brushing his teeth 2 times before leaving, not wanting to scare you away before he stopped.

was he really doing all this for you? for a girl? he looked like a fool, but he was. he was a fool for you ever since you laid eyes on him. so yeah, this was worth it to him, even if suits were uncomfortable, if dress shoes looked silly, and his forehead looked a little bigger because of his slick back, it was all worth it.

finally, it was 6:40, he had cleaned out his car, his apartment (for the slim chance you wanted to come home with him.) and it was time to pick you up. he was more excited than nervous this time, so he put in the address you sent him into his phone, also remembering when he drove you home, so it was sort of familiar.

he pulled up, checking his watch, 6:53. he got out, taking a deep breath and walking up to your apartment, waiting a minute or two just to calm his nerves before knocking. it was almost exactly 7:00 PM.

you opened the door and it felt like he fell in love at first sight all over again.

your dress was beautiful, it brought out your eyes. your jewelry was shiny and pretty as always, though you simplified it tonight since it was a fancy restaurant, and those heels. they made you taller but you still had to look up at him. they made your legs look endless and he seriously contemplated a change of plans after this outfit.

“you look.. beautiful..” he said after a couple beats of silence, just awestruck.

you blushed. “thank you. you look good too.” you said, looking at his put together form.

a flush creeped up his neck, he held out his arm. god what was he doing? you were probably gonna laugh at him, he was being sappy. corny. weird. he managed to speak, “you ready to go, gorgeous?” he said, slightly smooth, his voice shaky. you nodded, grabbing your purse then his arm, walking to the car.

he smelt good. he looked good. you didn’t know how you bagged this. he did look different though. very different, very formal. you thought you were overdressed before this but you managed to match his fancy very nicely.

you guys drove to the restaurant and all your nerves melted away as you talked, the conversation flowing smoothly as always. his car was nice. expensive even. you didn’t know his whole music thing was making him this much money. you didn’t pry though.

you couldn’t keep your eyes off him and when they were, his were on you.

you eventually pulled up to the restaurant, the sun already setting, painting the sky in a beautiful array of reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows.

“you look beautiful in this light.” he murmured, almost under his breath, like he was just thinking aloud. his hand found your waist, walking beside you as you entered the building.

immediately you were met with candle lighting, marble floors, chandeliers, and just the feeling of luxury. your jaw dropped slightly before you picked it up again, coming up to the hostess stand.

it seems the host recognized him, already telling you to follow her to your table. you were suspicious before seeing your table. there was a bouquet of your favorite flowers for you, and a purse that you had passively mentioned you wanted while you were at dinner with him last week.

you giggled, blushing as you walked a little faster to the table. “is all of this for me?” you laughed, looking back and up at him, practically beaming and he felt like his heart could melt. a blush took over his face as he tried to be calm and act normal. “uh.. yeah.” he cleared his throat, smiling slightly as he pulled out your chair for you, letting you sit before moving to his side of the table.

dinner was great, your view was amazing, katsuki in front of you and the view beside you. it overlooked a river and it looked absolutely beautiful as the sun dipped below the horizon.

you talked and talked all night, he couldn’t get tired of you if he wanted.

eventually you guys ordered and ate your food. he made sure to pick a place that served your favorites.

it was getting late, and you guys went back to the car and he drove you home. god, he didn’t want this night to end, but he didn’t wanna rush you, so he walked you up to your apartment, stood at the door as you looked back at him.

you just looked at each other until he broke the silence.

“i’d love to do this again.” he murmured, smiling down at you.

“me too.” you whispered back, returning his smile with your own.

his hand reached up to tuck you hair behind your ear, “can i kiss you, y/n?” he muttered, biting his lip.

you nodded and he took a step closer, leaning down as he cupped your face.

“use your words, pretty.”

“yes, you can kiss me.”

he closed the distance between you, kissing you deeply, his other hand finding the side of your neck. he let you choose the pace, not wanting to do anything that’d make you uncomfortable.

your grabbed onto the collar of his suit, pulling him in closer, into your apartment, closing the door behind him. he grabbed onto your hair, not so much to hurt you, pressing you against the wall, muttering your name in between kisses.

he pulled back, his breath shaky, looking down at you before letting out a low chuckle.

“again.” he muttered, almost a groan as he kissed you deeper, more longing as he gripped your waist, smiling against your lips before pulling away, leaving you longing for more.

“i’ll text you for our second date, okay?” he said, cupping your face, brushing his thumb against your face before pulling away and leaving.

you guys went on multiple dates after that, before he officially made you his girl. once SPARKNITE got more popular and they went on tours, he took you on all of them, never wanting to leave your side.

you inspired him to branch out and make his own music. you alone were his muse, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

HEADCANONS

drummer!katsuki who didn’t let you pay for any more concert tickets after you two started dating. SPARKNITE? instantly backstage. deftones? floor tickets immediately. any other band/artist you wanted? you’d wake up to the passes all paid for you and a plus one, which was often him.

drummer!katsuki who needs a kiss for good luck every time he performs.

drummer!katsuki who shows up on stage with lipstick stains all over his neck and face, his clothes wrinkled, and his hair messed up, not giving a flying fuck about his appearance.

drummer!katsuki takes you on a lot of music related dates, sometimes treating you to a fancy restaurant like before, but your both more comfortable going to concerts and theatres.

drummer!katsuki who promises to take you out at least once a week, whether it be a date, shopping, or just hanging out.

drummer!katsuki who hard launches you once his fan girls get too intense for you.

drummer!katsuki who’s so obsessed with you, he devotes a whole album to you, the cover art being you.

NSFW HEADCANONS

drummer!katsuki who records your pretty moans and noises during sex, putting it into his songs when he finally branches out to do his own music. his audience doesn’t know, it’s a secret between the two of you.

drummer!katsuki fucks you before every show. it gives him motivation, he says your his good luck charm but in reality he can’t and won’t go through a single day without his hands on you.

drummer!katsuki who loves doing your makeup just to fuck your face and ruin it at the end of the night.

drummer!katsuki who can’t hold himself back whenever you wear that merch of SPARKNITE with his signature on your back, if it’s in public, he has to pull you aside in an alley or a family bathroom, if it’s in your house, anywhere he finds you will do.

A/N: this series was so fun to do!! (⌒ω⌒) he was def ooc a lot so im sorry for that </3, thx for all the support on this!! taglist: @lillyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @taodarlington @claireeredfield @antriimx @luvvytee @flamgosstuff @adv3rs1ty @kalulakunundrum @drageonix24 @that-b-word-lol

[dailydndidea]

Sea Foam Dragon Huge dragon (elemental), neutral

Appearing like a great serpent spun from the sea itself, the Sea Foam Dragon's long, pale body twists and flows with the waves, making it nearly indistinguishable from the cresting foam. Only a glint of sharp, wet teeth reveals its true presence. The Sea Foam Dragon is not a creature of wanton destruction. It is alert, wild, powerful, but not cruel. Like the sea, it can be tranquil or ferocious.

Its sudden appearance is said to herald major sea changes, new tides, or the awakening of ancient magic beneath the waves.

Foamform. The Sea Foam Dragon’s body is made of shifting foam and water. It can occupy another creature’s space and move through openings as small as 1 inch wide without squeezing. It is considered partially incorporeal; weapon attacks against it have disadvantage unless magical or silvered.

One With the Wave. While in saltwater or ocean spray, the dragon has advantage on all Dexterity saving throws and can Hide as a bonus action, even in plain view.

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +11 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 2d10 + 6 piercing damage. If the target is Medium or smaller, it must succeed on a DC 18 Strength saving throw or be grappled.

Foamy Coil. Melee Weapon Attack: +11 to hit, reach 15 ft., one target. Hit: 2d8 + 5 bludgeoning damage, and the target must succeed on a DC 16 Constitution saving throw or become Drenched until the end of its next turn. A Drenched creature is partially disoriented by the magical sea foam; its movement speed is halved and it has disadvantage on concentration checks and Dexterity (Stealth) checks.

Surfblast (Recharge 5–6). The dragon releases a burst of pressurized water and foam in a 60-foot cone. Each creature in the area must make a DC 19 Dexterity saving throw. On a failed save, a creature takes 10d8 bludgeoning damage and is pushed 30 feet back and knocked prone. On a successful save, it takes half damage and is not pushed.

Foam Snarl. The dragon lets out a rasping hiss of sea air and foam. One creature it can see within 60 feet must succeed on a DC 16 Wisdom saving throw or have disadvantage on its next attack roll.

The Sea Foam Dragon

[requinoesis]

After noticing patterns over the years, I created this list with 13 points to score the level of stereotypes about sharks present in a work. I believe that most of these stereotypes have their main origin in the film Jaws (1975).

With the scarcity of works that explore other creative approaches to sharks, beyond the “man-eating ” narrative, Jaws ended up consolidating itself as the greatest source of inspiration and creative reference for many productions to this day. This was called “The Jaws Effect”. 🩸🦈

I've noticed that certain patterns in the creative world repeat themselves to the point of being tedious, which bothers me. Not because they're bad, but because in many cases they're harmful. With these points, I hope to show sharks in a new light.

🩸1 - Great White Shark Popularized by the Jaws movie, the Great white shark has become the dominant archetype in the representation of sharks in fiction. Often, works choose to use this shark or a generic gray version of imprecise anatomy, with no defined species. However, there are over 400 species of shark, and very few are explored creatively.

🩸2 - Man-eater The persistent idea that sharks have humans as a natural part of their diet is one of the most widespread stereotypes. Although there are reports of incidents, most attacks are isolated and often by mistake. Any animal, including humans, could turn to unexpected sources of food in a situation of desperation or starvation.

🩸3 - Forced Behavior It's common to see sharks portrayed with distorted or exaggerated behaviors that don't match their nature just to cause tension, such as:

Hunting small fish, ignoring the fact that sharks avoid expending energy on low-energy prey.

Abandoning easy prey just to arbitrarily chase the protagonist.

Going crazy at the smell of blood.

Showing a wild and constant hunger.

Obsessively pursuing a single prey.

Making aggressive shark species known for being peaceful or timid.

Attacking and destroying objects, structures or vessels with disproportionate fury just to reach someone.

🩸4 - Monstrous appearance It's common to see sharks' appearance exaggerated to intensify visual fear, making them look like monsters rather than real animals:

A gaping mouth, with huge, crooked teeth that are constantly stained with blood.

Menacing, demonic red, black empty and soulless eyes.

Body covered in grotesque scars, exposed wounds and even weapons embedded in the skin.

A disproportionate figure, with pointed shapes, a swollen or deformed body.

Bizarre mutations that completely alter their anatomy.

Technological modifications to make them more weapon-like, emphasizing the idea of the "Killing Machine".

🩸5 - Shark de-characterization Especially in children's works, in order to be accepted by the public or the other characters in the plot, the shark is often forced to change its identity. It is transformed into a “domesticated” version, such as:

Becoming a vegetarian or a toothless shark, losing its ecological role as a predator.

Taking on exaggeratedly “funny” behavior, becoming a caricature.

Having its behavior and appearance altered to look more like a dolphin or other friendly shape, excluding striking features such as prominent fins, visible gills or a fusiform snout.

Choose to portray a specific species of shark because it seems more “friendly” to the public, such as the whale shark.

🩸6 - Limited Nature The representation of sharks in fiction is usually limited to sensationalist aspects, such as the power of their bite, the old phrase that they "smell a drop of blood in 2 million liters of water", or things like "killers from the womb".

However, sharks have some very interesting characteristics that are little explored creatively:

Acute hearing, capable of picking up sounds more than a kilometer away in the ocean.

Their electroreception, which allows them to perceive tiny electrical impulses emitted by living prey and even sense the electromagnetic field around them.

Possible link between their migrations and the lunar phases.

Incredible healing capacity and immune resistance.

Skin made up of denticles made of the same material as our teeth.

They constantly change their teeth.

Longevity and they never stop growing.

Many fish such as rémoras and pilot fish depend on and live alongside sharks.

Sensitive to pressure changes and can even predict hurricanes and tropical storms.

🩸7 - Red Presence Striking presence of red, either with the presence of blood or the color present in the design. This emphasis on red reinforces the shark's direct association with violence, danger and death, contributing to the construction of the “bloodthirsty monster” stereotype.

🩸8 - Dark Music It is common for sharks to be associated with tense, dark and threatening soundtracks whenever they appear on the scene. More often than not, I notice that when sharks are mentioned in song lyrics, it is to express some sort of comparison to some negative stereotype.

🩸9 - Threatening setting Scenarios with sharks are almost always represented in a gloomy, dark, desaturated way, empty of marine life. The environment is treated as a dangerous place by nature, shipwrecks, dark caves, areas full of garbage, explosive mines or the inhospitable depths of the sea

🩸10 - Masculinization The theme involving sharks has always been very masculine. Shark characters are rarely female, while the human characters who interact with these animals, scientists, hunters, divers or specialists, are almost always white men. Women and minorities almost never occupy central or specialized roles in these narratives.

