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thesirensims · 2 months

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The Bikini Bottom Legacy

Hi Guys! Oooooo🎙️🎶🎵🎼🧜🏽‍♀️! My name is SirenSims & I have been thinking for a long while about a legacy challenge that I could create that was a bit different from the other challenges I have been seeing. So I thought about the personalities of the Spongebob Squarepants Characters, and so The Bikini Bottom Legacy was formed! There are a ton of personalities to play with in the Sims 3. So this Legacy will help you discover those and have some juicy Storylines to keep it engaging! It was hard to pick just 10 archetypes, and some of these features I’ve never used before so I’m excited to try this out!

If you decide to do this, tag me thesirensims or bikinibottomlegacy so I can see! And feel free to let me know what you think. This is my first challenge so if there are things I could do differently/better let me know!

Important! - This Challenge is not Basegame only, if you find a way to convert it to Basegame or to the Sims 2, Please tag me! I would love to see that! Also, This Challenge is Story Driven to help it not get boring fast. So try to stick to the required storylines as needed. And please do not use the money or needs Cheats in this challenge if you can manage ( Makes it more fun IMO) <3

And without further ado, the challenge.

Generation 1 - SpongeBob Squarepants

You have a heart of gold and just want to make others happy with your Cooking! Your Family raised you to be positive, helpful & friendly (even to your detriment!). Moving into a new town you bring light, laughter, and good food. You bought a two-story tiny house for you and your feline friend (Cat with any G name you want). You made two best friends, one Grumpy and one Lazy ( Make them in CAS or find sims with those traits in town). By the time you reach level 6 or 7 seven of your Culinary Career, you feel like spreading your love by extending your family. So you adopt a kid-aged sim ( Easily Impressed & Couch Potatoe Trait required). At this point you know everyone in town & go out whenever you are invited (despite the inconvenience). You have a lot of experiences on your belt and you boast a jellyfish you caught yourself and a few different Butterfly Species you collected on days off (atleast 3 types). You end your life as a wise Chef that people can't help but love!

Traits Needed - (You can use This mod to add more traits if you want, or just choose 5. Natural cook and childish being required.) Natural Cook, Childish, Cat Person, Easily Impressed, Good, Workaholic, Neat, Lucky.

Lifetime Wish - Celebrated Five Star Chef

Career Needed - Culinary (Specifically a Dinner, not the Bistro)

Recommended Town - Any European World You like or Monte Vista.

Aesthetic Color - Yellow (Pastel, Golden, Sunshine, etc...)

Create A Sim Addons - Freckles and or Moles. Bunny or Buck Teeth (Using Sliders and Teeth CC). Blonde hair with any race of sim. Blue Eyes. Uniform for Everyday Outfit (Colored in red, white, and khaki brown). Sim's name must start with Sv or Sp (Otherwise call them a Variant of Bob or Bobbie).

Favorite Food - Burgers (Obviously LOL)

Favorite Music - Island Life

Zodiac Sign - Sagittarius

Voice Pitch - High (Male or Female)

Charity - Give up to $5,000 to charity.

Starter Money - $1,500 (After Decorating or just struggling with bare necessities)

Romance - Meet a Mermaid or Scientist and marry them.

Pet Goal - Become Best Friends with Cat.

Heir - Adopt a sims of child age.

Get up to level 4 or up to 7 in Martial arts skill.

Max the Chef Skill and Charisma Skill.

Brighten 10 Sims day.

Generation 2 - Patrick Star

You have a soft place in your heart for your parents. Especially the one that adopted you, because life was hard before you met them. You only moved out of their home after you became an adult since you were so comfy. You miss their cooking and how they accepted you for who you are. But since they passed, it's been hard to look at the walls of bright yellow memories. You move into a tiny house or apartment because you don't require a lot to live comfortably. People expect a lot from you, however, you don't have the same work ethic as your parents. You start off as a Day Spa attendant for the perks and to help others relax and have a good time. You go to clubs every weekend and get sloshed. You even have a one night-stand or three. As a hobby, you love to fish (Maybe you could do it for money one day). You just want to relax and live free. Can you survive on a reckless low-maintenance lifestyle?

Traits Needed - Couch Potatoe, Childish, Easily Impressed, Party-Animal, Slob, Absent-Minded, Heavy Sleeper or Angler.

Lifetime Wish - Master Romancer or Presenting the Perfect Private Aquarium.

Career Needed - You can either become a self-employed fisherman or Only work in Part-time Jobs (Specifically the Spa Career).

Recommended Town - Any Island or City World You Like, or Pleasant View

Aesthetic Color - Pink ( Pastel, Hot pink, Rose Gold, etc...)

Create A Sim Addons - Sim must have a few Moles and maybe even a scar. Give sim Pink Hair. Sim must have a fat or thick body type due to years of eating a lot. Beach style or Beach theme party outfit for Everyday wear. Have a piercing or two and tattoos once you become a teen/adult. Sim`s name must start with Pat (Can also be a variant of Patrick or Patricia).

Favorite Food - Tri Tip Steak

Favorite Music - Beach Party

Zodiac Sign - Aquarius

Romance - Have some one-night stands.

Heir - A baby you had because of a one night. (Must have the traits - Grumpy and Artistic)

Charity - Give up to $2,500 to charity in honor of Last Gen Founder.

Catch 3 different Types of Butterflies.

Throw at least 3 Successful Parties.

Visit Parents grave once a week to mourn.

Brighten 5 sims day.

Generation 3 - Squidward Tentacles

Your Parent was definitely not strict, but they gave you so much freedom that you ended up resenting them and the rest of the town. Their lack of attentiveness caused you to fall off a slide and break your nose, as a preteen, so you had to get it fixed. However, a mishap occurred at the plastic surgeon that made your nose a little longer than normal. You had to move to the City where people are as rude and isolated as you are. One thing that you do thank your parents for is their overbearing but consistent support of your love for Painting and music. Once settled in the new City you make one friend who is so positive you don't see them very often (On Purpose!). You also make an enemy on the first day that infuriates and intrigues you at the same time. Your Dream is to be a composer for Movies, but you`ll be happy just making a living in the arts in general. You hate Butterflies and Jellyfish cause they remind you of your Parent, but you do get a pet and name it after your Parent. (Maybe you do miss them). Hopefully, a life of semi-solitude will fulfill you and help you live your dreams.

Traits Needed - Grumpy, Loner, Artistic, Dislikes Children, Hot Headed, Snob.

Lifetime Wish - Master of Arts or Rockstar

Career Need - Hit Movie Composer or Self-Employed Artist.

Recommended Town - Any City town you want or Bridgeport.

Aesthetic Color - Irish Green (Light green, Pastel, soft green hue, etc...)

Create A Sim Addons - Give Sim a longer Nose. Allow the sim to have a grunge aesthetic with brown and green colors. Sims' hair can also be colored or highlighted a shade of green. Sim can have a nose piercing and one to two tattoos.

Favorite Food - Philly Cheesesteak

Favorite Music - Classical

Zodiac Sign - Aries

Romance - Enemies to lovers (You can have a love child or get married and have a baby accidentally)

Heir - An accidental baby (Must have traits - Frugal and Mooch)

Max any instrument skill in the slowest time possible (Reach lvl 10 as an elder!)

Reach at least Lvl 6 in Cooking skill.

Join or start a band and host at least 1 SUCCESFUL performance (Getting over 100-300 Simoleans in tips)

Heckle at least 5 different sims.

Generation 4 - Eugene H. Krabs

Even though your Parent did not plan for you, you still had an okay childhood. To make up for the distant Parenting you grew an attachment to the idea of Financial stability. Your parent loved their dream more than providing for the family. You plan to never make that mistake! You are brilliant at selling things and decided to move to an island. This was a strategic move to sell more modern things to natives who live in older comfort. You have a love for food like your grandparents that caused you to sell muffins and lemonade in your childhood. Now as an adult, you are considering being either a Restauranteer or Hotel Mogul. You will use anyone for a quick buck, causing you to sell out your best childhood friend, making them a lifelong nemesis. Despite your success, you feel lonely and have love hidden in your heart that you want to share. So you adopt a girl toddler that looks nothing like you. You shower her with love and even a bit of your money (Through kicking and screaming!). At the apex of your career and wealth, you feel a hole in your heart only a warm body could fill. You meet a sim that makes you feel romantic and alive, you spend some time wooing them. And although it didn't work out, you can look back on your life and say you loved every bit of it.

Traits Needed - Born Salesman, Frugal, Mooch, Ambitious, Natural Cook, Lucky

Lifetime Wish - Swimming in Cash or Resort Empire

Career Need - Self-Employed Resort Owner, or Own The Bistro & Diner

Recommended Town - Any Island World you Like or Isla Paradiso

Aesthetic Color - Green

Create A Sim Addons - Sim has a pudge due to eating well when they made meals. Sim must dye their hair red by Young Adulthood. Sim must wear a suit with blue colors.

Favorite Food - Waffles

Favorite Music - Electronica

Zodiac Sign - Libra

Romance - Fall for someone Older ( One Life State Above Yours - Adult or Elder)

Heir - An adopted Toddler (Must have Traits - Snob & Dramatic)

Mooch over 100 Simoleans from one sim.

Reach Cooking lvl 10.

Only shop with Coupons.

Never buy anything over 300 Simoleans.

Generation 5 - Pearl Krabs

You loved your childhood and your Single parent. You love the life that you were afforded and you have no desire to give it up. You are a bit of a brat, but that's only because you're a star (Obviously). You plan to make it big in the movies and keep up the family legacy by keeping up the money. So of course you move back to the city of dreams your grandparents used to live in. However, that might be hard considering your eclectic taste in decore and cars. Hopefully, a high-paying profession will make up for your purchases. Despite your Big Features, you`re attractive to most sims around, and you take advantage of this by starting an affair with a wealthy celeb. Hey don't judge, we only mess with sims that impress us. Maybe we will settle down with that same sim one day, or maybe another (😉). During your 7th year as an actress (Level 7), you remember your Parent and what they did for you. So in a moment of passion, you adopted a smart kid and funded their dreams the way your Parent did for you.

Traits Needed - Snob, Dramatic, Schmoozer, Star Quality, Irresistible, Great Kisser

Lifetime Wish - Lifestyle of The Rich & Famous or Superstar Actor

Career Need - Actor or Socialite (Find Socialite Career Here)

Recommended Town - Any City World you Like or Anne Arbor

Aesthetic Color - Hot Pink

Create A Sim Addons - Sim must have Blonde hair despite race. Sim must have some big features and a shapely body type. Must wear Girly pink dresses. Sim must have blue eyes and bangs.