🩸11 - Villainization Sharks are often portrayed as villains by default, carrying negative and caricatured stereotypes, for example:

Gangster or mobster

Aggressor or school bully

Criminal or loan shark

Brutish idiot or dumb henchman

Corrupt politician or authoritarian fascist figure

Indomitable monster or irrational beast

Recurring enemy, obstacle or final boss in video games

🩸12 - Objectification Sharks are often treated as mere resources or utilitarian objects in fiction. They are represented as trophies, rewards, collectibles or consumables, as if they existed only to be hunted, exhibited or eaten.

This objectification also appears in the constant presence of jaws decorating environments, teeth used as accessories, fins amputated as an ingredient, and in the display of the animal's body in a morbid way: corpses exposed, parts dissected or being devoured by other creatures.

🩸13 - Death As if it weren't enough to have become a symbol of death incarnate, even in animations aimed at children, sharks almost always have the same fate: death. What's worse, their death is usually celebrated as a relief or a victory.

Impaled, butchered, set on fire, crushed, blown up, fished out or killed by another "heroic" creature, tossed about by hurricanes… In many cases, these scenes are treated with humor or graphic exaggeration, turning the destruction of the shark into a spectacle.

---

I was unsure about publishing this list as it is just personal observations from someone who loves sharks. A few people asked me for this list and said it would be worth posting, don't take it too seriously.

These stereotypes are not necessarily bad or invalid, after all, we are talking about works of fantasy and fiction. However, they could be resignified through new creative ideas that arouse feelings other than fear and terror.

Although many people's passion for sharks arose precisely from movies like Jaws and the stereotypes it popularized, it's important to remember that these same elements have been repeated almost unchanged for decades. This exhaustive repetition was largely because it was profitable, turning sharks into yet another victim of entertainment capitalism. Over time, this type of representation ended up distancing ordinary people from the reality of these animals, reinforcing fear rather than curiosity. Nowadays things are a little better, but not better enough.

The reality of sharks goes far beyond that. They are mysterious and fascinating animals, older than the first trees or dinosaurs. They have survived five mass extinctions, incredibly adapted from the abyssal depths to mangroves and freshwater rivers. They have unique senses and behaviors that are still shrouded in mystery, as well as a biology so singular that it inspires advances in science and technology. For many ancient cultures, sharks are revered as true gods of ocean balance.

I dare say that by looking after the health of the seas for millions of years, sharks made it possible for our own species to emerge from the depths of the primordial ocean. They are, in a way, guardians of our cradle of origin. And so we owe them a great deal of respect and preserve them at all costs.

To date, no creative work has managed to surpass “Jaws”. Who will be creative enough to create a new work and transform the collective imaginary of sharks from fear to fascination? 🦈✨

[eclairemaire]

the sound of music pt. 1

Pairing: Lewis Pullman x Reader Category: Fluff Summary: Stranded in a 24-hour diner in the middle of nowhere, you make an unlikely companion as you bond over the sound of music. Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: Swearing, fast-burn??? (idk), No mention of Y/N. Notes: This is part 1 of a possible 3-part mini-series. I hope everyone enjoys. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; all characters are just that, characters, and have no ties to their real-life counterparts.

playlist | part 2

You were sitting in a booth in a small 24-hour diner in the outskirts of a little town you couldn’t remember the name of, in the middle of nowhere. You had a shake in front of you, half finished, and a pile of unfinished fries on a plate, soaking up the remnants of grease that fell from your burger while you were eating earlier. 

The diner was mostly empty, a few people here and there, an older man sat at the bar top, he was stout, his face round and covered in sunspots and wrinkles that showed his age, he wore an old Carhartt coat over a flannel, with jeans and a pair of work boots caked in mud. There were a few teenagers in a booth farther down, who seemed to have just left a party: three girls and two boys. One of the girls looked to be about 18. She had mid-length, wavy brown hair, wore a purple Henley, a coat over it, and a pair of jeans with boots. Another looked about 17 or 18, her hair braided and resting on her shoulder. She wore a cable knit sweater and a long denim skirt with fluffy socks and chunky tennis shoes. The last girl looked to be the youngest and the least thrilled to be there, she had an aviator coat on over an old faded band tee, with baggy jeans, and tennis shoes. The boys were both dressed similarly in t-shirts with a flannel and a coat over top, and denim jeans and work boots. One was tall, possibly 6 feet, with dark skin and dimples. The other was about 5 feet 9 inches, with shaggy brown hair.

There were two waitresses whom you had seen, and presumably at least one cook in the kitchen; both were polite, considering it was well past midnight, and they were working the red eye shift. One was older, looked to be around her mid to late forties, with streaks of grey in her hair that were noticeable even pulled back into her bun, frail, with a stern face and crow's feet. The younger one was petite, her hair a dark auburn, and hanging in a braid down her back as she bounced around the diner when she was needed.

The diner itself was old and did not appear as though it had been redecorated since the late 80s, with black and white checkered floors, with cracking red vinyl booths, and chairs. The tables were scuffed stainless steel with rickety feet that made them move if you put too much weight on them.  The walls were painted white, but you could hardly see them from under all the posters of old music stars and various license plates that hung from the walls. The windows had neon signs in them, an open one hanging above one of the doors, and one that said ‘24 hour breakfast’ in bold lettering, another stating that they had fried pies. There was a juke box in the corner that was playing various artists as it shuffled from one song to another. It smelled like old coffee and fried oil.

Turning back to take a drink of your shake, you grab a map from your bag to see if there are any motels nearby that you could stay in, or at least charge your phone. You were still looking for a motel when you heard the sound of an engine shutting off faintly before the bell over the door to the diner rang, and in walked a new stranger. He was about your age, tall, with light brown hair that curled around his ears from underneath his ball cap, wearing a sweatshirt, and denim jacket, and khaki Carhartt work pants and cowboy boots. You noticed he looked slightly wet. Turning outside, you see that it has started to rain, and then a huge crack of thunder is heard overhead, and then the real downpour starts.

“Oh for the love of…” You curse as you see how hard it's coming down. “How the hell am I going to get anywhere now?” You mumble to yourself, shoving your face into your hands as you groan. 

The teenagers, seeing how hard the rain was starting to come down, decided it was time to head out. They waved over the younger waitress and paid their bill, and walked out the door and clambered into a Toyota 4Runner parked in the lot. The old man was next to leave, paying his bill and getting into a beat-up old Ford F-150. 

It was just you and the guy; he was sitting at the bar to the right of where you were sitting in your booth, looking over the menu. The younger waitress goes over to him, and he orders a breakfast plate and some coffee.

The older waitress comes to your table, “Need anything else, dearie?” She asks as she starts to pick up your plate of fries and your now empty shake glass.

“Yeah, how close is the nearest motel from here?” You request as you hand her some bills for your check.

“Oh,” she ponders as she takes the money, “The closest motel isn’t for at least 50 miles east of here.”

“Son of a bitch.” You curse after hearing the distance. “Uh, sorry.” You apologized to her as she looked at you in shock at your outburst. The guy at the bar just slightly turned to look at you from the corner of his eye, before his food was placed in front of him. 

The older waitress had gone and taken your dishes to the back and had placed your cash on your table with a receipt, when you sighed and dramatically let your head thunk against the table. “This is just fucking great. Stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with nothing but whats on my person.” You start to periodically thunk your head on the table now and then just to remind yourself how stupid of an idea it was to hitchhike around the country. You can hear the younger waitress trying to make conversation with the guy at the bar as he eats his food, but he doesn’t seem to be paying her any mind as he barely answers any of her questions. 

Deciding to give your head a break from smacking it against the table, you grab some change and go put something you enjoy on the jukebox, seeing as you’ll be stuck in the diner till the rain lets up. Walking up to the jukebox, you look over your options and try to decide between ‘American Pie’ by Don McLean or ‘The Boys Are Back in Town’ by Thin Lizzy. 

“Hey Stranger!” You hollered to the guy at the bar, he turns toward you and you make eye contact, his eyes are deep blue, and look almost as if they held a storm within them. “Pick a number, one or two.” You say, holding up a corresponding finger for each number. His expression was quizzical as he continued to look you in your eyes.

He pondered for a moment and let out a low hum before answering, “One.” His voice was deep a low timber that made you forget for a moment that he was responding to your inquiry. Shaking your head, you turn back to the jukebox and input the numbers for ‘American Pie’. Soon, you heard the opening lyrics and the opening chords.

“A long, long time ago I can still remember how that music Used to make me smile And I knew if I had my chance That I could make those people dance And maybe they'd be happy for a while”

Hearing the rhythm and the familiar lyrics wash over the diner with the cracks of thunder in the background and pounding of rain on the roof of the old diner, you start to sway and sing softly along with the music, now completely lost in your own world as the music takes over. When the second verse started, you opened your eyes and looked over towards the stranger as you sang along with Don.

“Did you write the book of love? And do you have faith in God above If the Bible tells you so? Now, do you believe in rock 'n' roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow? Well, I know that you're in love with him 'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym You both kicked off your shoes Man, I dig those rhythm and blues I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck With a pink carnation and a pickup truck But I knew I was out of luck The day the music died”

The stranger had a look in his eye that you couldn’t recognize as he sang the chorus with you.

“I started singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ ”

He stood up and started to make his way over to you, his food and the waitress long forgotten.

“Now, for ten years we've been on our own And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone But that's not how it used to be When the jester sang for the king and queen In a coat he borrowed from James Dean And a voice that came from you and me Oh, and while the king was looking down The jester stole his thorny crown The courtroom was adjourned No verdict was returned And while Lenin read a book on Marx The quartet practiced in the park And we sang dirges in the dark The day the music died”

Standing in front of you, he started to sway with you to the beat, his head tilted down towards you, and a heavy glint in his eye as he sang and danced with you. Your mind still wrapped up in the music, you didn’t question why this very attractive stranger was suddenly very interested in what you were doing. You continued to sing your heart out along to the music and started rocking and stepping with the sway, your hands moving into the air.

“We were singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ ”

It continued with you and him dancing around in that small corner of the diner, the rest of the world long forgotten, and you both drunk on the music. His hands had found their way around your waist, and he hooked his thumbs into the belt loops as you continued to sing.

“Helter skelter in a summer swelter The birds flew off with a fallout shelter Eight miles high and fallin' fast It landed foul on the grass The players tried for a forward pass With the jester on the sidelines in a cast Now, the halftime air was sweet perfume While sergeants played a marching tune We all got up to dance Oh, but we never got the chance 'Cause the players tried to take the field The marching band refused to yield Do you recall what was revealed The day the music died? We started singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ “

He picked up the next verse, his voice low as though he was singing just for you to hear, as he continued to sway.

“Oh, and there we were all in one place A generation lost in space With no time left to start again So, come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick Jack Flash sat on a candlestick 'Cause fire is the Devil's only friend Oh, and as I watched him on the stage My hands were clenched in fists of rage No angel born in Hell Could break that Satan spell And as the flames climbed high into the night To light the sacrificial rite I saw Satan laughing with delight The day the music died”

He had a smile on his face, it was small, nothing big and fake, but something that seemed so genuine. Your eyes closed after seeing it as you wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders, now both standing significantly closer together, voices low but still loud enough for you both to hear.

“He was singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ “

You sing the chorus once more as he leans to place his forehead against yours.

“I met a girl who sang the blues And I asked her for some happy news But she just smiled and turned away I went down to the sacred store Where I'd heard the music years before But the man there said the music wouldn't play And in the streets, the children screamed The lovers cried and the poets dreamed But not a word was spoken The church bells all were broken And the three men I admire most The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost They caught the last train for the coast The day the music died”

His eyes had closed as he now seemed fully relaxed, singing with his heart on his sleeve. Both of your voices were low, and you finished the rest of the lyrics.

“And they were singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die’ “ They were singin' bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', ‘This'll be the day that I die’ “

Once the song finished, you were slightly out of breath and leaning against one another, and it seemed as though you both had known each other for years before this moment. He huffed out a small laugh, his forehead still pressed to yours, you felt his breath fan you face as he shifted his hands from your hips, unhooking his thumbs from your belt loops to wrap them around your lower back, and moving his headto rest on top of yours as he lightly hugged you. Your arms had moved from around his neck to wrap around his midsection as you rested your head against his chest, listening to his breathing and the beating of his heart. You both stayed like that for a little over a minute before he started to pull away. You let go and feel your arms drop back down to your sides as he placed his into the pockets of his coat.

“Hi,” He said after a moment of you both looking at each other and digesting what just happened.

“Hi.” You say your voice hushed as realisation started to crash over you as to what you and this man had just done. The music had consumed you so wholly that you just adhered yourself to this man almost as soon as he had come up to you. You could feel the heat moving up your neck and resting high on your cheeks and the tips of your ears as you darted your head down to try and hide your embarrassment at your actions. The man, who you still had no idea as to what his name was, placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head back up, so he could see your face. You noticed his face seemed to mirror your own in the sense that he was also heavily flushed from the events that had just transpired.

“Why don’t you and I talk while I finish my food?” He asked, his voice gentle, as he removed his finger from under your chin. You nod, too afraid your voice would crack if you tried to speak. He turned to go back to his spot at the bar, as you scamper over to where your bag sits in the booth you previously occupied. Once you had your bag in hand and you double checked you had everything, you walked over to where he sat at the bar, and placed your bag against the base of the stool, as you sat down and turned to face him.

He had somehow finished his food in the time frame between you getting your stuff and him coming back over; now all he had left was a mug of coffee. He had his left arm propped up on the counter, and he was turned to face you, where you sat to his right. Sticking out his hand, he introduced himself, “I’m Lewis.”

You take his hand in yours and give him a polite but firm handshake, and you also introduce yourself. He gives your hand a slight squeeze before he drops it, his attention fully on you. “So what are you doing out here?”

“I’ve been traveling for a few months, going from place to place. This is where my last ride decided to drop me off before going on their way.” You reply, your tone light, as you start to fiddle with a thread on your sleeve. “What about you? What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” You question.

“I’m headed home, just finished a job, and didn’t want to fly, so I figured I’d take the scenic route.”

“This is the scenic route?” You laugh, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but this is probably one of the least scenic areas in all of the states.” He laughs at your statement, it’s a genuine laugh. You like it, he kinda sounds like he’s in pain, but he has this smile on his face that shows he’s not in any physical pain whatsoever.

“You’re right, but hey, if I didn’t go this way, I wouldn’t have met you.” He was still smiling, and his cheeks were slightly flushed again. “You look so delighted when you’re immersed in music.” He voices as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, then he rests his hand there.

Leaning into his hand, you respond, “So do you. Music is one of life's greatest gifts, expressing yourself and your thoughts in a form that others can enjoy, while having an outlet for your emotions, it’s exhilarating.”

“I don’t think there’s a better way to put it.” He murmurs. 

You both continue to talk for quite some time, everything going by in a blur as you share experiences and stories of how music has affected your life. The moment fades when he gets a call, he stands as he grabs his phone and puts it to his ear, and he walks over to another area of the diner. When he comes back over to where you were sitting, he looks disappointed.

“I have to head out, something came up at home and I’m needed home sooner than anticipated.” He stood in front of you as he reached for your hand to fiddle with your fingers. 

“I enjoyed talking with you, and would love if we could continue to keep having these conversations.” 

“Lewis, I would love to keep having these conversations, but I’m not sure how reliable I’d be with a steady form of communication right now.” He looked so dejected at what you said as though you’d sucker punched him in the gut. “It’s not that I would love to communicate, it’s just that my phone is almost always dead, and I’ve been hitchhiking for the past three months. I don’t even know when I’ll be back home.”

He looked at you for a moment, and then it was like a light bulb turned on in his head; his eyes lit up so much. “Come with me. I’ve got room, my truck is big enough for us both, and I have a spare room in my house that's not being used for anything.” He looked like a golden retriever in that moment.

“Are you sure? Lewis, you’ve only known me for a few hours, and you’re inviting me to move in with you?” You gave him an incredulous look. He nodded so enthusiastically, you thought his head was about to detach from his neck.

“Of course I’m sure. You’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.” He grabbed your hand as you stood from the stool and picked up your bag. Once you reached the door leading out of the diner, he dropped a bomb you weren’t prepared for. “Plus, you don’t care that I’m famous.” He said it nonchalantly, and you froze for a second, and then did a double-take.

“I beg your finest pardon!”

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

Anyway, I've broken down the video into more easily digestible clumps under the cut. Time stamps and me yelling at him included.

0:42 "There's been a lot of different clashing labels and opinions about me on the internet over the past year; the loudest of which (on both sides of the fence) have been quite unhealthy, stemming from accusations made about me from just over a year ago."

Really crazy how he says "accusations" like he didn't confirm it on Twitter when it initially happened.

It's also interesting how he says "unhealthy," it's almost like he's calling the people saying it unhealthy, rather than his own actions.

0:53 "I'm not here to drop any bombshells- I don't want to reopen any old discussions. I responded to the situation in February of last year and I still stand by everything I said in that statement."

So we've gone from "accusations" to standing by his own statement. Ah okay.

1:05 "I understand it was misinterpreted by some people, probably due to my wording."

Oh okay. "Accusations" -> standing by his own statement -> OTHER people misinterpreted (well then why couldn't he make a follow up post of some kind?)

1:09 "I know some people are still looking for clarity- especially nowadays, where personal transparency is more common amongst content creators than it's ever been before.

Don't be shy, just say you were held accountable!

Also why is he saying "more common" "than it's ever been before" like that sldfkjs. It sounds like he's talking about a disease rather than being a decent human being.

1:17 "However, this clarity (the clarity I've offered to my close friends and my family) would mean publicly sharing deeply personal parts of my private life and my relationships with the internet. I've never been comfortable doing that and I don't believe that should be the cost of being understood."

You'd almost imagine that after about a year and a half of being radio silent, that he might've been comfortable at this point? But yeah no worries, Wilbur, because you don't need to post publicly!!! You don't need to have a platform!!

But gosh, he's so concerned about the audience having clarity. I'm 1:30 into the 6 minute video, I sure do hope the majority of the video isn't promotion. (Subtle foreshadowing)

But anyway, back to the video

1:32 "All I can say is that the labels that have been attributed to me by social media are not true, and I don't accept them."

Don't be shy, explain which labels. Say them.

1:39 "I don't believe in this expectation that content creators should use their platforms to attack and defend."

I love how he's using "attack and defend" to better portray himself as a wounded victim, rather than DIRECTLY hurting people to make them victims.

It's also funny how he's implying that he naturally deserves the right to be a content creator, and thus he shouldn't have to justify any of his actions ever, even if they were (by definition) harmful to others.

1:46 "I definitely don't think [attacking and defending on social media is] how serious accusations should be handled."

Well no, you don't believe in handling serious "accusations" in general. Don't be shy, mention any details about what happened. Imply a LITTLE bit about what you're referring to.

It's interesting how he's using the word "accusation" to escape any responsibility. It's like he's trying to gaslight people into thinking it never happened/was all a lie??

1:50 "I felt this way for a really long time now, having seen other content creators go through similar situations."

Don't be shy, mention what other content creators or kinds of situations. Are you referring to ones that were able to prove that it was a lie? Or are you referring to ones that took advantage of vulnerable people and didn't respect their boundaries, then expected complete respect on their platform?

I also enjoy another use of "situation." Maybe he got tired of saying "accusation" 10 trillion times, but the word has the exact same meaning lmaoo.

And btw, in case anyone thinks I'm being too sensitive about the literal meanings of words he's saying, I think he knows full well what kind of language he's using. In case anyone forgot, he really enjoyed writing/things having deep, philosophical meanings (him writing that dsmp fanfic, his fake crash outs, general monologues, etc.) So in my opinion, it's incredibly unlikely he's using these words by accident.

1:55 "I know it's not a perspective that's going to satisfy everyone, but it's one I can get behind, and I hope that makes sense to you."

No yeah, it makes sense. You're using this as a justification of your own actions so you don't view yourself in the wrong!!

Also "I hope that makes sense to you" sounds really... pathetic. More subtle victim card imo. He gets to sound innocent if people don't get it.

2:01 "None of this is me trying to dig up or dwell on the past here."

Nono, this isn't about "dwelling on the past." This is about acknowledging the actions he decided to take that ended up with people being hurt.

This feels like explaining basic morality to a toddler.

2:04 "I would just feel very strange if I carried on without at least acknowledging the past year."

Nah, I think it's common knowledge that people would be ???!!!! to coming back after 2 years of no uploads and very limited communication (RIGHT after the Shelby situation happened).

He just wants to point to the video and be like, "Look, I handled it there!!" Where he only calls the abuse a "situation" or "accusation" which links back to his Twitter where he's vague and "misinterpreted."

2:10 "All I can do now is move forward, and I hope you enjoy what I've been working on-"

Not gonna put any more. He's promoting Lovejoy and his channels for the most part.

He won't do much Minecraft anymore.

And small correction to my meme, he did say sorry once!! Oh um- it was about not playing Minecraft, not a serious apology or anything like that :)

[iamadequate1]

I'm going to be pedantic on the OP: 51, ugly or not, is clearly divisble by 3, verified in less than a second with a quick glance, so it's obviously not prime. If you add the digits in a number and get something that is divisible by 3, the number itself is divisible by 3. 5+1=6, so 51 is divisible by 3, so not prime.

This rule works because of the base 10 system of our numbers. In this small case, 51=5*10+1 = 5*(9+1)+1 = 5*9 +5 +1. Since 9 is divisble by 3, you only have to check the terms without the *9, so 5+1, the sum of the digits. Every integer can be written out with its base 10 expansion and every power of 10 can be written as a number with a bunch of 9s (so something divisble by 3) plus 1, and the plus one gives only the digit itself to look at. For this same reason, if you add the digits of a number and get something divisble by 9, the original number is divisible by 9 (ex, since 6 is not divisible by 9, 51 is not divisible by 9).

The base 10 expansion is why, for example, we only need to look at the last digit to know if a number is even (ie, divisible by 2), and we only need to look at the last two digits to know if a number is divisible by 4. There are some messier rules (example: can also check 51 is divisble by 17 because 5-1*5=0), but in conclusion, number theory is cool and no number is ugly!

i love this website i just feel at home here you know

[un-till-the-end]

All evidence Till survives (4/4)

Narrative Criticisms:

1. Feels empty or that there's something missing

It could be said a series is defined by the emotions it invokes in its audience. Here are some ways fans described Round 7 and Till's death:

disappointing

dissatisfying

premature

incomplete

lacking

stale

repetitive

flat

stagnant

anticlimactic

wasteful

senseless

pointless

pessimistic

unjustified

a bad choice

all for nothing

Hardcore fans will later jump to defend the creators and story by looking for justifications, but the initial feelings and impression still matter. Casual fans will not look that deep.

2. Does not make sense narratively

@tillsfan explained Ivan has served as the narrator in the story of both himself and Till. Sua and Ivan's goals were fulfilled and impacted the other characters and story. Till's character didn't develop after Mizi's disappearance nor Ivan's death. He didn't have the opportunity to impact the story nor to be impacted. His character is wasted. He is deprived of his potential.

@cloverandstuff recognized that it dehumanizes him and removes his autonomy even within his own narrative.

Till dying in Round 7 ends his character arc mid-way, right after learning of Ivan's feelings. Only his abuse and his infatuation with Mizi were told from his perspective. We never learned how he felt about Ivan before Alien Stage and how he felt after Round 6 and Round 7. He didn't have time to process Ivan's death and neither did we as the viewers.

It's nonsensical to tell his story after he no longer has a role in the story. We can only learn about his past, because he has no future. Yet his character is shrouded in mystery with unanswered questions. @tillsfan described it: "the dots aren't connecting the same way as they have for previous deaths."

Round 7 itself served little purpose. @fandom-drake pointed out we learned nothing new about the characters nor their relationship. It was predictable and redundant. "First we replace a traumatized Mizi with Till. Now a traumatized Till with Mizi."

@yumetill noted Wiege brushed over his death and went straight to Hyuna and Luka's story.

3. Negates Ivan's character and Round 6

What did Ivan die for if Till doesn't have the chance to process it after his death? Was Till not meant to realize Ivan's feelings and reflect on his presence in his life? All Till ever did is suffer and turn a blind eye to his reality until it broke him completely. @rockwgooglyeyes expressed it as "[Ivan's] merely used as a bludgeon to whack over Till's head and put him into the grave."

@rockwgooglyeyes also noted that it validates Ivan's perception of himself as an unlovable monster. We only see their relationship through Ivan's perspective. His actions are used to hurt Till and that leads to Till's death. There is no other result.

@atrophiedemotion summarized Till and Ivan's stories are reduced to nothing but trauma for the viewer and for Mizi's character development. The motivation that defined Ivan's character amounts to nothing.

4. Nihilistic thematically

Alien Stage is said to be about hope and love. The only theme Till's death brings is hopelessness.

Here's some interpretations of the meaning of Till's death:

your efforts may be in vain by @geospiral

your life can be futile by @k9punkout

the insignificance of humanity by @theogony

cruelty of the world by @one-selective-bitch

not everyone gets to tell their own narrative by @cepheusgalaxy

not everyone gets to finish their own story by @cepheusgalaxy

your emotions will be invalidated by @rockwgooglyeyes

seeking happiness is pointless by @rockwgooglyeyes

hope can be crushed by @rockwgooglyeyes

life is unjust by @rockwgooglyeyes

you cannot always overcome the system by @rockwgooglyeyes

time will run out by @crustyfloor

it can be too late to be saved by @crustyfloor

there is always more to lose by @rockwgooglyeyes

Till and Ivan's characters amount to: there is nothing they can do against their oppressors. They are fated to die no matter who or how they love. This isn't what Alien Stage is about.

This is what the creators say the series is about...

In the very first work log:

What's the message that you want to get across to the viewers? <In the Alien Stage>, boys and girls on Earth will perform a survival performance in space. They love each other and fight, and that comes with sacrifice. It would be nice if the viewers could think about the form of "love" by watching the stories of each character.

In Behind The Scenes of Final Round:

I can imagine [Luka] smirking as he looks down on the new participants, who get swept away by their emotions. In truth, they are strong individuals who, in a space that seems inhumane, seek to connect by loving others.