Favorite Food - Lobster Thermidor

Favorite Music - Pop

Zodiac Sign - Leo

Romance - Have an Affair with Married Celebrity. Marry a Celebrity (It can be the one you had an affair with if you like)

Heir - Adopt a child sim. (Must have Traits - Genius & Computer Whiz)

Befriend at least 4 Celebrity sims.

Have one Scandal.

Dance on table at the Club at least once.

Generation 6 - Sandy Cheeks

You love your Mother for how she supported your dreams. It gave you a leg up in school and allowed you to have some fun while studying in University, You have a logical yet fun spirit that leads you to make the world better using science. You have the spirit of your great-greatx2 grandparent. This pushes you to help others and make advances to make others' lives easier. You have a love of your body that was shared with your mom. However, you take to a different place by learning Martial arts. You gain a high level in that skill during a trip to China. China is where you also find the love of your life (another martial artist) and bring them home with you after a small wedding ceremony in their community. As you advance in your Career as a scientist, you feel further fulfilled by teaching sims martial arts on the side. You cap off your life (aka level 7 of the science career) by making your own offspring. You have a plant-sim baby. This decision will change the lives of others down the line. Was this unnatural child a mistake?

Traits Needed - Handy, Eccentric, Disciplined, Genius, Computer Whiz, Green Thumb

Lifetime Wish - Scientific Specialist or Martial Arts Master

Career Need - Science

Recommended Town - Any Town World or Riverview

Aesthetic Color - Lilac

Create A Sim Addons - Sim must have light brown hair. Light brown eyes. Sim should have buck teeth (which can be simulated using sliders and bunny teeth cc). Sim if a woman must be slim thicc (Small waist, medium boobs, big butt). Sim can wear glasses if you want to show their intelligence that way.

Favorite Food - Grilled Cheese

Favorite Music - Geek Rock

Zodiac Sign - Virgo

Romance - A martial artist from China ( Have a whirlwind romance that ends in marriage before the trip ends).

Heir - Plant-Sim (Must have traits - Evil & Bot Fan)

Max the science skill.

Make your Imaginary friend real.

Have a collection of animals. (Turtles, and other small pets)

Max the Martial Arts Skill.

Max the Yoga & Meditation Skill (Here is the Yoga Mod)

Generation 7 - Sheldon J. Plankton

You lived in a level of solitude, as your hero parents were not into your brand of social interaction (Klepto and Mean Spirited behavior). Even though you were pretty smart, you still felt the need to take things that weren`t yours. Despite all of this, you somehow managed to be a scientific prodigy like your mom. You had a childhood friend that you had a bad betrayal from, and that sim became your nemesis for life. This betrayal made it hard for you to make friends. You decided to go to University online to hone your skills. After you graduate, you leave home and find a new job to reinvent yourself. So you join the Criminal career so you can become The Emperor of Evil. There's always been an emptiness in your soul that you fill with machines so you won't be alone. In the end, you live life with a robot who loves you and start a makeshift family from that union.

Traits Needed - Kleptomaniac, Evil, Computer Whiz, Eccentric, Bot Fan

Lifetime Wish - Emperor of Evil or More Than A Machine

Career Need - Criminal

Recommended Town -Any Country Town or Lunar Lakes ( You do not have to move for this gen)

Aesthetic Color - Green

Create A Sim Addons - Sim must keep a lean or skinny physique. You can use plant-sim skin and detail replacements. This sim can wear glasses if you like. Sim can wear shades of grey with either a suit or overalls (You decide their aesthetic)

Favorite Food - Hamburger

Favorite Music - Digitunes

Zodiac Sign - Cancer

Romance - Fall in Love with the Sim Bot you plan to make Sentient. ( Call simbot Karen)

Heir - Baby you had with Karen. (Must have Traits - Neurotic & Handy)

Steal candy from a baby.

Burn down a home.

Steal from at least 2 Homes.

Build the Perfect Simbot.

Generation 8 - Mrs. Puff

Growing up with an Evil parent and a stressed robotic mom didn't help the anxiety you were born with. You always had the uncomfortable feeling that something was going wrong. You helped yourself destress with food, which made you gain a plumb physique. To help you pass the time you gained an obsession with cars. Your evil parent was a mechanical genius and you learned to drive at a young age. You even knew how to fix vehicles as well. However, above all else, you have a knack for home decor and design. you became used to homes as you stayed inside often as a kid to avoid danger. It was your dream to become an interior designer. You find love unexpectedly with a younger wealthy sim. You have a love child by that sim. That boy was born brave and took care of you until you found inner strength.

Traits Needed - Neurotic, Unstable, Hopeless Romantic, Vehicle Enthusiastic, Handy, Frugal.

Lifetime Wish - Home Design Hotshot

Career Need - Interior Designer

Recommended Town - Any Comfy World You Like or Strawberry Acres (you do not have to move for this gen)

Aesthetic Color - Aqua

Create A Sim Addons - Sim must have a bigger body type (Not fit). Sim must have Platinum blonde Hair despite race. Sim must have Hazel eyes. Sim can wear an academia-style outfit with red blue and white color patterns.

Favorite Food - Cobbler

Favorite Music - Soul

Zodiac Sign - Capricorn

Romance - Get into a Relationship with a Wealthy Sim (Get pregnant from this relationship)

Heir - Baby Boy (Must have Traits - Brave & Loves to Swim)

Max the Handiness Skill.

Freak out on at least 2 Sims.

Build one Car.

Own 3 Cars apart from the one you built.

Make all appliances in your home unbreakable.

Generation 9 - Larry The Lobster

You didn't have much of a childhood, since you spent most of your time protecting your worrying Mother. You were a nice kid who never made friends until you were a young adult. You are all about helping people with their fitness and helping them have safe fun at the beach. So your best path was becoming a lifeguard. One day you get abducted by an alien (Do you become pregnant? Do you keep it?). This experience causes you to take life more seriously and makes you want to protect people even more. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Alternate Option; Instead of Alien pregnancy and a possible love story. You can find love with a mermaid sim.

Traits Needed - Athletic, Brave, Loves to Swim, Daredevil, Charisma, Good

Lifetime Wish - Perfect Mind/ Perfect Body or Seaside Savior

Career Need - Lifeguard

Recommended Town - Any Beach / Island World or Sunlit Tides

Aesthetic Color - Red

Create A Sim Addons - Sim must have Red hair and Green eyes. Sim must have an athletic build. Sim can have freckles. Sim can have a Scar or two. Sim must have Beach type of Attire for every day wear (For males an open shirt, for girls a crocheted top)

Favorite Food - Stu Surprise

Favorite Music - Hip Hop

Zodiac Sign - Scorpio

Romance - Fall in love with Alien or Mer Sim. (Have a half-alien or mermaid sim baby)

Heir - A Female Occult Sim (Preferably a mermaid, but it can be alien too). (Must have Traits - Adventurous and Shy)

Save at least 10 Sims (5 if you're trying to speed up the Challenge)

Break up with 2 Sims before Settling Down.

Host 3 Epic Parties. (Can be any type of Party)

Generation 10 - Princess Mindy

You grew up in a warm and loving home with a great father who believed in you and protected you. He emboldened you to follow your dreams. Now you want to travel the world and document it with your trusty camera. You have always loved taking pictures and having new experiences, even though you are shy. You want to break out of your shell and become a brave explorer. You are also a good person who always gains bravery from being able to help people. Maybe you will find love during your adventures. And if not who cares!! You`re In love with The Journey Anyway!

Traits Needed - Adventurous, Lucky, Photographer`s Eye, Shy, Good

Lifetime Wish - Seasoned Traveler or Grand Explorer

Career Need - Self Employed Photographer or Monarch (Find Monarch Career Mod Here)

Recommended Town - Any World you Like or Sunset Valley

Aesthetic Color - Turquoise

Create A Sim Addons - Sim must wear glasses. Sim must have Short Black hair. Sim can wear a girly top and a long jeans skirt.

Favorite Food - Kelp

Favorite Music - Island Life

Zodiac Sign - Pisces

Romance - Do whatever feels right to Finish your story!

Max the Photography Skill.

Collect 3 Butterflies (2 must be RARE)

Befriend 1 rich Sim.

Reach at least to lvl 6 or 7 of Model Skill.

#youtube #the sims 3 #sims youtube #ts3 legacy #sims 3 blog #simblr #sims 3 #sims youtuber #bikini bottom #Bikini Bottom Legacy #y2k aesthetic #aesthetic #sims 3 challenge #sims 3 gameplay

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folkloresthings · 10 months

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if you are still doing requests... would you please do knuckles with lance? <3

[ knuckles ] for a kiss on the hand with lance stroll.

the monaco casino was much more glamorous than you ever could have imagined. the place was decorated to the nines, glitter and gold, for some annual formula one hosted fundraiser. lance had invited you as his date, your first official outing together, and he’d really committed to making it a night to remember.

he’d bought your dress, one you insisted was far too expensive, and your shoes and whatever accessories you even glanced at. they’d been delivered to your hotel suite that morning, along with a bunch of flowers and a some chocolates. you spent most of the day getting ready, every so often receiving a “can’t wait to see you” text from lance.

and now you were standing just inside the lobby, having escaped the photographers outside, feeling terribly out of place amongst the social elite of monte carlo. lance was somewhere inside, with the rest of the drivers — they’d arrived earlier, needed for photographs. he was the only person you knew here. you’d met fernando once or twice, but that was about it.

most people were heading in one direction, so you followed them up the red velvet carpet towards the music. people passed by while you stood on top of the stairs, eyes scanning the room for one person only.

and then there he was. a dashing black suit, a crisp white suit, slicked back hair. he looked so handsome, you swore you’d never seen another man look so nice before. you caught the moment he spotted you, halting in the middle of a conversation with mick schumacher, everything slowing down as he took in the sight of you atop the stairs, golden light haloing around you.

“excuse me,” you saw him mutter, pushing past guests to get to you as quickly as he could. his hand clasped over his chest, eyes raking from your head to toe. for show, you gave a little spin, turning back just as he reached the step below you.

“hello,” you greet, shyly.

“you look… wow,” lance breathes out, somewhat caught in a trance. you were the picture of a dream, an angel appeared before him. reaching out, his fingers brush along your arm, tingling your skin. as soon as he reaches your hand, he grasps it gently. without his gaze ever leaving your own, he pulls your knuckles upward, to his lips, pressing an ever—lingering kiss to the skin there.

“can i ask for a dance with the prettiest girl in the room?” he asks, a cheeky smile pulling at his features. you laugh shakily, the nerves still wearing off, even though he was there now.

“maybe a drink first?” you ask, looping your arm in his.

“only the finest, for my lady.”

#🌙 ﹐ drabbles.#formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll #lance stroll drabble #lance stroll instagram au

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formulauno98 · 10 months

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A Birthday to Remember - Toto Wolff x OC

My first attempt at a one-shot, based on this glorious request from @latte-luxe:

If you can, could you please write a short, but spicy🌶️🌶️🌶️ one shot of a young, crazy, yet loveable 5'2 Maestra who is celebrating her 30th birthday in Monaco, and a certain 6'5 F1 team principal laid eyes on her and knew he just had to have her. 😅😅😅🙏🙏🙏

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Caution may contain spice.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

THE MORNING

It was Saturday morning and stepping out onto her balcony at the Fairmont Monte Carlo, Fernanda swept her eyes over the spectacular view. It was a pinch yourself to check if you’re dreaming kind of view of sparkling blue waters, peppered every so often with a gleaming white yacht.

“Good morning, birthday girl.” murmured a husky, heavily accented voice from behind her. Before she even had the chance to turn around, a pair of muscular arms swooped around her from behind before coming to rest on her hips, gently squeezing her curves.

“Good morning to you too,” she said, turning around and leaning up to kiss the tall towel-clad Austrian, resting her hand on his bare chest as he pressed himself tightly against her. It was yet another pinch me I’m dreaming moment. If someone had told Fernanda this time yesterday that this was how she would be spending her Saturday morning she would have laughed and called them crazy, but sometimes life could be crazy.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

It was a sunny evening and Fernanda had stood out on the balcony with a glass of wine in her hand, admiring the view whilst waiting for her three best friends to get ready. As a lifelong Formula One lover, a weekend trip to Monaco had been on the cards for a while so when her friends asked where she wanted to go to celebrate her thirtieth birthday it was at the top of the list. Turning the dream into reality was another thing altogether and she still couldn’t believe that the trip had materialised.

Dinner was due to be lowkey as Saturday was going to be the big night out, with dinner plans at Elsa, a Michelin-star establishment, followed by a night on the tiles at Jimmyz, a club frequented by the world of Formula One. Friday night’s restaurant of choice was Song Qi, an upscale Chinese restaurant in Larvotto that had come highly recommended.

“Fernanda, how long is the walk?” A voice called out from the suite.

“About five/ten minutes.” She replied, sighing, as always the mom of the group.

“Medium heels it is then,” her friend Olivia replied.

“We can always get a car,” Fernanda suggested.

“No, let’s conserve the taxi budget for tomorrow night,” Olivia said, stepping out onto the balcony to

accompany her friend, “Laura and Becca are almost ready.”

“Good idea,” Fernanda replied, “You look gorgeous by the way.”

Olivia beamed with the compliment, stepping back to twirl in her pink minidress and sparkling sandals, “I try my best, although I can’t compete with you, my spicy little Salma Hayek twin.”

Fernanda blushed, everyone always compared her to the diminutive Mexican actress and truth be told, it wasn’t the worst comparison in the world. She’d chosen a simple white dress with gold sandals for the evening’s dinner, perhaps a risky move in a restaurant serving noodles but she felt fabulous. Her dark hair was slicked back into an elegant bun and she’d highlighted her tanned skin with golden shimmering oil, a move that always brought the compliments.

It wasn’t long before Laura and Becca also emerged, both looking as beautiful as ever. The four friends had treated themselves to two adjoining suites and opened up the connecting door to create a mega-suite.

“Oh la la, give us a twirl,” said Fernanda, looking her elegant friend up and down as she dutifully spun around.

“Beautiful!” Now it was Laura and Becca’s turn to blush. “Ditto! Shall we get going?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Fernanda agreed, the four of them making their way off of the balcony.

——

Song Qi turned out to be an excellent choice, with the table weighed down with baskets of dim sum and bowls of noodles, crispy beef and endless wontons. The restaurant was decadent but comfortable and as Fernanda sank back into her sumptuous green velvet chair she spotted a strangely familiar face at the table across from them. He was dark-haired, handsome with chiselled features and although he was sat down, tall, as he towered above the two men he was dining with.

It took a moment to realise that it was none other than Toto Wolff, the affable Mercedes Formula One team principal. Although she thought it was only for a moment, Fernanda must have stared for a while as he briefly met her eyes and shot her a charming smile. Smiling back like a fool, her friends whipped their heads around to see who their friend was smiling at, fortunately, Toto not noticing as he had returned to his plate.

“Damn girl, he’s kinda hot, in that old businessman kind of way,” said Olivia, turning back around to face Fernanda.

“Well yes…” Fernanda stuttered, “He’s also one of the team principals in Formula One.”

“Huh?” Asked her three friends blankly, not followers of the sport.

“Kind of like the equivalent of a football manager,” Fernanda explained, “Except he owns some of the team as well.”

“Fancy, well he’s pretty. You should go and talk to him.” Said Laura, all formula one facts going straight over her head.

“Oh my god, no,” Fernanda said, “I’m sure he was just being polite.”

As if on cue, Toto looked up and locked eyes with her once again, his deep brown eyes crinkling. Fernanda gulped, returning his gaze with a smile once again.

Dinner continued, with the girls chatting away as Fernanda every so often met Toto’s eyes across the crowded restaurant. He looked to be in some kind of business meeting as the two men with him were dressed smartly and looked serious while conversing with them.

It wasn’t long before dinner had been cleared and a smiling waiter emerged with a chocolate cake laden down with a sparkler and a golden thirty-number candle, Olivia, Becca and Laura looking at each other mischievously before breaking into a rousing rendition of the Happy Birthday song. Fernanda felt her cheeks reddening as she realised the entire restaurant, including Toto and his business associates had joined in the song. As she blew out the candle, she once again locked eyes with Toto who was grinning away while applauding.

“You guys are the worst,” Fernanda said, half joking as she shook her head at her friends. “But that’s why I love you.”

“Aw, well we had to do something,” said Laura, “It’s not every day you have a big birthday like this and although I still don’t understand why you love your car racing so much, I’m happy that we came here.”

Fernanda smiled at her friends, she was appreciative of them, enabling her desire to walk around the Formula One track and visit the car museum, despite the fact they really weren’t interested. Just as she was musing how ironic it was that she’d seen Toto Wolff, their waiter reappeared with a tray of drinks.

“Oh, I don’t think we ordered those,” said Olivia politely.

“Yes Madame, in fact, the gentlemen over there sent them alongside their birthday wishes.” The waiter replied.

Fernanda’s eyes widened, Toto Wolff had sent her birthday wishes. An interesting turn of events.

“Well, then that’s very nice of them,” said Olivia, as the waiter set them down, “Fernanda, you should go and say thank you!”

“Oh my God, yes, go!” Said Becca, egging her friend on.

Sighing, but also buoyed by her friends’ enthusiasm, Fernanda spoke, “I’m going to go but only to say thank you.”

Her three friends squealing with excitement, Fernanda took an extra sip of her drink for courage before standing up and sauntering over to where Toto and his associates sat. His interest piqued immediately as he noticed her making her way across the restaurant.

“Good evening, sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to say thank you for the drinks, it was very kind of you,” Fernanda said, a little too quickly due to nerves.

“Well, it’s not every day you celebrate a milestone like that.” Replied Toto kindly, standing up to hold out a hand to shake, “I’m Toto by the way, and this is Jean and Sebastian,” he gestured at the older gentlemen he was dining with.

Struck by the almost comical height difference Fernanda looked up at the tall Austrian in front of her as he gripped her hand very tightly, “I’m Fernanda, nice to meet you all.”

The other gentlemen smiled at her politely, wishing her a happy birthday before picking their conversation back up. Toto, however, remained stood up, his eyes raking her curves. “Fernanda?” He asked, “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Now Fernanda was really blushing, “You’re far too kind.”

“Not at all,” he said, “I hope you do not think this forward but would you like to join me for dinner one evening?”

Fernanda’s eyes widened, floored that this man was asking her out. “I would love to but unfortunately I’m only here until Sunday so I’m not sure if I’ll have time.”

Toto looked disappointed but pressed further, “Well then, how about a drink later this evening?”

Fernanda’s eyes went even wider before she managed to answer, “I’m not sure, it’s a girl's trip and I don’t want to ditch my friends, I really would love to though. Maybe can I get your number and text you once I’ve figured out their plans?”

“Understood,” replied Toto, looking down, gazing into her eyes with an unreadable expression, “It would be my pleasure, give me your phone.”

Fernanda’s eyes lit up as she handed her phone to the tall Austrian in front of her who deftly punched in his contact. “Thank you, I’ll check in with the girls and let you know. I’ll leave you to your dinner for now but I hope to see you later,” she said with a smile.

Toto turned to glance at his dining companions who were still deep in conversation, and dropped closer down to Fernanda’s ear, keeping his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine, “It’s okay, I don’t think they missed me. I hope to see you later too Fernanda.”

Fernanda looked up at Toto with a smile, “I’m sure they did. See you, Toto.” As she turned back towards her table she glanced over her shoulder and saw Toto’s eyes were locked on her as he returned to his seat. He was undeniably hot and as much as she always abided by the golden rule, chicks before dicks, this was special circumstances.

Sitting back down with her friends, they immediately leaned in to get the lowdown.

“What did he say? He didn’t take his eyes off of you!” said Laura excitedly.

“Just wished me a happy birthday… and asked me out,” said Fernanda blushing.

“No way!” exclaimed her three friends in unison.

“You’re going to go right?” said Olivia, looking at her friend in concern.

“I’m not sure.” said Fernanda, “I don’t want to ditch you all for a man but equally he’s hot as fuck and it would only be for an hour or so.”

“An hour or so?” said Becca, raising her eyebrows, “I doubt this, but you should go, make it a memorable birthday!”

Fernanda looked over once again at where Toto sat, he was a striking man, pushing all of his success to one side. “What the hell, I’ll message him now. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Her friends squealed with excitement in unison.

Fernanda grabbed her phone and nervously began typing her message to Toto.

It’s all good for tonight, we’re almost done eating so I’m free whenever you are.

She could see Toto excuse himself and take out his phone, shooting her a grin from across the restaurant before looking down to type a response.

Sure enough, Fernanda’s phone buzzed.

Perfect, so are we. Shall I meet you outside in ten minutes?

Fernanda replied excitedly, still not believing she was texting Toto Wolff of all people.