In Behind the Scenes of ALNST 2nd Anniversary Pop-Up Store:

And at the Animate Alien Stage fan event:

While it's true it's a survival show, with dark themes and tragic sacrifices, at it's heart, ALNST is about humanity finding love in each other even in the darkest of places. And each character represents this in their own way.

I think it is necessary for Till to "die" in Round 7 to show just exactly how much of an effect Ivan's death had on Till - while also furthering Mizi's character development. But that he'll survive because without doing so his story (and his story with Ivan) is incomplete and thus the story of Alien Stage is incomplete.

Official Commentary

Till is a deuteragonist

This is written in the very first work log for Alien Stage available on the Patreon. This is almost certainly referring to Till, since his character sheet is posted at the top alongside Mizi and Sua. It was published during the production of episodes 1 and 2.

It makes sense. Till has been a main character in more episodes than most, second only behind Mizi. Accordingly, the amount of screentime he has is significantly greater than each of the other four characters'.

Dead characters impact on alive characters

There are three pairings each within one character witnessed the death of the other: Sua for Mizi, Ivan for Till, and Hyuna for Luka. @crustyfloor expressed that their deaths are painful and unforgettable, and yet those who witnessed it must live on. For Till to die here, @starrykorail stated, he (and Ivan) are then excluded from the purpose of the story. @verdantlights summarized Ivan's death is meant to haunt the narrative, and specifically, it's meant to haunt Till.

@starrykorail explained Till's death furthers Mizi's character development, but her narrative is already haunted by Sua. Mizi and Till were friends but they were not that close. @crustyfloor elaborated that the relationship between Mizi and Till lacks the intimate emotional connection that Ivan and Till had with each other. Ivan and Till are two halves of a whole. @crustyfloor concluded: Till is the only one who can complete their story.

Gatekeeping Till's POV

The creators have been tight-lipped and secretive about Till's character and his thoughts after Round 6 and Round 7. More than once fans have asked about it and did not receive an answer. That means the creators are waiting to reach a certain point in the story before revealing any more information about Till's perspective. He remains crucial to the story.

The entire team adores Till

Vivinos drew herself (blue) and QMENG (green) alongside Luka and Ivan.

In 2nd Episode Production Review that Finished Drawing in 4 Days To Go To Kirby Pop-Up Store, the team cheered that Till's storyboard captured his characteristics. They predicted "ALNST would be popular" because of episode 2. The team is always enthusiastic and proud when it comes to Till's character - consistently having moments of "it works!" or "this is it!"

They also always talk about Till endearingly. In the Behind the Scenes of FINAL ROUND, one of the favorite scenes is "the final moment that captures Till's shy expressions." It's explained that "a lot of thought went into conveying Till's boyish infatuation and emotions." He's described as having a "pure nature" and that "he's just a boy experiencing the innocence of first love." And in ABOUT <ALIEN STAGE : Drowning Bloom>, this is what is written about him:

Honestly that they love Till so much is probably why they're hiding so much about him (and also why they put him through so much). It gives the sense they have something special planned for him.

Foreshadowing | Observations | Official Art & Symbolism

[socialistexan]

This and Dobbs are why RBG retiring in 2014 would have been so important.

This is why voting to prevent Trump taking office and taking over the Court in 2016 was so important.

This is why doing the same in 2024 was so important.

This is why the push in the 2020 Democratic primary to get a candidate who would support SCOTUS reform and/or packing was so important.

We lost all of those fights, and now we're paying the consequences. Alito and Thomas are going to retire in the next couple years, replaced with young conservatives, meaning the 6-3 majority will now be young and durable, with only Robert potentially retiring in the next decade. We see a conservative Supreme Court for the rest of ur lifetimes because of a series of bad decisions from everyone on the left-center coalition.

If we don't learn our lesson, we could be looking at a 7-2 or even 8-1 could conservative majority, as Kagan and Sotomayor are both on the older end of the court.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 18th

~*~

1. I'm looking for a fic where wwx lied about not being a virgin anymore and jin zixuan asked him who did he have sex with and wwx said lz, but jzx was skeptical and didn't believe him so wwx made a deal that if he somehow proved he and lz are together sleeping w/ each other then jzx will give him money, then wwx go to lz room which is coincidentally the one next to jzx's and ask him to fake having sex with him but ofc lz refuses then wwx starts making fake sexual noises yk and banging the bed headboard on the wall, jzx was startled and shocked with disbelief but later he admit defeat and give wwx the money,

FOUND? caught in the sugar by occultings (microcomets) (E, 13k, WangXian, Modern, Fake/Pretend Relationship, fake FWB, Workplace Retreats, Drinking Games, Humor, some blink-and-miss-it wwx-flavored comphet during the sex scene, LWJ dicking WWX down so hard he sees shrimp colors, as per usual, the hero’s journey to answer the call of being a bottom, Barebacking, First Time)

~*~

2. hii im looking for the fic where lwj uses emojis that have double meanings and wwx thinks that he's doing it without knowing. except lwj DOES know what he's doing and is sending those emoji combos on purpose @f1sh1ng4gl0ry

FOUND? Lan Zhan doesn't know how to use emojis by QueenofThyme (M, 7k, WangXian, emojis, Texting, Epistolary, Innuendo, Eggplant Emoji, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Idiots in Love, Artist WWX, Modern AU)

~*~

3. I’m looking for a fic Modern setting lwj gets a call about a -yuan not being able to stop crying I think it was bc he asked something in mandarin but despite what he wanted being obv the teacher would not let him unless he spoke English or smth like that wwx is a teacher and speaks mandarin and a-yuan gets moved to his class @zerokogane

FOUND? 🔒 A New Term by jiejieaini (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ is best dad, Bunnies, London, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Adopted WWX, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Hand Jobs, Tears, Gay Sex)

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4. hi I'm looking for fan fic i read in oa3, it's about wei ying being possessed by himself in yunmeng, the weiying in the sunshot campaign time and trying to kill wei ying in the body of mo xuanyu. this happens after the canon events in the novel. wei ying even adopted another son besides ayuan, please help meeeee

FOUND? 🔒 Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Post-Canon Fix-It, Love Letters, Family Feels, ft. the yunmeng bros being bros, and the junior ducklings being precious, a-qing lives, Romantic Comedy, Case Fic, Politics, gratuitious social reform, as expected when wwx is left in charge of a government without supervision, Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Slow Burn, the burn is very fast actually wwx is just clueless, (slaps fic) this bad boy can fit so much worldbuilding in it, Sect Leader WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Happy Ending, Russian Translation Available, [podfic] Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket by daisydiversions)

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5. Hi again, thanks for your hard work. Hope it isn't a bother to ask for a resubmission of my earlier request to see if anyone can recognise the fics. A) So there are two fics that I haven't been able to find. The first one was a case fic of some kind where wx were with a bunch of junior lans. There was a scene where they started making out on a table (i think it was their first kiss, like a post-canon get together) and jiang cheng, who has come to help, walks in on them. Cue yunmeng bros squaking. B) The second was also wangxian post-canon. I can only remember one scene where Jin Ling bursts into Jiang Cheng's room and triggers a ptsd response from the sunshot campaign. JC then scolds JL for startling people who had been in a war. I'm not sure if wx were background or not. Thanks in advance!! @lunaloup

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6. hiya! i’m trying to find a specific fic where jin ling is WWXs biological child because JY and JZ couldn’t have children. thank you in advance! @the-kings-of-henrietta

FOUND? Coming of Age of Jin RuLan by gayatridoes (G, 3k, JYL/JZX, WangXian, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Alternate Universe, Heavy Angst)

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7. Hi! I'm hoping you could help me find a fic that i've been looking for for a few days. I think it was on ao3, and in this fic wwx has an idea to help the lans with the waterborne abyss, but only tels lwj thinking it won't be taken seriously. Only lwj does take it serious and they end up using a yin lure flag (or some variation) to lead the waterborne abyss to some lake where the lans can take care of it without causing to much trouble for the people of Caiyi. I can very clearly remember lwj helping wwx look at maps to figure out in which lake the waterborne abyss could be handled easily and how they could get it there, but I don't remember much else. Thanks!!! @m4rieke

FOUND! SanRen by Kyogre (T, 87k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Different First Meeting, Romantic Fluff, Action & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending)

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8. Hello, i am searching a fic it was in spanish and on wattpad. Story : Jiang cheng owns a coffee shop where he gets kidnapped by wen chao. Lan xichen is the husband of JC and he is a judge. Lan wanji is a lwayer and wei ying is a detective that put most of the bad wens is prison. wen chao was on the run, it was supposed to be jin ling that got kidnapped but instead they took JC where they tortured him. I think when i translated it the title was something like 'jiujiu isn't there' but i can't find @jiangcheng1709

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9. Hey,

I'm not sure if it is one or two fics.

I think it is a time travel fic.

The first scene I remember is that SS dies during the Waterborn abyss scene which LZ (?) regrets because it makes his brother cry (?). At the same time he says to himself that SS need to die but he regrets that he gave his brother this burden or something like this.

The second scene is LZ who organizes a punishment for JC, NHS and other people who broke rules except WY. He met WY earlier in the night and sent him to his room. LZ gave him his robe (?) and in the next morning WY woke up and run to the punishment room only wearing this robe to save JC. He talked with LZ to punish him instead JC but LZ said something like he would never punish WY.

Later LZ fights with his uncle because he never punishes the sects heir and mostly WWX.

I think the fic was a wip.

Thank you in advance!

FOUND? All The Words I Never Got To Say by Lost_Stories (M, 85k, JGY/NHS, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, LWJ & NHS, WIP, Fix-It of Sorts, Not Everyone Dies, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, NHS just can't catch a damn break, Time Travel Fix-It, canonical character deaths ARE still present (but will not include wwx), Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Reveal, NHS Character Study, Angst with a Happy Ending, I am so sorry lotus pier still falls, NHS and NMJ's moms are in a poly type relationship with their dad I know that's not canon don't @ me, DW JGS will kick the bucket, I just didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being a 'major character', Introspection, Morally grey main character, mild whump, NHS has trauma and this is me making him work through it, rating is for some swearing and violence, the occasional dead body and demonic cultivation, Ruthless NHS, POV NHS, Scheming NHS, NHS-centric, some mild torture it would seem) fits the first part of the request (except the time traveler is NHS not LWJ) but not the second part.

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10. Hello, I'm looking for a fic from modern college settings. Lan wangji joins college same as lan xichen. However lxc, meng yao, su she, wen chao and wei ying take advantage of lwj. Lwj is kind of innocent. I'm not sure if the fic was in English or other language but I'm sure it is ongoing. Not yet completed.. Do u know the name of the fic?? Thanks for your help in advance. No worries if you don't know.

#10 is a fic that is deleted I believe

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11. Hello! was looking for a fic which begins with lwj performing clarity to calm spirits in the jingshi, while he is doing this he comes in contact with spirit wwx (they have not met and do not know each other) who was a rogue cultivator and died young I think? anyway lwj tries to find out why spirit wwx is unable to rest in peace and is still in this world.

I remember this one particular scene where lwj defeats the tortoise of slaughter with the help of spirit wwx, and later on in the fic wwx's spirit dissipates but it has a happy ending cuz he comes back. please and thank you!! @ilikebredandstars

FOUND? asymptotic by chinxe (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Pining, for 20+ years as per the course with lwj, Mojo’s post)

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12. Ok, I’ve looked under every description I can think of, and I think it might have gotten deleted. Even so I’d still like to find it. What I remember is Wei Ying and Lan Xhan are both kids again. Wwx decides he’s done with the Cultivation Sects and gets himself adopted by a farmer in Yiling. Lwj doesn’t talk to any of the Lans and sticks around to get his sword and summon the ghost of his mother then dips. He eventually finds Wwx and they get together and stick around Wwx new family. @marmaladeshinigami

FOUND? 12 sounds like “Chosen Family by SplitGirl28” but unfortunately has been deleted by the author on AO3

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13. Hello I was looking for this time travel fix it fic, where lwj and wwx both travel back into the past in their younger bodies. Lan Qiren leaves the class for a few minutes and comes back to find wei wuxian and lwj kissing passionately. I think it was a WIP. please and thank you :D. @ilikebredandstars

FOUND? trouble with time by cloudpd (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV Outsider, Humor, POV JC, he’s so fed up with wangxian, rightfully so, wangxian are shameless, kind of crack, JC’s inner dialogue for this whole fic is just: what the fuck, POV LXC, because LXC deserves to be subjected to gross wangxian as well!!, the third chapter is LJY going “WWX rights!!”, and that’s all im going to say about that, horny wangxian time travel: the thrilling conclusion) matches for the description in everything except that it's a completed fic.

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14. Hi! I would like to find fic where LZ breaks up with WWX because of LQR. WWX’s mental health goes much more worse and he has nightmares due to his ex boyfriend XY. Finally he lays in the bath and drinks alcohol and calls LZ and he calls ambulance and then they make up

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15. Ahoy, first time needing help finding a fic, kinda nervous🫦

I'm desperately looking for a Yunmeng bros reconciliation fic that was written from JC's POV. Iirc it was post-(novel?) canon and WWX and LWJ were already married, there were some sect politics and WWX and JC slowly grew closer again because they both care for JL. It had some angst but no smut as far as I know.