Sounds like a plan.

——

Fernanda was nervous but excited as she saw Toto and his associates pay their bill and head off, Toto shooting her a wink as he jostled his way out of the restaurant.

Settling their own bill, Fernanda and her friends were close behind and as she exited the restaurant, sure enough, she saw Toto standing outside waiting for her, leaning casually up against a column.

Bidding her friends goodbye, she made her way towards her date for the evening. “Hi,” she said somewhat awkwardly, knowing that her friends were likely watching from where they were ordering a taxi to return them to their hotel.

“Hi,” he said, glancing down at her fondly, “How was your dinner?”

“So good!” she said, “How was yours?”

“It was okay, my dining companions weren’t as lovely as you but I think my evening is improving,” he said with a rakish grin.

Fernanda smiled, “You’re a charmer, Toto. Where were you thinking of heading?”

“I know a place a few streets behind, it’s not so fancy but they have an excellent selection of wine if you like it?”

Knowing that she was already a little tipsy, Fernanda was grateful he’d suggested wine, “Sounds good to me, lead the way, Mr Wolff!”

Toto whipped his head around, “I never told you my surname.”

Feeling she’d made a huge error of judgement, Fernanda stuttered, his dark eyes intimidating her before she decided the best course of action was to fess up, “Well it took me a moment but I recognised you. Guilty as charged.”

Musing quietly, Toto’s expression softened, “So you know a little about me, tell me about yourself.”

As the pair made their way around the twisting streets towards the bar, Fernanda filled Toto in on her background, her career as a teacher and her plans for the weekend.

Soon enough they arrived at their destination, Toto, taking the lead and speaking with the Maitre D’ who promptly led them to a secluded table towards the back of the bar.

Settling down on the chair opposite Toto, Fernanda was suddenly much more nervous.

“You look nervous,” Toto said, his eyes kind.

“Well, this is not how I thought my evening was going to pan out. The ruse is up in that I recognised you so I may as well tell you that we came to Monaco because I love Formula One.” Fernanda blushed furiously as her words tangled into one.

“Relax Fernanda, so you know about formula one?” he said, reaching across the table, taking her hand in his and tracing small circles with his thumb on the back of her hand.

“Well, probably not as much as you.” Fernanda laughed, breaking the tension and gazing into his eyes.

“You’d be surprised,” said Toto shrugging with a smirk. “I just got lucky.”

——

As the evening went on, the pair discussed everything under the sun, the wine helping Fernanda to feel less awkward and forget who she was talking to. Toto was funnier than she expected and she spent half the evening giggling at his stupid remarks. He’d regaled her with stories of his travel adventures, driving mishaps and various other anecdotes, whilst she’d filled him in with her tales of teaching and embarrassing childhood moments. They’d bonded over their love of all things with an engine and time had flown by.

“Ahem.” Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a waiter, “Monsieur, Madame, I am sorry to say that we are closing in ten minutes. Can I take one last order?”

Knowing she was well beyond tipsy, Fernanda shook her head, looking at Toto to check if he was in agreement. Looking somewhat bleary-eyed himself he shook his head as well, “Just the bill please.”

Soon enough the cheque had been settled and Fernanda found herself once again wandering the moonlit streets of Monaco with Toto, this time her hand firmly encased in his.

“Where do you need to go?” Toto asked kindly, “I can drop you back.”

“I’m staying at the Fairmont,” Fernanda replied, not wanting the night to end.

“It’s not so far, are you happy to walk?” he asked, squeezing her hand.

“Sure, it’s just up there,” she replied gesturing at the bend in the road where the hotel was perched, “As long as you can get home okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Toto, a dark look in his eye. “Fernanda, when do you leave again?”

“Sunday afternoon,” she said sadly, wishing she was staying for longer.

“Well, you’ll have to come back next year for the Grand Prix,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Maybe if I rob a bank!” she said with a chuckle, “One day.”

“I don’t like to boast, but I might know someone who can get you in without having to resort to organised crime,” he said, laughing with a deep rumble.

“Oh really?” Fernanda said, turning to face Toto in the inky moonlight, “Is he nice?”

“Very,” said Toto, dropping Fernanda’s hand and placing his hands on either side of her waist, swaying slightly in his merry state.

Laughing, Fernanda stretched up to look Toto in the eye, “I’ll have to meet this guy, he sounds great.”

At that their lips met, Toto bending down to plant a soft kiss on Fernanda’s lips, their height difference making it slightly a challenge but one that neither party seemed bothered by. As the kiss deepened, Toto began to run his hands down towards Fernanda’s perfectly rounded ass, squeezing gently as he found her curves.

Breaking apart for air, Fernanda glanced around, luckily there was no one in the empty street but she didn’t want to risk being caught making out in the street with a famous face and it being splashed across the tacky tabloids.

“Do you fancy a nightcap at mine?” she asked, looking up at Toto through her fluffy long lashes.

Toto’s eyes lit up, “Well, I have heard the view is nice.”

Fernanda laughed, grabbing Toto’s hand once again and leading him towards the corner entrance to her hotel. As they crossed the lobby she had a sudden panic that her friend Olivia was in their room, and as they made it into the elevator, sent a frantic text knowing her friends would still be awake, waiting for her post-date debrief.

Red alert, I’m bringing him back, please can you vacate?

Sure enough, the replies came back instantaneously.

Oh la la of course birthday girl!

Get it girl!

Knew it!!!!!

Smiling as Toto rested his hand on the small of her back in the elevator, Fernanda looked up at him before he once again swooped down to catch her lips with his.

The elevator dinged before things could get too heated but it didn’t stop Toto wrapping his arm tightly around Fernanda’s waist as the pair stumbled towards her room.

“Here we are,” she said, scrambling to find her keycard in her bag before popping open the door to unveil her suite. Thankfully her friends must have tidied for her as the detritus from getting ready for the evening was nowhere to be seen.

“Nice,” said Toto before bending down once again to continue kissing her, turning her around to face him as she closed the door. Pressing her against the wall with his leg, he continued to deepen the kiss, his hands starting to explore more of her body.

“As soon as I saw you I knew I had to have you,” he said, his lips resting against her ear, his deep Austrian accent rumbling.

Fernanda gulped, she never would have thought it but his voice roused something deep within. Her lips stretching up and finding the crevice of his neck, she replied in a low voice, “Then have me.”

Toto needed no invitation, scooping her up into his arms, he carried her over to the bed, throwing her down before leaning over and continuing to kiss her, his strong arms either side of her, pinning her down.

Emboldened by his eagerness, Fernanda wrapped her legs around his thick torso, pushing herself against him, not surprised to find a growing bulge. As he ground his hips into hers, he started to explore her curves with his large hands, ghosting her breasts and waist and reaching around to caress her ass once again.

Reaching up, Fernanda started to unbutton Toto’s shirt, exposing a surprisingly muscular frame. Impatient, he leaned up and divested himself of the shirt as well as the rest of his clothes, leaving him in nothing but boxers. Fernanda couldn’t help but smile at the view that greeted her as he once again lunged down to kiss her, this time, his hands making quick work of pulling her dress off, leaving her exposed in nothing but her lingerie and heels.

“You are ridiculous,” he said, his eyes hungry with desire, gazing into her eyes and gently kissing her neck.

“I could say the same about you,” replied Fernanda breathily, her back arching in pleasure as Toto kissed his way along her neck and across her collarbone.

Melting into each other’s arms, Fernanda began to grind back against his now prominent hardness, feeling herself getting more turned on by the second.

“Toto?” she asked, gasping for air, “Will you fuck me?”

Toto’s eyes lit up, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Smiling at each other, Toto reached down to unhook Fernanda’s bra, releasing her pert breasts, “Fuck, Fernanda.” he said, lifting his head to marvel at them, “Even better than I imagined.”

Fernanda blushed at his words, not used to such attention. Growing impatient she ghosted her hands down Toto’s abs, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers.

“You’re an impatient little thing aren’t you?” he said, leaning back suddenly and hooking his arms underneath Fernanda’s legs, gripping her thighs and bringing her closer. “I want to taste you first.”

Gulping Fernanda leant back, allowing Toto to bring his mouth to where she needed it most. As his tongue lapped gently, he brought his hand along and began to stroke her clit, slowly but sensually.

It wasn’t long before Fernanda was writhing in pleasure, tugging Toto’s dark locks as he pumped a finger in and out, continuing to expertly lick.

“Toto, I want you in me,” she said, seeing stars as she was so close.

Pausing his ministrations, Toto was more than happy to oblige, kissing his way back up her torso as he replied, “I want to do everything with you.”

At that, Fernanda melted, the evening had turned into one that was beyond her wildest dreams. As Toto swiftly undressed them both, she gazed into his intense chocolate eyes as he began to line himself up, unsurprisingly intimidatingly big.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he pushed in, slowly but surely. Gasping, Fernanda shifted as she adjusted to his size. True to his word, he took it easy and entered her tantalisingly slowly, an inch at a time.

“Fuck, Toto.” she said breathily, “You’re so big.”

Smiling, he pulled back out before pushing in once more, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Not at all, it feels good,” she said, feeling pleasantly stretched in places she’d never felt before.

“Good.” he said with a grin as he began to thrust in and out lazily, continuing to kiss her.

It wasn’t long before they were a tangled mess of arms and legs, both nearing completion. “Fuck, Toto, I am so close.” said Fernanda, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Close isn’t good enough,” said Toto, smirking as he reached down and found her clit once again, his thumb circling gently as he continued to push in and out, speeding up.

“That feels so go…” Fernanda couldn’t even finish her sentence as Toto hit the sweet spot with expert precision.

“Fernanda…” was all Toto managed as he thrust in and out a few more times, chasing his own high before collapsing on top of Fernanda.

“Ooff.” said Fernanda, crushed by the weight of the muscular man on top of her.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, flashing her a shy grin as he rolled off to lie beside her.

“Well… that was not how I expected my birthday to turn out.” said Fernanda, feeling like she was in a dream.

Toto laughed, stretching a strong arm across her stomach to pull her in for a cuddle. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left.”

Fernanda’s eyes widened once more. This was certainly a birthday to remember.

#toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x oc

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ym-loreposting · 3 months

Text

Analyzing the story books from Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask

The second half of Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask's second chapter takes place in the Reunion Inn, where the Masked Gentleman leads professor Layton on a goose chase to find him. During the search, the Gentleman uses books with childrens' stories in them to lead Layton from location to location through the inn. However, the stories serve as more than simple directions. According to the Gentleman himself, the books are also there to "provide a look into my world." So I thought it'd be fun to analyze the contents of these books and how they relate to the Masked Gentleman. Spoilers for Miracle Mask follow.

The Five Friends

A long time ago, there was a small kingdom surrounded by forest. Five friends who lived near a castle spent their time fishing in the river and playing in the lush, grassy fields. One day, they went exploring to the top of the tallest hill in the land. And there, they found a treasure of silver and gold! The friends divided the treasure between them, and four of them spent their riches through the years. But one friend decided to bury his share of the treasure in a fine place, surrounded by green and pleasing to the eye. He did this so he could go searching for treasure with his friends again. He did it so he would never forget the feeling of embarking on an adventure. He did it so the five friends would always have a reason to be together. The boy knew that people change when they grow up. When he finished burying his treasure, he fell asleep by a window, fully content and blanketed in the glow of the moonlight.

For those not in the know, the identity of the Masked Gentleman is Randall Ascot and as such this will be a major factor in the analysis. The first book seems to be about Randall's childhood and teenage years in Stansbury, with him representing the boy that buried his treasure. The other four friends likely represent Angela Ledore, Henry Ledore, Alphonse Dalston and Hershel Layton. With the former three, Randall used to go on adventures in childhood. Later, Alphonse grew distant from the friend group and Randall met Layton in his teenage years. In that time, he would go on archaeological adventures with Hershel, Angela and also Henry.

Randall is of course someone who loves adventure and spending time with his friends on those adventures. I don't think this story represents an actual event that Randall experienced in his childhood, but that it is more symbolic. The main purpose of this story seems to be Randall looking back at those halcyon days in Stansbury (coincidentally also the name for Stansbury's theme) and how much things have changed for the worse since then. In the story, it is mentioned the boy is aware that people change as they grow older and he buries his treasure so that they could always have a reason to be together. In the past, Randall and his friends were together and in the present, after they have grown up, the group has fallen apart. Alphonse was the first to do so, as he became more interested in making money and starting his own hotel business. Hershel went off to London to study archeology and would not speak with the others for 18 years. Angela and Henry remained together, but are at odds with Alphonse. In the present, Alphonse lives alone at the edge of Monte d'Or and suspects Angela is bitter at Henry for the accident Randall found himself in. The friend group has thus fallen apart, with Randall positioning himself as unique in the story. He is the only one who remembers the halcyon days and the only one who has valued friendship over literal treasure. Considering all of this, the ending of the story with the boy sleeping contently seems to be ironic on purpose or to emphasize the nearing end of the halcyon days.

The Boy and the Dog

One day, a young boy found a wild dog in the woods near his village. The dog was hurt, so the boy took him in. As the dog healed, he grew to trust the boy. The two grew up together and became very close with one another. One day, the boy packed up his belongings so that he could fulfill his dream of becoming a scholar. The dog was sad to see the boy go... The boy grew into a fine young man and became a famous scholar. When he returned, he was eager to show his family and his dog what he had made of himself. But when he arrived, he saw that his house was empty. The boy, all grown up, saw an old man pass by and asked him what had happened. The old man said that the family who lived in that house had been chased out years ago by a wild dog. And that's when the boy realized... He had been betrayed by the one he trusted the most. He now had no home and no family return to. With grief weighing heavy upon his heart, he disappeared into the woods, never to be seen again.

I think this story represents the moment Randall realized Stansbury had become a vacant ghost town after regained the memories he lost during his accident. Randall represents the boy and Henry represents the dog. In childhood and their teenage years, Randall and Henry had a bond of trust that Henry describes as brotherly later in Miracle Mask. This started when Randall gave one of his favorite toys, a robot, to Henry after Randall's maid tried to take it away from him because he was playing with it. I feel this event is paralleled in the story by the boy finding the dog in the woods and taking it in.

At some point, the boy leaves his dog behind to become a scholar and does not contact with his family for many years. This parallels Randall's 18 years living in Craggy Dale with amnesia. The boy coming home and seeing his family home destroyed, is paralleled by Randall regaining his memory and being brought to Stansbury, where he sees it destroyed. Per the words of Jean Descole in the Episode The Seeds of Revenge:

You witnessed it yourself. The Ascot heritage destroyed, and your hometown abandoned.

Several other characters in the game also mention how Stansbury is a ghost town in the present, like Gloria (Esther in the North American version), who used to live there. The old man in the story telling the boy about what the dog did to his family is likely a stand-in for Descole, who told Randall that Henry had taken everything from him and showed him the ruins of the vacant Stansbury. Thus, whereas the first story represents nostalgia for halcyon days, this second story represents a realization of betrayal of trust and the end of the halcyon days.

The Ungrateful Business Owner

Once there was a very poor man who lived in a lively town. The man had nothing, but he got by with the help of the townspeople. One day, the richest man in town took pity on him and bought the poor man a shop so that he could earn a living. The poor man ran a good business, and his shop thrived. His shop became known far and wide, and it grew into the most successful shop in town. Even the shops of the rich man who helped him could not compare. No longer poor, the man decided to buy all the food in town so that he could make a great profit. The trusting people sold him everything. The man then raised the prices until no one could afford to buy any food. The man then sold the food to people in other towns. The man had become so blinded by money that he forgot the debt he owed to those in his hometown. The town he had called home, once prosperous, began to decline. The man's fortunes grew as the townspeople starved. He built a palace in town. It was the largest palace ever built. And his wealth continued to grow each day. The townspeople had no choice but to leave their homes. And in time, the man was left alone in his empty kingdom. There, his vast loneliness, as open as the sea, swallowed him whole.

Instead of being about Randall, the third story is more about Henry. The poor man who gets a shop and later becomes rich is the stand-in for Henry, lifted up by the richest man in town. If I had to guess, this represents Randall's father, who was the richest man in Stansbury, deciding to train Henry up as a butler and giving him some opportunity. The middle part of the story represents the founding and growth of Monte d'Or as Stansbury becomes a ghost town. The poor man grows richer than the people who initially helped him, as Henry grew richer than the Ascot family after he found the Azran treasure in Akbadain and founded Monte d'Or. In Randall's view, Henry has become blinded by money and forgotten the debt he owes him, his father and his other friends. The business owner buying up all the food in town and reselling it at ridiculous prizes, before selling it to other towns, is likely a parallel to how Randall views Monte d'Or. He sees Henry as exploiting the people and tourists who come to the town, as many lose substantial sums in Henry's casinos, allowing him to grow richer. During the game this is mentioned a few times and best exemplified by the character Humbert. As he himself puts it in Chapter 5 as the Masked Gentleman:

YOUR city, hmm? Is that what you think? Though I suppose... Yes, this foul pit of greed and tawdry thrills does reflect its creator perfectly. You built this city as a monument to your grotesquely swollen ego.

The end of the story then represents the future that Randall is working towards: revenge on Henry. After his supposed greed has driven everyone away, he will be swallowed whole by his loneliness. The Masked Gentleman's final miracle involves burying Monte d'Or in sand, which is likely what this part of the story is representative of.

The Traiterous Regent

There was once a kindhearted princess in a kingdom in the valley. This princess was so beautiful that suitors camped outside the castle for months to gain an audience with her. And then one day, the princess saw a young knight pass by her window... The princess fell in love with him at first sight and they were married. The knight was named king and the princess named queen. One day, the king and his minister set out for the mountains to slay a dragon that threatened the kingdom. The princess waited for her king to return. She waited and waited but only the minister returned with news that her king had died. The minister did everything he could to comfort the princess in her grief. He comforted her night and day. After many moons of grief, the minister's kindness and patience finally reached the princess's heart. The princess's feelings for the minster blossomed into love, and she married him in a lavish, royal wedding. It seemed that here the audience sat, rapt with attention, eager to bear witness to the final miracle of love. No one knew that the minister actually tricked the king into searching for the dragon and then trapped him in the cave. The minster now had the princess, the crown, and the country. But then... The king awoke, trapped under a pile of rubble. The minister to whom he had entrusted his life was gone. The king used every last ounce of his strength to clear away the rocks and made his way back to the surface. And when he finally escaped... He saw the minister living happily with the princess as husband and wife.

The last story, the Traiterous Regent, is perhaps the easiest to analyze as it is the most overt with its parallels. The knight turned king represents Randall, the minister represents Henry and the princess represents Angela. This last point is made extra clear by how the princess physically resembles Angela in the picture accompanying the story and how men vied for the princess, with multiple people also looking to marry Angela (Randall, Alphonse and supposedly Henry). Whereas the story about the business owner was (partially) about Henry stealing Randall's wealth, this one is more about Henry's "theft" of Angela, the woman that Randall loved and wanted to ask her hand in marriage after coming back from Akbadain. The minister arranging for the cave to collapse represents the idea that Descole planted in Randall's head: Henry deliberately wanted Randall to go on the dangerous expedition to Akbadain so he would disappear and so Henry could steal everything.

The king waking up from under the rubble and fighting himself free, only to return to the minster and princess marries, represents Randall leaving Craggy Dale and coming to Monte d'Or, where he finds Henry and Angela married.

It might also be interesting to note that the minister could also represent professor Layton to a degree. It was him who accompanied Randall to Akbadain and he was there when Randall's accident occurred. While we are never given indication that Randall suspects that professor Layton was in on Henry's supposed plot, he obviously does feel resentment towards him for not saving him from his fall and for supposedly not upholding his promise to solve Akbadain's final puzzle. This is made most clear where Randall captures Luke and dangles him high in the Reunion Inn, challenging Layton to save him and recreating the circumstances around the accident in Akbadain. Randall even says as such:

Is it true, Layton? I've heard you have a history of letting your friends down.

Conclusion

The four story books thus each represent a different facet of the betrayal that Randall feels: from nostalgia for his halcyon days, to the shock of finding out about the "betrayal", to resentment over Henry not honoring his debt to resentment over Henry "stealing" Angela. The stories are noticeably from Randall's perspective, as they portray him as the victim and leave out how his own recklessness and lust for adventure and glory led to his accident as well, though he does come to his senses by the end of the game.

#professor layton #randall ascot #masked gentleman #miracle mask #miracle mask spoilers

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nitewrighter · 2 years

Note

Prompt: The hero opens up their front door to find their nemesis, bloody and hunched in pain, on their doorstep. "Please," the villain says. "I... need your help." Then they collapse.

I've actually gotten this prompt before...

But I could expand on it a bit for one of my rivalmance couples.

I realized this ficlet could be read as a semi-trilogy, followed by this ficlet, and then (possibly?) this ficlet.