Ik this isn't the most detailed description but I thought I had it bookmarked and it isn't there😭  I even tried to go through my entire history but I never cleared that and it's LONG so no luck. Is there maybe anyone who knows what fic I'm talking about? 💔

Thank you guys for your hard work and maintaining this account! Sending love! @jorolle

FOUND? 🔒 before you stumble by ribena (T, 9k, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Reconciliation, Fix-It)

FOUND? Reeds in the Wind by merakily (T, 26k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, Rabbit Therapy, Sewing Therapy, PTSD, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC Needs a Hug)

FOUND? everyone else is spring bound by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & JL, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, JC & WWX Reconciliation, JC Needs a Hug, or a nap really, POV JC, Brothers, Family Feels, Light Angst, jc has a lot of feelings and doesn't know how to deal with that: the fic, Reconciliation, Awkward Conversations, Everyone Is Doing Their Best) although Wei Ying and Lan Zhan aren't married in this one

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16. I have looked all through my bookmarks history and hope this was not deleted! Wei Ying a d Lan Zhan married when they were young. After Lan Zhan was hurt in an accident, Lan Qiren forced a divorce. Years later, Wei Ying (who is a mechanic and owns a garage) sees LZ at a wedding with Mo Xuanyu (think it’s Mianmian’s or Yanli’s wedding). LZ starts showing up at the garage with his fancy car, at the photo shoot for WY’s charity calendar (shirtless). Mo Xuanyu comes by to threaten WY. LZ and WY get back together. Thank you si much for any help! @cschistory

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17. Hi! I was pointed in your direction so it would be amazing if you could help me :D

I read a Wangxian fic on AO3 a few years ago b ur I haven’t been able to find it since.

It was essentially a retelling of events from the novel entirely from LWJ’s POV (3rd person).

Had a lot of pining and angst in it. From what I can remember, these events definitely happened:

The Wen Archery Tournament: where LWJ talks about wanting to see WWX again but then thinks WWX doesn’t remember who he is.

LWJ getting drunk because he thinks that maybe if he loses his inhibitions a bit he can express himself better

The aftermath of the inn scene which is very angsty and then meeting Fairy who taps out that WWX is at Guanyin Temple.

Guanyin Temple

There’s definitely others but it’s been a long time since I read it and this is the most I can remember.

It had an angst with a happy ending vibe if memory serves me correctly. It would be amazing if you can help me track this down I wish I could reread it.

During the interval period of Wei Ying’s death, LWJ is at Carp Tower (now run by JGY) and gets hit on by a male acrobatic performer. He’s almost into it before noting he might have been drugged by something and rejecting the guy. He then worries that someone might have discovered a collection of his stuff that would reveal he’s gay.

Later on in the story after WWX’s resurrection and the reveal that JGY stole from the Lan Secret Library, he mentions the incident to Zewu-jun and asks if he noted anything weird about what he drank at the Carp Tower implying JGY might have drugged Zewu-Jun at the same event.

Zewu-jun says something along the lines of “he wouldn’t do that”.

Thank you! @danmeidiaries

FOUND? 🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide) I don't remember the events of the fic exactly well enough to confirm if all the events listed in the ask are present, but it might be this one

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18. Hi! For the longest time now, I’ve been looking for a fic where Lan Wangji comes to Loted Pear, I think it’s set afrer the cloud recesses study arc, the were both still quite young. They were sparring, Wei Ying was trying to show Lan Zhan all pf the Lotus Pear and how to have fun there. (I remember one part where Wei Ying and Lan Zahn went swimming in the lake with other boys, and Lan Zhan then felf quite conflicted because of his sexuality.) But that’s all I remeber.:/ I would be also grateful for *any* recommendations about fics where Lan Zhan visited Wei Ying in the Lotus Pier:) I think it’s such a cute concept @fruity-mango

FOUND? Wei Laoshi, Poonslayer by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 6k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV LWJ, straight boy WWX, Loss of Virginity, Getting Together, [Podfic] Wei Laoshi, Poonslayer by PandaReads (DrPanda99))

FOUND? Forgetting Envies and Fleeing Questions by marikazz (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Repressed, LWJ, Song: Wangxian, Fluff, Swordfighting, the homoerotic kind, Love Confessions, Confessions, Flirting, Getting Together, Pining, Humor, POV LWJ)

FOUND? sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn’s A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU)

🔒 The Water's Right, It's Sinking In by GravityWinsAgain (T, 9k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, but the angst is all in LWJ's head, seriously nothing outside of his own internalized panic is happening, LWJ visits lotus pier, And has a breakdown about it, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, da-shixiong WWX, Repressed LWJ, But they figure it out in the end, Happy Ending, LWJ has emotions and is not pleased, Location: Lotus Pier) not the fic they were looking for but more lwj visits lotus pier things

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19. Hi! I have a fic finder request, please. It is a modern au where WWX is a vlogger who makes idyllic vlogs about life in the Chinese countryside. LWJ is a famous classical musician who takes a vacation in WWX's village and they grow close. I think fans recognize LWJ in WWX's vlog. At one point a little kid from the village goes missing and they all search to find her. I remember reading this 2-3 years ago, I think it was quite popular back then. Thank you for any leads to what this might be!

FOUND!🔒🧡 【那夏天的我們】 a stroke of fate by puddingcatbeans (G, 59k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Slice of Life, Falling In Love, Summer, Barakamon AU, renowned musician lwj escapes to tiny village and falls in love with local farmer boy wwx, good times only, YouTuber WWX, Food)

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20. Hi!! I hope you are doing well! I can't seem to find this fic where lan wangji is older amd a teacher at cloud recess when wei wuxian and the Jiang sect come to study. Over the course of time, he kind of realizes the genius that wei wuxian really is and the miss treatment that he is getting at the Jiang sect. It somewhat follows the original Mo dao zu shi script but there is a lot of Jiang cheng Bashing that happens through out the fic. Also there is a part where WY has to drink demon blood to maintain control over his demonic cultivation and he dosent do that and faints. Sorry if it's a little vague but these were the only specifics I could remember. If I remember correctly it was a discontinued fic last I read it.

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[emmiesoverthemoon]

AISLE BE DAMNED

one: this could've been an email

wc: 3.1k ss count: 6 < previous | navigation | next >

tuesday, 10:10am

you arrive five minutes before your agreed time and glowing, the sun warming the backs of your legs as you slide into the booth opposite your cousin. she’s already halfway through an iced oat latte and a cinnamon pastry the size of her head.

“oh my goodness, hey gorgeous,” she greets, mouth full, rising to hug you. “that skirt is everything!”

you smile, returning her embrace. “i do it all for you. brunch is sacred.”

the café is airy and tiled in dusty hues, the smell of espresso tangled with vanilla and morning heat. it’s the kind of place that makes you believe in new beginnings, in soft restarts, in easy joy.

after classical so-how’s-life small talk, your cousin leans across the table, eyes bright. “so, i have a proposition for you.”

you sip your chai. “hit me.”

“you plan my wedding.”

you blink. “like… help you plan it?”

“like… plan it. fully.” she shrugs, hopeful. she’s a little anxious, you can tell by the waver in her voice. “start to finish. i trust you. you’re good at this stuff, and you have taste, and good planning skills, and the magic brain. and i’m overwhelmed and incapable of choosing between chairs without crying.”

your first instinct is to laugh. the second is to say yes, of course.

because you love her. because weddings are your favourite genre of event, because planning and decorating are your thing. because she looks like she might dissolve if you don’t.

“i’ll do it,” you agree, instantly, reaching for your phone. “we’ll build you a pinterest board first. there’ll be light installations and garden paths and—”

“okay, yes, love all of that,” she cuts in, voice suddenly small. “but… there’s a catch.”

you pause, suspiciously raising an eyebrow. “what kind of catch?”

she winces and takes a slow sips her drink. her eyes dart to anywhere but your form, refusing to make eye contact.

“i already kind of… have someone helping me.”

your smile begins to wilt. “oh?”

“he’s just a friend of ours, well. more so the fiance’s friend than mine,” she rushes, waving her hands haphazardly. “he offered when we were freaking out last month about things, and i didn’t know if you’d be available, and he’s… helpful. intense. but helpful.”

you narrow your eyes, unsure of the whole ordeal. you just wish you could have done it alone is all! “what’s his name?”

a beat passes, her hesitance unsettles you.

“minho,” she names. “lee minho.”

your stomach drops a little. the name tastes like paper cuts and perfectly aligned spreadsheets.

or is it just the bitter aftertaste of unexpected collaboration?

“he’s really not that bad,” she attempts to comfort quickly, “he’s just… very structured. very type-a kind of guy.”

“you’re saying i have to co-plan this wedding?”

“i’m saying it’ll be amazing. you’re the heart. he’s the brains. together you’ll be unstoppable.”

you stare at her. she stares back with the slightly manic optimism of someone who is very much not going to be part of the actual disaster.

“he can be sweet,” she adds, like a peace offering. “i swear. deep, deep down. you’re amazing, i’m sure you’ll crack through his shell quickly.”

you exhale slowly, reaching for your croissant. “fine. i’m all yours.”

she lights up, and immediately retrieves her phone from her purse to send you his number.

and just like that, the sun over brunch feels a little too bright.

tuesday, 1:53pm

you get home still smelling faintly of syrup and vanilla, the warm rush of brunch already fading into something more sour.

you throw your phone on the couch. it bounces once, screen-down, like even it is ashamed of what comes next.

you take a moment to kick off your shoes and toss your keys to the designated tray. you fill the silence of your home with a slow, theatrical sigh. then: you sit, unlock your phone, and start drafting a message.

polite. breezy. kind of professional, but not stiff. maybe a hint of charm, just enough to make this less painful. you reread it three times. edit an emoji. delete it. press send.

and then you wait.

two minutes later, your phone buzzes. his replies are short. clipped. vaguely insulting. you stare at your screen in disbelief.

who talks to someone new like that? and totally unprovoked?

lee minho, it seems, is all bones and no sugar.

you toss the phone down again and sink deeper into the couch, legs flopped dramatically over the armrest, sighing like a woman in a period film who’s just been informed her betrothed is “adequate.”

"this is going to be amazing," you mutter aloud, glaring at the ceiling.

then, lower, like it’s a confession: "i hate him already."

once you send your availability as requested, your phone buzzes again. it’s probably just a rude command, and you are yet to have the energy to read it.

you don’t respond immediately.

you’re too busy imagining all the ways this could go wrong. and, quietly, the strange, unwelcome twinge of curiosity blooming beneath your irritation.

thursday, 10:35am

you give yourself until the morning of the café meeting to spiral.

by the time sunlight spilt through your blinds, you had looked over your mood board six times, printed out a potential invitation design mock-up that absolutely no one asked for, and chosen your outfit with the intensity of a woman dressing for war.

soft but commanding. romantic but sharp. approachable but not easily walked over. there is blush on your cheeks and steel in your spine.

you talk to your reflection while curling your lashes.

“he’s just a guy. a type-a, emotionally constipated, spreadsheet guy. you’ve met worse. you’ve dated worse. you’re not going to let some polished little control freak ruin this for you.”

you nod and hold eye contact with yourself like it’s a trust exercise.

“you are composed. creative. you are unbothered. you are—”

you think of how he spoke to you in his messages. a hand runs itself over your forehead; the next long period of time spent with someone like this? really?

“you are… not... gonna kill him,” you mutter.

you decide you won't allow some man with a rude tone best you. this is your element! and you're doing your cousin a huge favour here.

because you’re nothing if not committed to a challenge.

and this?

this feels like the start of something awful. or brilliant. or both.

thursday, 11:15am

the café you both have arranged to meet in is pretty in a way that tries very hard not to be. pressed flower menus, exposed brick, a feature wall of trailing ivy that begs to be photographed. you pick a two-seater table in the corner—neutral territory—and set your materials out like armour ready to defend whatever attack is to come.

you spot someone enter the cafe, who your intuition told you was the person you're here to meet. he looks all clean lines, silver watch, zero visible humanity. it had to be him. you watch him scan the café like he’s assessing the structural integrity. he’s in a black button-up like he’s coming from a funeral or a business seminar (you're unable to tell). he approaches the service counter and orders something unintelligible from your distance.

once the order is ready, you see his sharp eyes rake over each patron. when he spots you, he approaches and gives a short nod, not a greeting. he sits without adjusting his expression.

you blink. nice to meet you too.

he lifts the cup, sips once, then sets it down. “you remembered to come. good start.”

you press your lips together, fighting the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your skull. does he think of you an idiot?

“like i would forget.”

you open up your planner. minho lays out his laptop. you bring up centrepiece colour palettes; he brings up guest list conflicts and structure. your visions have artful chaos and romance. his have rigid order and rules.

the next twenty minutes are mental gymnastics in practicing patience. you bring up florals— he talks about logistics. you float the idea of a champagne cart— he shuts it down before you finish the sentence. you suggest golden hour lighting— he reminds you sunset is unpredictable in late spring.

he doesn’t interrupt, not exactly— but his silences are so loud they feel like corrections.

and worst of all?

he’s good at what he's doing.

frustratingly, insufferably, disgustingly competent. you watch him reroute an entire potential reception layout because a hypothetical potential florist had an incompatible delivery method in no more than two minutes, and it was elegant. efficient. infuriating.