---

A salty breeze cooled the back of Samir's neck as he perched on the hotel room balcony, peering through hard-light binoculars on the streets below, his sights trailing away at the movement of different vehicles, but still trailing back to the Monte Carlo. Monaco glowed orange, ivory, and gold on the late-spring night. No movement out of the casino. He slumped back in his seat, a bit disappointed. He had a hunch--and he was very good at hunches, in that his hunches were usually about 68% backed up by hard evidence and observable patterns, and he had even managed to secure the hacks necessary for this vantage point from Marti for this mission, as well as a small hacked mission expense account that had kept him in more comfort than other times. Preliminary investigations hinted at some kind of upheaval in Talon, but it wasn’t clear what yet. Just all signs pointed here, and here he was, watching, and feeling more foolish than he’d like. He was just weighing how he would infiltrate the casino when the knock came.

The knock that came was uneven but insistent. Not the short disciplined knock of housekeeping or room service, and he certainly didn't order either. He materialized a short blade of hard light at his wrist as he approached the door, easy to jam in the throat, quickly stifle a yell, but he opened the door to see a familiar bob of champagne-blonde hair.

"Hey. I need to use your phone," was all Faustine said. Her voice was thick, slurring, and she was wrapped up in a beige trench coat she hadn't really seen fit to button or belt, but was instead clasping shut with one hand.

Samir's eyes flicked down to the pair of scuffed Laboutins hanging loosely in her hooked fingers.

"...are you drunk?" the words slipped out of him with a bit of a 'come on' sense of incredulity, like 'you're better than this,' and a half-formed fully-mad fantasy of her throwing off the overcoat to reveal some very impractical lingerie (she was better than that, too, he had to remind himself), but then the smell of exhaust and smoke hit his nostrils, and his eyes kept trailing down, and his ears heard the soft thip thip thip of blood dripping on the floor, before his eyes fell on that blood dampening the carpet next to her sheer black stockinged-toes. "Oh fuck--" he started.

Faustine kept her other hand clasping the coat shut and she slumped one shoulder on the doorway half out of blood loss and half to keep him from closing the door. "I just need to use your phone," she said again, eyelashes fluttering slightly asynchronously, shifting her shoulder slightly. A bag was bulging at her... probably not bleeding side? It was hard to tell by the way she was swaying. "I could use the one at the desk but yours are encrypted and I found out you were staying here from glancing though the concierge's--"

"Get in here--" he grabbed the shoulder of her coat and she stumble-slumped against him as he closed the door behind her. She dropped the bag on the floor with a metallic thud as he tried to stabilize her by the shoulders. The coat was too big for her--not her coat--used to cover the wounds? The neuroprosthetic nodes at her cheekbones were a dull maroon rather than their usual ruby red.

"Juss... need your phone..." she said vaguely. He yanked the coat off of her and her fingers released it easily, but she mumbled, "Handsy..." as the coat fell in a heap at the floor and he gripped the outsides of her arms to look at a dark red stain seeping through nearly half of her floral tea dress.

"Fuck," he said again.

"Right?" she said, her head lolling slightly, "I mean it's a Feretti original... fuggin waste--whoop--"

He scooped her up at this point, mostly to keep her from dripping blood all over his fucking hotel room and carried her to the bathroom. He wasn't sure if she was so light because of all the adrenaline now prickling through his system or because of the blood loss, but he didn't like it either way. She left bloodstains on his shirt as he lowered her into the tub.

"God, here you go again--I literally just need your phone--" she muttered as he laid her down in the bathtub. He briskly walked out of the bathroom. "Don't bother getting ice! Your stupid team can't have my kidneys!" she yelled after him as he half-tripped over her bag and swore again. "Kidney...?" her voice was slightly muffled then, the chin-tucked into her collarbone voice like she was finally, finally, looking at her own severely bleeding wound. Samir glanced down at an all-too-familiar metallic dome peeking out of of the bag.

"Foss, why is your dad's head in a bag?!" Samir pivoted to face the bathroom door.

"Adoptive robot dad," Faustine held up a finger as if that was an important point to make.

Oh fuck she's in shock, he thought but the words that came out of him next were a dumb, "Foss--what happened--?"

"He'll be fiiiine I just gotta... plug him in somewhere..." her voice was getting vague again. She had now perched both elbows on the sides of the tub like she was taking a luxurious bubble bath.

"Oh my god, Foss, put pressure on your wound!" Samir snapped, hurrying over to the mini-fridge and feverishly yanking all of the filtered water bottles and the miniature vodka bottles out of the mini-bar.

"Don't you 'Foss' me! All I'm asking for is a--a fossin' phone, I have it handled, obviously!" Faustine slurred back from the bathroom.

“Have what handled?” said Samir, nearly dropping the tiny bottles.

“Just... some internal disagreements...” Faustine said airily, “’s...handled...”

He came back into the bathroom with the bottles gripped between his knuckles and the water bottles in his arms, and the single biotic field distributor he had packed in his bag, which wouldn’t be enough. He quickly washed his hands in the sink. “Hold still,” he said. She hadn’t really bothered to move in the tub at all. You're panicking, was all he was thinking, You didn't even assess the injury-- should you be assessing the injury? What the fuck kind of question is that--the hippocratic oath exists, doesn't it? I mean it’s not like medic is the same as doctor--- He set down the biotic field. It could stabilize her--it had to.

"Whuzzat--?" Faustine's eyelids were uneven again, "Can I have your phone now?"

"Hey--" he cupped a hand to her cheek, "Stay awake."

The contact seemed to rouse her slightly. She slumped her head slightly, her eyes crinkling a little at the touch. That sly smile pulled at her features.

"I couldn't believe you were here-- you're so obsessed with me," Faustine lolled her head so that her cheek was smushing against his palm, "So fuckin'... dumb..."

"I signed in under an alias," Samir said, pulling his hand back before ripping her dress to expose the wound in all of its bloody glory. “Shit...”

It wasn’t a bullet wound, it was ragged, that along with the smell indicated it was more likely the result of some kind of... vehicular incident? But she was the best driver he knew. It drove him crazy that she was the best driver he knew--If she was running from something... But there were raised black lines around the wound site that made themselves more apparent as he flushed the wound. The neuroprosthetics--some kind of stabilization and repair protocol? The wound was big but it seemed mercifully shallow with regard to her internal organs. Still... his eyes flicked over the neuroprosthetics trailing down the interior of her arms. There was something terrifying about this. The power Faustine wielded was never really about physicality, it was more similar to her neuroprosthetics--a light and delicate thing, able to take over vast systems with frightening strength and precision--seeing her as a bloody mess in a bathtub made his stomach tighten.

"Yeah but it's obvious when it's you," Faustine rolled her head back against the back of the bath, huffing out a hard exhale as he flushed the wound, "I mean... you have to do better than anagrams of your dweeby little detective heroes."

"Now who's obsessed?" said Samir, “Okay this is going to sting---”

"What was your cover story?" the delirium lent a ripple of a laugh to Faustine's voice before she groaned through her teeth as he poured vodka over the wound. “Was it the MBC Conference? Ha--” she huffed out a breath at the contact of the vodka, “Of course it was the fucking conference--” she said, squeezing her eyes shut, “You can do so much better than techbro bandwagoner but at least there’s a crowd to blend in with--”

“Can we go back to that ‘internal conflicts’ thing--?”

“So nosy--fff-nngh--” she winced at the burn of alcohol, her head cringing into her shoulder.

“Do you have a personal biofeed?” Samir’s head jerked up.

“Oh, like I would let you--” Faustine started but Samir’s eyes fell on a delicate watch at her wrist and he seized it. He showed her her own wrist. “You can unlock it. I won’t backdoor your security protocols.”

She snorted. “Backdoor,” she repeated the word with a giggle and then winced hard at her own wound exacerbated by her giggle.

“Foss,” Samir said insistently.

“Voicelock protocol--open biofeed readings--” Faustine said tautly. Her watch lit up and Samir scanned all the medical information on display.

“No organ perforation,” he said with an exhale.

“I could’ve told you that!” Faustine blurted out.

“Because I can trust the word of a blood-loss-delirious sociopath,” said Samir, firing up his hard light projector.

“They haven’t come up with a term for me yet, don’t throw sociopaths under the bus,” Faustine rolled her eyes, “Aren’t you supposed to be the hero?”

“I’m supposed to be the buzzkill asshole the heroes tolerate and probably also think is a sociopath,” said Samir, pivoting his wrist as he materialized a surgical stapler.

Faustine snorted again. “No, they adore you. You don’t know what a toxic work environment looks like.”

“...‘Internal disagreements?’” Samir raised an eyebrow.

“80% of them are either incompetents or fucking animals...” Faustine said distantly, not looking at him. Her eyes flicked back to the hard-light surgical stapler now in his hands. “Oh you are not going to--”

“Grandma gave me medic training---”

“With hard-light?!”

“Hard-light is naturally sterile!”

“Oh I bet you tell all the girls that,” said Faustine. She paused. “or guys.”

“And guys,” Samir shrugged, squinting at her wound.

“And guys!” she repeated, impressed, before grunting out a guttural “GWUH” as he stapled shut the first centimeter of the wound. “A little warning next time?!” she blurted out.

“Little warning,” said Samir before stapling the next centimeter shut.

“Oh fuck you, Amari--Nngh!” Samir stapled another centimeter shut.

“I wish that was why you showed up at my hotel room and not this,” Samir stapled another centimeter shut.

“ARNGH” Faustine clenched her teeth.

“But here we are!” said Samir, throwing his non-medical-stapler-holding hand up.

“Ha!” Faustine forced an agonized, snarling laugh through her teeth, “I knew you wanted me. You act all cool and detached but deep down you---” he stapled another centimeter, “FUCKING SHIT--!”

“Just two more and I can probably come up with a hard-light graft for the rest...” Samir mused.

“Cunt--fucking--cazzo--fucking--morceau du merde--“

“Hey--” Samir cupped a hand to her cheek again, this time smearing her own blood on the side of her face. “We’re almost though this.”

“You’re having fun with this,” she pulled her lips back from her teeth.

“I don’t like hurting you more than you’d ask me to, no,” said Samir. The wording made her redden and thin her lips--or at least redden as much as she could with all the blood she already lost. “However--” He stapled another centimeter shut.

“Cazzo--!” the swear left her as more of an exhale and an afterthought in the haze of all the previous pain.

“If it means stopping you from bleeding out, I won’t hesitate.” said Samir.

“So chivalrous--ffuck!” she felt the pinch of the last staple, and was left breathing ragged as all the previous pain gently surged up and over her like the rising tide after a massive crashing wave. Samir was leaning against the tub, carefully crafting a hard-light skin graft, only looking back to make sure his mental measurements were on point.

“...you were pissing me off on purpose, weren’t you?” said Faustine.

“I figured you wouldn’t pass out so long as you needed to get the last word in,” Samir smiled over his shoulder before leaning over the lip of the tub to apply the graft. She watched his lean, strong fingers carefully laying it flat. The first contact of hard-light with the open wound was the cruel pincers of the medical staples, but this... there was the faint sensation of holding one’s hand to a plasma ball--albeit with a painful, previously profusely bleeding flesh wound. Her breath stilled in her throat before she puffed it out as the graft materialized. They both sat in silence for a few seconds. She was still dangerously pastier than usual, but amidst all the exhaustion, her sharpness seemed to be resurfacing, eyes assessing between her own wound, the tear in her dress, all the pink and red streaking the sides of the tub. The glow of the biotic field had faded now.

“Samir?” she said.

He visibly stiffened at the use of his name--not ‘Detective’ or ‘Amari’...just his name.

“What is this?” she asked.

“What is what?” he glanced up at her.

“Us--this.. whole... thing,” she fixed those purple eyes on him, some color returning to the neuroprosthetic nodes on her cheeks, though they were more garnets than rubies, now.

“We’re just... both the logistics guys,” said Samir a bit hesitantly.

“Are you seriously calling our fucked up hypsersexual blood pact ‘both the logistics guys?’” Faustine tried to prop herself up better in the bathtub but ended up maintaining her position due to the slipperiness of her own blood, her brow furrowing in pain. Samir offered her a hand and helped her sit up a bit more.

“You called it a fucked up hypersexual blood pact first,” said Samir in warning, “I feel like you’re violating the fucked up hypersexual blood pact by coming to me for help though.”

“And you’re violating it by actually helping me,” said Faustine with a slight bob of her head.

“I’m helping you because it’s the right thing to do,” said Samir on reflex.

Faustine gave him a steady side-eye.

“Seriously,” said Samir.

Faustine maintained the side-eye while tilting her head a little.

“It is!” Samir said insistently.

She just maintained the eye contact.

“And--you--” Samir huffed through his teeth, “You’re one of the only people who can bring out... every part of me... and every part of me is needed, every part of me... can...” he trailed off, “I can’t say what we have. Because I feel like if I outline it, then it’s just admitting how unfair it is to everyone around us. I don’t want the conflict to last--no one does--but... ” he couldn’t bring himself to say the last part, I don’t know what I would do without you, because it wasn’t true, he knew he would still be fighting, he didn’t have a choice in that regard until the fight was over, but fighting without knowing she was grinning that infuriating grin in the glow of Talon monitors in some dark room somewhere...

“...Papa set me up on a date last week,” Faustine said wanly.

Samir perked up. It was almost a flinch.

“He was a senator’s son--great for Talon’s weapons manufacturing and smuggling--you know how the Americans like their guns--he’s currently just an assistant, but... you know how it is... nepotistic golden boy... usable, powerful, but not a threat, excellent leverage to multiple sources, everything Talon could want and Papa basically trussed him up on a silver platter for me.” She glanced down. “He wasn’t even that bad, personality-wise... funny.. charming...” she trailed off, “But he wasn’t you.” She looked at Samir. “I didn’t want to sink my teeth into him.” She broke eye contact, “I ended the night with a fucking handshake. A handshake!” She laughed a little before looking back at Samir. “That was stupid, right?”

Samir couldn’t deny the flicker of jealousy that flared up in him as he imagined the scene. Of course Faustine could charm the pants off of someone like that--fucking Americans--it wasn’t like Nascar was anything like Formula One, but obviously some hick senator’s son would hit her with a stupid anecdote about it once he found out she raced, and she would laugh that glittering prosecco laugh and it would all be fucking over for Nepotistic Golden Boy. Stupid lovestruck grins and all. And of course Talon would love to position her as some kind of disability rights Jackie O to give Ogundimu Prosthetics an even better spotlight as they funded this campaign here and blackmailed that candidate there. Samir tried to keep his features masked as he imagined this scenario but that last, ‘That was stupid, right?’ struck him. It wasn’t about feelings, for her, it was about power, it was about security and... she gave that up. Because... she wanted to bite him??

“I don’t know,” Samir replied a bit dumbly, “I just think... there’s a limit to how much of yourself you should give to a cause, and if.. you’re at that point... well you’re at a point where the people you’re working for don’t think you have any limits. And... maybe that’s the person everyone wants to be for a while, but it’s nothing anyone can sustain.”

Faustine weighed his words carefully. “You know you could say, ‘If he laid a hand on you I’d tear him apart.’”

“I don’t want to tear anyone apart!” Samir blurted out with a bit of faux-defensiveness. He didn’t want to say, ‘I don’t consider him an actual threat’ because it was fun pissing off Faustine off in acting less jealous than he actually was.

“God you’re always so interesting right up to the part where you’re boring,” Faustine sighed.

“I mean he sounds like a... nice-ish guy. Probably dumb--”

“So dumb...” Faustine huffed.

“But ‘Dumb’ is relative. Case in point: You’re here right now.”

Faustine chuckled a little, then winced at her injuries.

“You’re not going to tell me what happened, are you?” said Samir.

“Explosion, grabbing your dad’s head out of the wreckage, pushing your own wrecked car into the harbor,” she pressed her hand over her face, “God the deposit on that thing... limping away from the scene, stealing a coat out of the coatroom here... not much to tell...” Faustine said vaguely.

Samir pushed himself up from the tiles of the bathroom floor, then sat on the toilet next to the tub. “How soon until they track you down?”

“Papa’s body is mangled enough so that they’ll probably be assuming we’re both dead for at least another few hours,” her eyes trailed to the bag, visible in the bathroom’s doorway, “I could reactivate the head, probably. He might have some contingencies I’ll be able to access. I think the primary AI Core is still intact. But if they have some means of tracking his Omnicode networking signature...” she trailed off. She was already considering either destroying it or maybe tossing it into the harbor, too. “What about your team? How long have they been listening?”

“...they haven’t.” Faustine’s blood was making his shirt stick to him uncomfortably at this point and he pulled the shirt off. There were still a few pink streaks on his tank top underneath from where the blood stained through.

Faustine squinted at him for a few seconds, scanning his face for deception, then raised her eyebrows slightly, “Naughty,” she said with a catlike smile.

“Well, this could still all be an elaborate trap, I’d rather be the only one who falls into it, if that’s the case,” said Samir, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Oh god you know how I love carrying my dad’s head around in a bag while bleeding out, it’s the most irresistible bait,” Faustine rolled her eyes a bit.

“Wouldn’t be the first time Talon played the long game with a damsel in distress,” Samir shrugged.

The look of absolute egregious insult that came over Faustine’s face at the suggestion was bone-chilling, but still... admittedly, funny. “You’re the damsel,” she muttered, glancing off before suddenly saying, “You know what? I can find an encrypted phone somewhere else, I just nee--fuck--!” she moved to try and get up before her face pinched in pain and she settled into the tub. She took a very angry inhale through the nostrils, not looking at him, but that anger only barely veiling her racing thoughts.

“...we could protect you, you know,” Samir floated the suggestion, “I mean, obviously we’d want information in return but...”

“I have my own contingencies. I can take care of myself,” said Faustine still not looking at him.

“Of course,” said Samir, sitting up slightly.

“...but... I still need to borrow that phone. Not now, just...” she trailed off, “I need to think.” She looked past Samir at Maximilien’s head just barely peeking out of the bag. Samir was a bit glad they couldn’t see the omnic’s eyes.

“I get it.”

“...I’ll need pants later, too,” Faustine muttered, looking down at herself.

“Unfortunately all the clothes I brought are for my cover story of ‘Bandwagoner Techbro,’” said Samir with a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“God, you just love torturing me, don’t you, Amari?” Faustine let her head flop back against the tub again.

“Well, if it means you not dying,” Samir shrugged, picking up one of the miniature vodka bottles from the tile floor and handing her one. He opened one for himself.

“To not dying,” said Faustine, languidly extending her arm.

“Not dying,” said Samir. They clinked the tiny bottles together.

#faumir #if I had a nickel for every AU fic that involves pouring vodka on an open wound I'd have two nickels #which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice #although the first one *was* for a bullet wound

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rafasbiscuits · 1 year

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thank u sm @tam-is-blogging for the tag, love u sm, I love this kind of stuff 😘

Rules: answer 10 questions and tag 10 people you want to know better.

Relationship status: single

Favourite colour: black, white, grey, gold, dark green

Three favourite foods: macarons, ice cream never goes wrong and er idk I'm not really a big eater, don't have a big appetite either

Song stuck in my head: nothing, my head is too full of exams

Last thing I listened to: just car things

Last thing I googled: Monte Carlo Masters 2023

Time: 9:15 am

Dream trip: Somewhere with northern lights(I want to see it so baddd), Norway, Denmark, etc.

Anything I really want: first and foremost, Rafa to win RG this year, no more injuries please and not retire this year. pls. Sergio Ramos to come back to Madrid soon, to be academically improved, I want 8O's for my O Levels sm please please please. Man United go and win Europa League, Real Madrid win UCL, Toni Kroos and Luka Modric to renew their contract 🫶 And to understand Biology and Chemistry better cause my god I'm not..so good. To get a stable job with pay that is stable too, and to not live that long cause I'm so tired of life. Take me away.

Currently reading: 1984 and Crime and Punishment

Last Song: Calm down by Selena Gomez and Rema

Last Movie: 10 Things I Hate About You

Last series: You

Sweet, savoury or spicy: none

Currently working on: my research for English O Level Orals this Monday😭

Craving: nothing

Tea or coffee: TEA. TEA. TEA. (specifically earl grey tea, my favv)

Tagging: @giselletalksfooty @sebandlewis @sergio-para-siempre @thefrootloopman @kingfisherprince @xenchan @dillo-alla-luna @charlitosalcaraz @juancarlosferrero @thesunshinehoneyusstuff

And tagging anyone who wants to do this, feel free to ignore <3

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casspurrjoybell-22 · 2 months

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Dream Eater - Chapter 14 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

With nothing else to do, I explore the cell.

It doesn't take long.

It's a small rectangular space about three paces deep and two wide.

The walls and floor are made of uneven stone and covered with a damp slime that smells like the ooze at the bottom of a pond.