“you know,” you say eventually, reaching for your drink, “i think we have very different definitions of what a wedding should feel like.”

he doesn’t even look up. “it should feel seamless.”

you snort. “it should feel unforgettable.”

“seamless is unforgettable.”

“you sound like a walking brochure.”

he glances at you then, just briefly. “you sound like a pinterest board with a wifi connection.”

you stare at him, open-mouthed.

“you’re lucky i'm doing this for my cousin,” you mutter.

“and you’re lucky i like being prepared,” he replies, tapping his pen once against his page. “this would be chaos without me.”

“you think i bring chaos?”

he smiles. not sweetly. “i think you bring… flair.”

“you said that like it’s a disease.”

“i didn’t not mean it like that.”

after an hour that feels like five, you gather your things, already mentally rewriting everything he wrote down on his snobby little laptop.

“venue walkthrough’s next week,” he informs, “i’ll send over my availability.”

“don’t strain yourself.”

he raises an eyebrow. “i won’t.”

you offer him a perfect smile, all sugar and spite. he gives you nothing in return. just walks off, black coffee still in hand, like you were a task on a to-do list he couldn’t wait to tick off.

you watch him disappear around the corner, teeth clenched.

“this,” you say aloud to no one, pulling your phone out from your pocket, “is going to be so fun.”

once minho got in the car, he tossed his laptop onto the passenger seat, shut the door with a soft click, and sat there for a moment. hands still, eyes on the dashboard. the sunlight hit hard across the steering wheel. his jaw felt tight.

he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and opened messages. no notifications. he scrolled anyway. checked the time. turned on the engine.

a soft mechanical hum filled the space. he let it settle. then, finally, thumb hovering, he opened his chat.

he ran a hand through his hair.

he was here to help plan a wedding. not… deal with whatever that was.

he locked his phone and pulled out of the carpark.

he didn’t think about it again.

not really.

the next thursday, 8:55am

the forest opens slowly, like a held breath. sunlight drips through tall trees in long gold ribbons, dappling the moss-covered stone steps that lead toward the main clearing. the world smells like rain-soaked bark and white roses in bloom, the silence broken only by the crunch of gravel beneath your shoes and the occasional birdcall echoing somewhere deep above.

it is—if you’re being honest with yourself—stupidly beautiful.

the kind of place where people whisper even when they do not have to. the kind of place that looks like it came with its own filter. the kind of place that makes you believe in soft promises and forever.

you exhale through your nose and murmur, “okay. not bad.”

“just ‘not bad?’”

you don’t have to turn around. you’d recognise that voice anywhere now— clipped, smooth, with the exact tone of a man who does not believe in whimsy.

minho appears beside you, dressed like someone who doesn’t trust nature to behave itself. black again. always black. he holds a rolled-up blueprint under one arm and a coffee in his other hand, which feels offensive somehow.

you don’t dignify his sass with a response.

instead, you both drift toward the heart of the venue— the open-air clearing where the ceremony will take place. it’s framed by a white pergola, wrapped in fresh wisteria, with vintage chairs laid out in perfect rows that slope gently toward the altar.

“she's going to cry when she sees this,” you say, softer now.

“she’ll cry regardless,” minho says. “but yes. it’s nice.”

you glance at him.

he doesn’t look moved, exactly— but his eyes are locked on the treetops, the subtle shift of branches moving above the altar. for a second, he’s very still.

you look away before you can start projecting a personality onto him.

the venue coordinator joins you, clipboard in hand and smile too big for this quiet forest. she runs through the ceremony outline and power supply details, marking off lighting placements and “wet weather backup” logistics while you both follow, mostly silent.

except for minho. minho is never silent when he has an opinion.

“these cables will have to be repositioned,” he mutters, crouching to inspect the outer edge of the aisle. “if the musicians set up here, they’ll be blocking the view from the fourth row. not to mention the audio balance—”

“oh my god,” you sigh, crouching beside him. “can you give it five minutes before you start rearranging the trees?”

he doesn’t look at you. just gestures to the uneven slope of the ground. “do you want the bride to trip walking down the aisle? is that what your ideal “vibe” is?”

you lean in, dangerously close. “the vibe is a nice wedding. not a safety seminar.”

he glances sideways at you.

you glance back.

you’re close enough to feel his shoulder shift when he breathes. the forest is very quiet.

you both look away.

the coordinator leaves you to “walk the space” and finalise creative decisions. which, of course, means arguing.

“i still think the florals should be elevated,” you think aloud, gesturing toward the seating rows. “just on low plinths. it frames the aisle better in photos.”

“or it blocks the view for half the guests.”

“not if it’s arranged correctly.”

“which you think you’ll do personally?”

“i would if you’d let me within three feet of your spreadsheet.”

he exhales sharply— an almost laugh, except not nice.

“you’re not the first aesthetic genius i’ve worked with,” he quips, turning toward the altar.

“and you’re not the first control freak i’ve had to try to tolerate,” you shoot back.

the silence that follows is… heavier than it should be.

you step up beside him under the pergola, where sunlight pours like honey between the beams, spilling across your feet. minho glances at the lattice above.

“the light’s good here,” he murmurs, half to himself. “the bride’s dress will glow.”

you blink— it’s the first time you’ve heard him say anything that sounds like a feeling.

“see?” you say, a little too smug. “you can do romance.”

he turns to you, expression unreadable. “i never said i couldn’t. just that i prefer function over fantasy.”

“they’re not mutually exclusive,” you say, chin lifted, “not everything has to be entirely cold and practical.”

“and not everything has to be entirely whimsical and unrealistic.”

you face him fully. he’s standing closer than necessary. the air shifts, just slightly.

“i’m trying to make something beautiful,” you say.

he looks at you for a second too long.

“…so am i,” he replies quietly.

you both look away at the same time.

the final stop is the reception hall.

arched windows, soft chandeliers, walls the colour of antique lace. the breeze curls through the open doorways, catching stray petals off the tables left half-decorated for today’s walkthrough. the room smells like lemon cake and eucalyptus.

you walk in first. he follows.

“twenty tables,” he says, eyes scanning. “we’ll need to rotate two of them if we want to avoid congestion.”

“i already accounted for that,” you reply, pulling a mock layout from your folder.

he blinks at it. tilts his head.

“…this is good.”

you turn slowly, dramatically. “did you just compliment me?”

“don’t let it go to your head.”

“you just admitted i was right.”

“i said it was good. not perfect.”

“that's a compliment, coming from you.”

he exhales again. quieter this time.

you can’t help it— you smile. just a little.

you part ways in the gravel parking area with nothing more than a glance. the wind ruffles your papers. minho’s already opening his car door.

“i’ll send an updated schedule tonight,” he calls.

“make sure it includes time for feelings,” you call back.

he doesn’t reply. but you think—maybe—you hear the ghost of a laugh before the door shuts behind him.

you stare at the trees overhead. the branches sway like they know something you don’t.

you have no idea how this is going to work.

but, god help you, you are kind of looking forward to the next disaster.

kind of.

thursday, 7:32pm

later that night, your apartment is a mess of ribbon samples and open notebooks, your laptop glowing faintly beneath a half-eaten box of macarons. you sit cross-legged on the couch, phone in one hand, scribbling notes with the other, still high on adrenaline and candle-scented air.

you should be exhausted.

instead, your brain is running like it’s on stage, spotlight bright, full of centrepieces and dance floor placements and the exact shade of ivory the linens need to be.

you keep thinking about that moment beneath the pergola—how the sun lit the edges of his jaw. how he spoke softly like he meant it.

it’s infuriating.

you shake your head. type something aggressive in your planning document in attempt to alleviate some tension.

note to self: stop thinking about lee minho.

as if the man of the hour is listening to your thoughts, your phone buzzes.

you can almost hear the smugness through the screen.

across the city, minho sits in his dark kitchen, screen tilted back, a faint hum of lo-fi playing into the quiet. his notes are neatly filed, tasks ticked off. he stares at the seating chart for a second longer than necessary.

then opens your shared drive to scroll through the moodboard. he takes a moment to pause on a photo of candles in various antique candelabras, immersed in the decor, the light flickering like hushed giggles.

he tilts his head, feeling the corners of his lips curl slightly.

"hm."

and that’s all.

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here’s chapter one !!! ty for reading :)

stay tuned for chapter two and beyond <3

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[deliciousangelfestival]

The Director's Obsession - Phase 6

Character: Director Orson Krennic x F!ISB Agent

Summary: Director Orson Krennic keeps one ISB agent under his thumb, pulling her from lunches, stealing her sleep, and destroying three dates. The project demands everything. Or maybe his obsession demands more.

Word Count: 4,442

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi🙏🏻

Phase 1 , Phase 2 , Phase 3 , Phase 4 , Phase 5 , Phase 6 , -

A/N: The intimate moment is here!

A/N: Are you ready to see husband!Krennic? 👀

Phase 6 : Strategic Bond

You had not planned on kissing him.

It simply happened, like breath after drowning, like lightning without warning. When the projection dimmed and the ashes of Cinderis vanished into streams of scattered data, the silence between you cracked open. And you stepped into it.

Your lips found his with all the force of everything left unsaid. Heat, hunger, anger, gratitude. It burned in that kiss like the aftermath of war. He met you there, one hand firm on your back, the other brushing your hip, anchoring you. For a moment, there was only him. The taste of him. The pressure of his mouth moving with yours. His breath caught just as yours did.

Then he stopped.

His hands did not leave your body, but his lips pulled away, leaving a thread of heat that barely cooled in the space between you. His forehead pressed against yours, breath uneven. He was not pushing you away. He was choosing restraint.

"Not now," he said softly. "Not here. Not on the Death Star. Not on Scarif."

You could hardly breathe. His nearness still flooded your senses. But something about the way he said it. Measured, gentle, unflinchingly clear, it made you understand. There were lines he refused to cross, not because he could not, but because for once, he wanted it to mean something.

"When it happens," he continued, voice barely louder than breath, "it will be somewhere that does not carry the memory of destruction. Somewhere that belongs only to us."

You stayed still, chest heaving from more than just desire. Neither of you moved. You both stood in the silence that followed, hearts thudding in your ribs, waiting for the storm inside to settle.

Then, at last, his voice broke through.

"I am sorry."

You blinked, surprised by the words. "For what?"

His eyes fluttered shut, as if holding in something heavier than anger. "I should never have left you alone."

The admission was quiet but heavy, and it landed somewhere deep in your chest. You reached for him without thinking, letting your fingers brush the side of his neck, grounding both of you.

"No one could have predicted what happened," you said gently. "You didn’t fail me."

You swallowed hard. "You saved me."

The words hung in the air between you, not a compliment, not even a thank-you. They were a truth. And he did not refute them.

"And," you added, more breath than sound, "you blew up Cinderis. You killed Joric. For me."

A dry chuckle escaped him, just short of bitter. "Did I?"

He tilted his head slightly, a faint shadow of amusement touching his mouth. "Well. I suppose I did. What can I say? When I retaliate, I do not hold back."

You gave him a look. But you knew he was not trying to be clever. Not this time.

His face shifted again, something darker settling beneath his expression. Something heavier.

"You survived being taken. You were hunted, beaten, dragged through hell. Rebel or not, you were the victim. And I do not allow anyone to harm what is mine."

The heat that rose in your chest was not just emotion. It was something deeper. Something more dangerous.

Then his next words dropped like cold steel.

"We have to meet the Emperor."

You went still. "Is it because of me...?"

He adjusted his cuffs with mechanical precision, the gesture as much armor as habit. "Because I destroyed a planet. And while I am prepared to take responsibility for it, the motivation behind it was personal. And personal motivation, in front of the Emperor, requires explanation."

Your breath caught. "I am not ready."

He took one step closer. Close enough to fill your vision, close enough that you could feel the subtle warmth radiating from his skin.

"You are," he said simply. "You survived what should have broken you. You spoke and made the Empire listen. You made me listen."

You looked up at him, feeling the knot of fear in your stomach loosen just slightly.

"And you will not face him alone," he added. "Not now. Not ever."

You nodded slowly. The fear had not vanished. But it no longer defined you.

Then his eyes drifted to the bruise along your jaw.

"Do you want to hide your scars?"

You lifted your hand and touched the fading cut near your mouth. You remembered how you got it. Remembered the dirt, the pain, the taste of blood. You lowered your hand and straightened your spine.

"No. I want him to see them. I want him to see what came out of Cinderis. What rot looks like when it breathes. I survived it. And I am still standing. That is the story he needs to hear."

Krennic stared at you for a moment, his mouth tilting slightly into something that was not quite a smile, but not far from it either.

"Good move," he said, voice low. "Let them see what survival looks like."

And when he said it, he looked at you like you were the most dangerous thing in the galaxy.

******

The throne room was colder than anything you’d ever known.

Not the kind of cold that came from temperature, but something far deeper. The kind that made your bones feel small, your voice too loud even when silent. You stood beside Director Krennic beneath the vaulted ceiling, with its jagged black columns like teeth closing in on the weak.

And seated in the center of it all, surrounded by darkness, was the Emperor.

Governor Tarkin stood slightly to the side, arms folded, gaze like a blade honed by spite. No one spoke until the Emperor’s voice, dry and rasping, cracked the air.

"You destroyed a planet," he said slowly, looking past you to Krennic. "Without sanction. Without directive."

Krennic’s shoulders were square. His voice was firm, but not defiant. “It was a rapid decision, my lord. Circumstances required swift resolution. The planet housed a rebel faction. One that kidnapped an Imperial agent vital to the Death Star’s development. And not just her. There were other prisoners from Imperial Citizen and stolen weapons from us.”

Palpatine’s yellowed eyes narrowed. "You took initiative. Some might call that recklessness."

Tarkin stepped forward slightly. “If I may, my lord… perhaps now is the time for a change of stewardship. Director Krennic’s contributions are noted. However, a military project of this magnitude—”

Krennic cut in, voice clipped. “Without me, there would be no Death Star, Governor. You’d still be reviewing memos about structural flaws while I was laying the foundation.”

“You’ll find I’ve never needed fanfare to leave a mark,” Tarkin replied dryly.

“Gentlemen,” Palpatine snapped. The silence that followed was immediate.

Then, the Emperor turned to you. His gaze settled on your face, unreadable. “You,” he said at last. “Speak.”

You stepped forward. Your bruises still ached. Your lip had only just stopped bleeding. But your voice did not tremble.

“My lord,” you began. “I am honored to stand in your presence. I was taken from within ISB headquarters. No warning. No offer of negotiation. The rebels did not strike at military targets. They struck civilians. I was just one of many.”

Palpatine’s gaze sharpened slightly.

“And the planet they dragged me to was Cinderis. Was not a center of power. It was rot in disguise. I was born there. I know it better than any of your officers. That place was never a resource. It was starvation, disease, desperation.” You paused, letting your voice harden. “When I was a child, I envied insects. Because they could chew leaves to stay alive.”

A silence rolled across the chamber like thunder. Especially for Krennic, who, for the first time, truly understood the weight of your struggles growing up.

You went on. “Joric Stone wasn’t a rebel. He was a butcher. A supporter of Gerrera’s ideology with none of Gerrera’s discipline. He starved the people he claimed to free. He tortured children to keep them afraid. And he would’ve built a new rebellion with their bones. The Empire didn’t lose an asset when Cinderis burned. It removed a virus.”

“Strong words,” Tarkin muttered.

You ignored him. “Director Krennic acted. Not for himself. For the Empire. For me. And for the children who were still trapped there with no future.”

You inhaled slowly, then delivered the final blow.

“The Empire now has the chance to turn those children into something more. Let them see who saved them. Let them grow up knowing stability came not from rebels, but from order. That is how loyalty is built. Not with promises. But with proof.”

The Emperor leaned back in his throne, fingers steepled. “You believe we can turn rebels into loyal citizens.”

You held his gaze. “You did it with me.”

Palpatine looked at Krennic. His voice lowered.

“This asset of yours. She’s clever.”

“She’s effective,” Krennic said quietly.

The Emperor looked back at you.  "I will have you in my service, girl. You will report directly to me. I expect no objections."

You swallowed, throat tight. "Of course, my lord."

"Good. You may go." The Emperor stood, robes sweeping across the floor like a shadow that consumed everything in its path. He gave a final glance to Tarkin. “You may continue to advise on the Death Star. But its future belongs to those who earned it.”

Tarkin’s face soured, but he said nothing. He glanced at Krennic, gaze cutting as ever. "Enjoy your brief hour of glory, Director. The Death Star is a tool. But politics is eternal."

He swept past, silent as a blade.

And then it was just you and Krennic.

You didn’t breathe until he turned toward you and placed both gloved hands gently on your shoulders. You almost collapsed under the sudden release of pressure.

“Did that just happen?” you whispered.

Krennic nodded once, his voice quieter than you expected. “Yes. It did.”

********

The speeder slid to a halt outside the ISB headquarters. The lights above the entrance hummed softly, cold and impersonal, but you barely noticed them. Krennic stepped out first, his gloved hand briefly brushing yours as he helped you down. His touch lingered just a second too long, as if reluctant to let go.

Waiting by the entrance were three familiar figures. Mia and her daughters. You exhaled, your shoulders sagging with relief as you hurried toward them.

The older girl sprinted forward first, arms wide, and the younger followed, her little legs barely keeping up. You dropped to your knees and wrapped them in your arms, the scent of their hair and the warmth of their little bodies grounding you.

“You’re safe,” you whispered, brushing their cheeks, holding back tears. “Thank the stars, you’re safe.”

You rose and turned to Mia, pulling her into a tight hug. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t strong. But it was real.

Once you stepped back, your voice cracked as you asked, “No one followed you? No one tried to hurt you?”

Mia exchanged a look between you and Krennic, then back to you, lips pursed. “We did feel someone watching us,” she said, lowering her voice. “But before I could panic, these soldiers just… appeared. Next thing I know, we’ve got a whole squad guarding the apartment.”

She tilted her head, her expression sharpening as she looked you over. “Dear stars,” she breathed, her eyes trailing the bruises on your face. “How long were you there?”

“Not long,” Krennic answered smoothly.

Mia turned, squinting at him. Her arms folded across her chest as she closed the distance between them with calculated annoyance.

“You know,” she said slowly, “I really hate you for stealing my friend.”

Krennic’s mouth quirked at the edge. “Borrowed,” he replied dryly.

“And I hate that you ruined her date,” Mia went on, not missing a beat.

“She looked miserable,” he said. “I improved her night.”

Mia raised an eyebrow. “I was this close to using my father-in-law and my husband’s influence as senators to get you fired.”

“I welcome the challenge,” Krennic said with a smirk. “Though I doubt they would enjoy crossing me.”

She stared at him for a beat, then sighed, sticking out her hand. “But… you blew up a planet and killed the bastard who murdered our parents. So… you’re alright in my book.”

He took her hand with the same practiced ease he used at political summits. “We’ll get along just fine.”

It was then one of Mia’s daughters, the younger one, stepped forward. Her wide eyes scanned his crisp white uniform with wonder. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched the edge of his cape.

“Is this made of snow?” she asked, voice small.

Krennic blinked, clearly uncertain what to do. His lips parted like he might ask for help, then closed again.

“…No,” he said awkwardly. “It is… wool.”

You stifled a laugh behind your hand and stepped in. “Alright, girls. Come on, let’s make tea.”

The girls let out happy squeals and ran to you, throwing their arms around your waist. You bent to kiss the top of their heads, your heart full and aching all at once.

Behind you, Krennic watched.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. But the image carved itself into his memory. The way your eyes softened, how easily the children folded into your arms, how natural it looked. How right.

For a brief second, he saw it. A room. A future. You. Him. And children that looked at him not with awe or fear, but with laughter. And then, as fast as it came, he crushed it. Buried it deep.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, voice low.

You turned. “You’re not staying?”

It shocked even you that you asked. A few months ago, the very idea of Orson Krennic in your home was laughable. But now, after everything…

He shook his head. “You need rest.”

You could tell from the pause that he wanted to stay. That he hated the thought of walking away. But he had no real home. No permanent quarters. His life was a station made of steel and classified projects. Perhaps it was time he started looking for something… else.

Mia called out, “Alright, kids, say goodbye to Uncle.”

“Bye, Uncle White Cape!” the girls chimed, waving enthusiastically.

Krennic blinked, visibly caught off guard. His arm twitched like he might return the wave. Instead, he nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and left.

And you watched him go, the corner of your mouth curling into something dangerously close to fondness.

******

A few days later, cleared by a physician sent directly by Director Krennic himself, you stepped back into the ISB headquarters.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

You moved through the pristine corridors with measured steps, your boots clicking softly against the polished floor. As you walked, you felt it immediately. The shift. The weight. Eyes darted toward you, but few dared to meet your gaze directly. Agents you had passed every day now paused mid-step to give you room. Others offered stiff nods of recognition or murmured subdued greetings under their breath.

It was as though your presence had changed. No longer just another asset in the ranks—you were something more now. Something sharper. Untouchable.

You rounded the final corner toward the command offices when a familiar voice halted your thoughts.

"Agent."

You turned.

Major Partagaz stood with his usual clipped composure, but there was something new in his eyes. Approval. Relief, maybe. A subtle softening of the lines that usually never cracked.

"Major," you said formally, standing straighter.

He walked toward you, hands behind his back. "We were informed you were recovering. The medical report is… thorough." He eyed you briefly, the way a superior did when confirming that his soldier was still intact. Then he leaned closer, just slightly. "It seems Director Krennic was rather insistent about your care. Called in every favor available."

You blinked at the weight of that comment. He did not elaborate. He did not need to.

"Regardless," Partagaz continued, straightening, "you are back. And just in time. Congratulations, Agent. You are promoted."

You frowned slightly. "Promoted, sir?"

"Effective immediately, you are to serve as Chief Imperial Communications Strategist. Your clearance has been updated. You will work directly under the Emperor’s communications wing, across all major sectors."

Your breath caught.

"You will be summoned at any hour. You are to be prepared at all times. No delays, no hesitation. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Major."

There was a pause. Then, quietly, you asked, "And my work with Director Krennic?"

Partagaz's lips twitched, but the smirk never fully surfaced. "His project is complete. Unless he begins a new one, which… knowing him, I would wager he will. When that happens, I expect he will contact you. Personally."

You flushed, eyes lowering for a beat. "Understood, sir."

He nodded once. "Dismissed, Strategist."

As you stepped away, you allowed yourself a quiet breath. Strategist. A far cry from the desk you once sat behind. You moved through the corridor, trying to ignore the tight coil in your stomach.

You had just turned a corner when you spotted her. Dedra Meero, leaning against a side pillar, her face pale, drawn, but intact. Her eyes caught yours, and a faint smirk formed at the edge of her lips.

"So, let me get this straight," she said. "While I was being interrogated and treated like a traitor, you went to a gala and wore a dress sharp enough to gut a man?"

You slowed, guilt pressing into your ribs. "Dedra, I did not know they had pulled you in. I would have—"

She waved you off, her expression tired but not bitter. "Not your fault. I poked around where I was not cleared to poke. I should have known better."

You stepped closer. "Are you alright?"

"Mostly." She glanced down at the badge pinned to your chest. Her gaze lingered. "Well, look at you."

You followed her eyes. Your new rank.

"Congratulations. Strategist now, are we?"

"Thank you. Though it feels… strange."

"It should. You earned it. They do not give out titles like that for nothing."

You hesitated, then asked, "Anything else happen while I was gone?"

Dedra folded her arms and leaned a little harder against the wall. "Well, I was in a cell. So I missed a lot. But the biggest buzz was that Jung got demoted."

You blinked. "What?"

She nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. "Something about misconduct. Though no one is saying it outright. It is all whispers. I would be careful around him if I were you."

You nodded slowly, absorbing the information, though your thoughts were already elsewhere. Somewhere far away. Somewhere with a white cape. A promise. A storm. And Jung is inside the storm. 

*****

A few days ago.

The silence in the chamber was not peace. It was pressure. It wrapped around Lonni Jung’s throat like a tightening collar. The room was sterile, humming faintly with surveillance tech, but there were no blinking lights, no distractions. Just the sound of his own heartbeat, and the slow hiss of the door sliding open behind him.

Director Orson Krennic entered without hurry, the air around him altering like gravity had shifted. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His presence alone flattened the atmosphere.

There was no rage on his face. No dramatic threats or barking fury. Just stillness. Lethal, calculating, and somehow more terrifying than shouting. His cape moved in smooth folds behind him as he walked, circling Jung like a raptor drawing a perfect line around its prey.

He finally spoke, voice as soft as ice cracking on glass.

"What’s your name?"

Jung stiffened. "Y—Jung, sir. Agent Jung."

Krennic stopped walking. Turned.

"I didn’t ask for your rank. I asked for your name."

Jung’s mouth went dry. He swallowed, then answered quietly. "Lonni Jung."

A flicker passed through Krennic’s expression. Something close to a smile, but colder. A baring of teeth.

"Lonni Jung," he said, tasting the syllables with slow amusement. "The loyal ISB agent. The mole. The reason she was taken."

Jung didn’t breathe. He couldn’t.

Krennic stepped into his space, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret meant to carve flesh. "You’re the one who smiled at her every morning. Nodded in meetings. Took notes. Laughed at the right moments. All while feeding her name to wolves."

He took one step closer. Jung didn’t dare move.

"Do you know what they would have done to her," Krennic murmured, "if I hadn’t arrived when I did? Do you know what she looked like when I found her?"

The silence became unbearable. Krennic’s gloved fist flexed, slow and deliberate. The sound of leather stretching filled the air.

"People like you," he said, with absolute precision, "are why I do not sleep."

He pulled back slightly, letting the words settle.

"But here’s the irony," Krennic continued. His tone shifted, cooler now, almost detached. "Your betrayal… was useful."

Jung blinked. Confused. Waiting.

"Your information helped us find her before they could move her off-world. Before she vanished forever."

Another pause. Krennic’s gaze sharpened.

"Which is why," he said slowly, "I am going to let you live."

Jung flinched, his breath catching. "You’re… sparing me?"

Krennic tilted his head, eyes narrowing just enough to make Jung wish he hadn’t spoken.

"Oh, do not thank me," Krennic said, stepping forward again, his voice a quiet snarl, his words brushing close like the edge of a blade at the throat. "You will stay here. You will work. Quietly. Obediently. And every breath you take from now on, you will take with the knowledge that I allow it."

He turned then, as if Jung were beneath any further effort.

But at the threshold, he stopped. Without turning.

"One more thing, Jung."

Jung’s spine snapped straight. "Yes, sir."

Krennic’s voice dropped to something colder than a blaster’s barrel.

"One more betrayal, and you won’t live to explain it."

Then the door hissed open. And Krennic was gone.

Jung remained, frozen, staring at the spot where the Director had stood. He was still breathing, but it didn’t feel like mercy. It felt like a sentence. And he knew, with sickening clarity, he would never sleep peacefully again.

*******

From the viewing deck, the Death Star loomed like a myth made real. Its size was impossible to measure with the eye. Entire continents of steel and shadow, a godlike silhouette drifting in the black. Even now, with it finally operational, it still felt too massive to belong to anyone. But it belonged to Orson Krennic.

Partagaz stood quietly beside him, arms folded behind his back as they both observed the slow orbit of their creation. His voice, when it came, was quieter than usual.

"So this is the Death Star," he murmured. "Almost twenty years. It’s a miracle we could finish it."

Krennic said nothing.

Partagaz glanced sideways, noticing the unusually pensive look on his friend’s face. It was subtle, but not invisible, not to someone who had spent years watching Orson Krennic charm, threaten, and manipulate his way through the most dangerous political corridors in the galaxy.

"Krennic?" he asked, a touch of suspicion in his voice.

Krennic didn’t take his eyes off the viewport. His voice was low, almost too casual. "Do you think I could be a family man?"

Partagaz blinked.

He looked at Krennic as if the man had just announced he was giving up military command to become a chef on Naboo. That was not the question he expected. Not from him.

Orson Krennic. The white-caped perfectionist who had once threatened a senator over a scheduling delay. Who scoffed at weekend leave. Who, in all the years Partagaz had known him, had never once spoken about building a life that wasn’t built in blueprints and weapons contracts.

He remembered when they were all young, back when they were just graduates of the ISB academy. Most of the alumni had families or partners. Except for Krennic.

He loved working more than anyone else.

And that was why he held a higher status and carried greater responsibilities than anyone.

Even Krennic himself laughed when someone once asked if he wanted a family. ‘Me? Could you imagine me becoming a husband?’

But look at him now. People change. Even someone like him.

"...You?" Partagaz finally said, blinking again for good measure.

Krennic’s silence was answer enough.

Partagaz composed himself. He drew out the beginning of his reply like a man weighing sarcasm and survival. "Well. You’re quite the taskmaster. Built the Empire’s most terrifying weapon under constant sabotage, bribed every senator who mattered, survived Tarkin’s scrutiny without strangling him, and somehow still find time to maintain a cape collection that rivals the Emperor’s."

Krennic raised a brow, but didn’t protest.

Partagaz pressed on, his tone shifting just enough to betray a smirk. "So yes. I think you need something else to obsess over. Might as well try being domestic."

Krennic exhaled, the sound landing somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

"You think I’d obsess?" he asked, deadpan.

"Oh, please," Partagaz scoffed. "I’ve seen how you look at your cape when it gets dusty. I can only imagine what you’d be like with a baby."

There was a pause. A strange one.

Partagaz didn’t expect his words to land. But Krennic, for once, didn’t fire back. He just looked out through the thick glass at the stars, his eyes darker than before.

It clicked.

"You’re thinking about her," Partagaz said quietly.

Krennic didn’t reply. But he didn’t have to. The angle of his jaw, the way he suddenly couldn’t look Partagaz in the eye, it all told him everything.

The hardened Director of Advanced Weapons, the terror of resource meetings and budget hearings, had been cracked open by something far more dangerous than politics.

"Well then," Partagaz muttered, adjusting the datapad in his hand, "stars help the child who inherits your spine."

Krennic’s gaze didn’t shift. "My child will be brighter than most of the Emperor’s advisors," he said, voice sharp and certain. "I will raise someone so sharp the Empire will have no choice but to be impressed."

Partagaz blinked again. "Is that pride in your voice, Orson?"

Krennic tilted his head, just slightly. "Call it foresight."

Then, softer, as if the bravado couldn’t quite cover the truth: "But do you think I can?"

That gave Partagaz pause.

He’d seen Orson furious, triumphant, cruel. He had never seen him uncertain. That single question, spoken so plainly. Landed heavier than all the firepower in the Death Star.

"You blew up a planet for a woman," Partagaz said, staring at him. "I’d say you’re halfway there."

Krennic finally turned to him.

And he smirked. That familiar, dangerous gleam returning to his eyes.

"I always finish what I start."

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Please feel free to leave your comments. I'd love to know what you think. What do you want too see in the next chapter?

My book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing are on Kindle.

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Amazon.com: Dad, I Can't Let You Go eBook : Bing, Alina C.: Kindle Store

[thesimstree]

15 Best Sims 4 Photoshoot Lifehacks: Tips, Mods, Poses & Screenshot Editing

We’ve all been through situations with ruined photos because someone photobombed, we missed the perfect sunset, or had to round up party guests who wandered off... The list of little things that can go wrong during a photoshoot is endless. We already wrote a detailed guide on how to take pictures in The Sims, but now we want to share a collection of quick lifehacks to help speed things up.

1. How to make your sim look the right way for a photo

Want your sim to look right at the camera or at a certain spot? Here’s a simple trick:

1) Hit pause in the game

2) Switch to first-person mode with Shift+Tab

3) Turn your sim’s head with the mouse in the direction you need

4) Unpause so your sim turns their head

5) As soon as their head is turned, hit pause again

6) Exit first-person mode with Shift+Tab

7) Snap the screenshot!

Plus, it’s a great way to get more “alive,” imperfect shots :)

2. Better camera

Better Camera Overhaul-V6 by @sulsulduck fixes common camera issues in The Sims 4 gameplay: removes camera bounce off objects, tweaks movement speed on upper floors, lets you flip the camera upside down and bring it all the way down to ground level, makes movements smoother, adds click-and-drag movement, and fixes sim tracking bugs.

3. You can ask friends to lend their characters for photos

If a big event is coming up (a wedding, graduation, etc.), you’ll definitely need a lot of sims. Finding them for photos is, of course, no problem: you can always hit up Pinterest and download a bunch of decorative sims.

But if these characters need to be active participants in the shot, not just standing around in the background, the search gets a bit trickier. Especially if it’s not just a huge event, but something really important to you. Everything has to be just right :)

First off, we recommend looking for the right sims among your friends in the community – chances are some of them share your taste in aesthetics.

4. Looking for sims in themed groups

Another way to find sims is through various themed groups and channels. Totally obvious tip, but sometimes we forget about these huge archives. 

5. Lots for shooting in the street

If you need to do a shoot on a busy street, it’s definitely easier to find a ready-made lot. Even better if those lots don’t use CC content. We're sharing links to two great CC-free options for you. Perfect for city photoshoots.

Street without CC + Decorative Sims + Traffic Accident Location by LiZok

New York Street by emeraldstories

6. Separate save for photos

If you set up photoshoots for your sims a lot and often, you know that very often afterwards you need to shoot something else. In your main game, you might have already moved on from that scene, changed everyone’s outfits, and sent them home, but in a special save just for photos everything stays right where you need it.

We suggest getting everything ready for the event in your main game (dress the sims, place the lot, gather all the participants), then make a copy of that save just for screenshots.

7. Check out ready-made saves for cool lots

For your game, not every save from another creator has to be perfect: you can just save the lots you like and use them as locations for your shoots.

8. Slow down time in the game

One of the most important parts of a photo is lighting. While you’re searching for the right angle, moving things and posing everyone, the best light can be gone. Instead of messing with the in-game clock, you can slow down the passage of time using the Command Center.

Click any computer in the house – MCCC Settings – Gameplay Settings – Game Time Speed

Set it to 100–200 for comfortable shooting.

9. Don’t forget to take photos with the in-game camera too

Sometimes we take tons of screenshots, but forget that it can be nice to keep memories of certain events right in the sims’ own house. Use the in-game camera to take photos that’ll stay in your sims’ inventory. After that, you can turn them into fun home decor. You can make them into paintings, calendars, and more. For this, use the Photographic Memory 2.0 mod by @ravasheencc.

10. Clubs for background characters

Basic tip: group other sims into clubs. This helps keep them together so they don’t wander off. Plus, they’ll look great on camera in the background, doing something interesting and bringing life to your photos.

11. How to pose mermaids underwater

To figure it out, check out this clear video.

12. Make sure styles in the shot match

We’re talking about the characters, of course. If all your sims in the photo are made in Maxis style, one Alpha sim next to them will look odd. Try to keep the style consistent for each shoot. If everyone is styled the same way (doesn’t matter if it’s all Maxis, all Alpha, or a mix on everyone) – that’s perfect.

13. Adjusting character height

If you’re not happy with how the sims look next to each other in terms of height during a shoot, it’s easy to fix using positioning in Wicked Whims. Just turn on positioning and use the up-down arrows.

Click on the sim – Wicked – Actions – Enable Positioning

This also helps solve issues with poses that mess up the height.

14. Put sims in poses so they don’t wander off

If you don’t need certain sims in the shot at the moment, the easiest way to control them is to put them in a pose. This keeps them from leaving the lot too early, or photobombing the background. Once they’re in a pose, use Wicked Whims positioning to move them out of the way so they don’t get in the shot.

15. Post-processing screenshots

Screenshots done up like polaroids look super cozy. If you like that style too, check out the Photokako site. It really streamlines and speeds up the process.

For even more editing options, there’s the DAZZ CAM app. It lets you enhance screenshots right from your phone. By the way, that can be a lot more convenient for getting pics ready for social media.

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[fisheito]

The Yaku🔴sub⚫️dom⚪️neutral ratio check, SSR event units from left to right:

🔴⚫️🔴⚪️ ⚫️⚫️🔴⚫️ ⚪️⚫️🔴⚫️ ⚫️⚫️🔴⚫️

+⚪️⚪️OG SSR +🔴Story H +⚪️OG SR +⚪️SR Incognito Cafe

= 6🔴/9⚫️/6⚪️÷21

=29%🔴/42%⚫️/29%⚪️

Justifications for each room under the cut 🤨

Disclaimer: do i have an actual system for classifying what is subby vs. dommy? nope! i vaguely describe dom as "controls the pace/leads the actions" and that's it ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

Cocoa Liqueur:

🔴 R2: eiden grabs yakumo by the dick/forces him to take a break ⚫️ R5: baby's first kabedon. yaku goes jealous 2000s seme mode

Ocean Breeze:

🔴 R2: woe, eiden's oral skills be upon ye (try not to squeak too loud) ⚪️ R5: yaku going "pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease" and eiden answering "sure"

Crimson Phantom:

⚫️ R2: lost in the bloodsauce, immediate regret ⚫️ R5: better grip on the bloodsauce, Count Domkumo fully awakened

Dark Nova:

🔴 R2: "don't think. just follow my instructions" ⚫️ R5: yaku lacks lucidity and is hopped up on snake senses. less self-control leads eiden to go on the defensive

Shadow Lineage:

⚪️ R2: veers into dom bc yakumo's pinning eiden/eiden has no leverage, but net neutral bc yakumo still acts on orders ⚫️ R5: yakumo puts on a show for his annual outdoor sex evaluation, and eiden submits fully to snake bondage

Fateful Aegis:

🔴 R2: NAKED APRON YAKUMO ON HIS KNEES ⚫️ R5: yaku caught too many emotions again and drills eiden into the floor

Abyssal Pearl:

⚫️ R2: starts with power of Eiden Suggestion, but ultimately ends up in dom territory due to phenomenon of Domkumo Voice. ⚫️ R5: yaku shows eiden how much he wants him (it's a lot)

Sword of Determination:

🔴 R2: behave like a good student and you'll get a salty reward ⚫️ R5: plumbing be damned, you're getting splooged in the shower

OG SSR

⚪️ R2: they compromise on their horny goals because they have to get up early tomorrow for character development ⚪️ R5: eiden provides live feedback so yakumo will continue railing him against the wall, also stop apologising

🔴 Story H: yakumo learns what (human) sex is

⚪️ OG SR R5: respectfully, let's fuck *pushes eiden onto the bed* (mostly eiden indulging a pent up yaku)

⚪️ SR Incognito Cafe: eiden holds the reins in the first half, yakumo gains control in the second. a truly riveting game of push and pull.

[c-dragon-art]

The Foxhole Court Chapter 1 Webcomic

Part 1 >> Next

Do Not Repost/Translate Without Permission

[buttercupshands]

I took that as a challenge so now it's a full comic of me making Siffrin happier by the second

And a small bonus

Because there's not one but two Siffrins who deserve some happiness in their lives

even if by just getting their favorite snack