There's nothing to sit down on and the only light is a faint line of grey around the edges of the door.

I quickly grow bored.

I count the rocks in the wall and it occurs to me that maybe I'll get lucky like Edmond Dantes in The Count of Monte Cristo and meet another prisoner with a pre-formed escape plan.

"Hello?" I call, leaning against the faint line of grey marking the crack between the wall and the door.

I haven't heard anything to indicate I'm not alone down here but it's worth a shot.

I quickly regret my audacity.

A cacophony of hideous sounds rises up like a swarm of locusts, doubling and redoubling in intensity as the echoes build.

Screams, cries for help, insane laughter, pleas for mercy or death and a host of inhuman shrieks assault my ears and I end up huddled in a corner with my hands pressed against the sides of my head trying to block out the noise.

When silence returns, I've been crouching in the corner for so long that I'm stiff and shaking with cold as I finally get to my feet.

I don't know which realm of Hell this is but it's clearly not one of the hot ones.

This place is freezing.

I pace to keep myself warm but eventually, I tire.

The cold eats at me as much as the hunger and thirst and pretty soon I'm about as miserable as Azael no doubt hopes.

It's actually worse knowing that someone will come for me.

If I thought Azael had left me here to die, I could at least fall into a hopeless stupor.

Knowing that he has other plans makes every second of waiting seem like an age.

I've just gotten to the stage of thirst where I'm ready to lick the smelly damp walls for moisture when the guards return.

After so long in the dark, I'm blinded by the light that spills in through the door when it opens.

I'm too cold, stiff and weak with hunger to walk but the guards are very adept at dragging me along at this point and have me back up all those stairways and corridors in no time.

They don't seem like the same guys as before but I can't tell because they're wearing cloth face masks and they don't speak.

They dump me in a small room and other hands grab me and dunk me in a basin of hot water, where I'm scrubbed clean with the kind of force usually reserved for barbecue grills and tile grout.

When they finish I'm not sure how many layers of skin I've lost but at least I no longer smell.

They give me a sort of long bathrobe thing to wear and then they give me water and food.

It's not good food... in fact, it's a bland gruel that I'd find disgusting if I wasn't starving but it's food nonetheless.

Finally, the guards return for another round of marching and stair climbing.

By the time we reach our destination, it feels like I've summited Everest without oxygen and I can barely breathe.

They drag me through a set of grandiose doors into a series of rooms that can only belong to Azael.

I have an impression of excessive wealth... silks and gold, cushions, carpets, paintings and tapestries and then I'm pushed into a slightly smaller chamber.

It looks like a combined living and sleeping area, with a bed the size of a small barge.

"Hold him," says one guard and the other obliges.

It's not so I don't struggle, I realize... it's so I don't collapse.

The other guard fastens a collar around my neck attached to a heavy chain, the other end of which is bolted to the wall.

"Oh wait... I've seen this movie," I gasp weakly.

"Now you're gonna make me dance for the giant slug, right? Please don't make me wear the weird bikini dress though... I don't think I have the figure for it."

The guard holding me up shoves me into a pile of cushions on the floor.

"You'll wear whatever Lord Azael tells you to wear," he says.

The other leers.

"Maybe once his lordship's had his fun, he'll give us the leftovers, eh?"

They leave laughing.

I give the chain a half-hearted tug.

Unsurprisingly, it stays firmly affixed to the wall.

After that, I'm too exhausted to do anything but curl up in the cushions and fall asleep.

I wake to the uncomfortable sensation of someone watching me.

Azael sits on the edge of his massive bed, staring down at me with an oddly thoughtful look.

When he sees I'm awake, he stands.

"Well, dream-eater, did you have a pleasant stay in my dungeon?"

I grin up at him defiantly.

"Oh yeah, I especially loved the smell. I'm really gonna miss it."

He laughs.

"If you fail to cooperate, you will enjoy it again soon enough."

I see he's holding the end of the chain in his hand, and he starts to pull... not hard but slow and steady, drawing me towards him.

I try to dig in my heels but I might as well be fighting a freight train.

When I'm before him, he forces me to kneel.

"Don't fight me, Alex and I won't hurt you," he says.

"Just do as I ask."

"Yeah? And what do you want?" I return through gritted teeth.

"I want you to see my dreams. I want you to understand."

"That's all?"

He looks down at me with an amused smirk.

"For now."

"Fine."

"Good," he nods and pulls me back to my feet.

Then he stretches out on the bed and lays back.

Reluctantly I follow, lying as far from him as I can.

The chain rests in a coil between us like a heavy snake.

Clearly he hasn't seen many movies because I'm totally planning to strangle him with it as soon as he's asleep.

Then again, maybe he has.

He wraps the chain around his fist and gives me only enough length to keep a small space between us.

"Now, you will not only see the truth but feel it as well," he says

and closes his eyes. I don't think I'm going to be able to fall asleep next to a guy who wants to do horrible things to me and destroy the world, not to mention murdered me in a past life but somehow I do.

And then I dream.

The first emotion I feel catches me by surprise.

It's love and it's directed at the angelic woman standing before me in the midst of a glorious white garden bathed in the light of twin moons.

"Have you considered my proposal, Astoreth?" I ask with Azael's voice.

She 'tall, golden-skinned and golden-haired' responds with a voice like music.

"I have, Azael. I think it is a fair and wise choice."

I embrace her.

"We will rule together over all things... just you and I."

She replies with a kiss that tastes like tears.

Then I'm in another place, standing before a stone arch like the one I saw in Damien's dreams.

A young girl approaches it and a sense of dread begins a slow crescendo in my heart.

She stops and looks back.

Tears glitter in her eyes.

"Astoreth, are you certain she will be alright?" I ask.

"Of course, my love. Do you think I would risk our daughter's life otherwise?"

She approaches the girl and leans down to speak in her ear.

"Don't be afraid, darling," she says.

"It won't hurt. Just picture the Door you want to open, imagine what lies beyond and step through."

The girl... the Key... nods and walks forward again.

She hesitates one last time, then steps through the arch.

She screams and then she's gone.

Where she stood, a doorway opens.

What's beyond it is hidden by a blinding light.

"Astoreth... where is Isha? What happened to her?" my voice... Azael's voice... is strained with fear.

"She's safe now, Azael. Do not fret."

She steps towards the doorway, then turns back and I see something different on her face.

She makes a gesture and I feel my arms gripped by hands like iron.

"Astoreth... what are you doing?" I ask, unwilling to believe.

"What have you done?"

"There can only be one Throne, Azael and you are not fit for it. It is a seat of balance... of neither shadow nor light. You are too inclined towards the extremes of each and too easily led by your heart. The throne demands an impartial mind. I'm sorry but I did what had to be done. This is goodbye."

She takes one more step and is gone.

The Door closes and my heart... Azael's heart... breaks like shattered crystal, the pieces lodging like shrapnel in body and soul.

And then comes the hate.

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bizworldinsights · 3 months

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Apple Juice

The global Apple Juice market is anticipated to surpass a valuation of US$ 13,932 million in 2019, demonstrating a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 2.3%, creating lucrative market opportunities for industry players. The average annual per capita consumption is recorded at 0.7 liters in 2019, with a significant concentration of consumption in developed regions and South Asia. The surging awareness of health benefits associated with apple juice, such as cholesterol control, weight management, and diabetes risk reduction, is a key factor propelling global sales.

To read more about the topic please visit site: https://bekryl.com/industry-trends/apple-juice-market-share-analysis

The industry landscape is characterized by the presence of numerous small-scale players operating locally, benefitting from lower operational costs and extended shelf life. Despite this, the market has become hyper-competitive over the last decade.

Key Trends and Factors Shaping the Global Apple Juice Market:

Product Innovation:

Product innovation is a prominent trend in the apple juice concentrate market, exemplified by Coca-Cola India's introduction of Minute Maid Apple Sparkle with 25% apple juice content.

Companies are investing in product innovation strategies to strengthen market share, as seen in Coca-Cola's ventures in India and Africa.

Growth of Organic Apple Juice:

Organic apple juice is expected to witness the fastest growth, driven by its perceived nutritional benefits, lower sugar content, and minimal processing.

The trend towards organic options, like Capri Sun Organic by The Kraft Heinz Company, indicates a growing demand for minimally processed, natural-flavored fruit juices.

Personalization Trend:

The industry is embracing personalization, with consumers increasingly concerned about checking ingredients before making a purchase.

Personalized juices and juice fortification are gaining popularity, reflecting the evolving preferences of consumers based on individual demand.

In-House Consumption Dominates:

In-house consumption accounts for a substantial 86% of total apple juice sales, showcasing the popularity of this beverage for personal use.

However, the rise of 'superfruit mixes' incorporating tropical fruits, berries, and coconut poses a potential challenge to standalone apple juice products, although the impact is expected to be minimal.

Global Apple Juice Market Size Analysis and Industry Opportunity: By Region

North America:

Valued over US$ 5,719 million in 2018, North America is the second-largest producer of apples globally, importing apples to meet internal demand.

Western Europe:

Germany is a lucrative market in Western Europe, contributing 41% to the apple juice market in 2018 and boasting the highest per capita consumption globally.

Asia Pacific:

China is a key player in the Asia Pacific market, being both the leading consumer and one of the largest exporters of apple juice globally, producing over 610 thousand tonnes annually.

Global Apple Juice Market Size and Forecast: Competition Landscape

Some key players in the Apple Juice market include:

The Kraft Heinz Company

The Coca-Cola Company

Del Monte Food, Inc.

Tree Top Inc.

White House Company

Britvic Plc

Solana Gold Organics

Parle Agro Pvt Ltd

Manzana Products Co.

Eden Foods Inc.

Research Scope:

By Product Type:

Organic

Conventional

By Distribution Pattern:

On Trade

Off-trade

Hypermarkets

Supermarkets

Convenience Stores

Retailors

General Stores

Others

The global Apple Juice market is poised for growth, driven by health awareness, product innovation, and the increasing popularity of organic options. Industry players are strategically navigating the competitive landscape to capitalize on emerging trends and consumer preferences.

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forbidden-creepypasta · 6 months

Text

Breakdown

Honestly don't think it's developed or good enough for the main site, but if you feel otherwise, go ahead and use it.

This is NOT my Halloween contest submission. I was working on this before that was announced.... it just happens to be on Halloween night. I hope you guys like it.... I don't think it came out that well. If you have any input or plot-twist ideas to make it better please let me know.

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For Randy, Halloween night was never about the costumes, the candy, getting belligerent under the influence of various substances, or attractive women with an excuse to dress in ways that would be considered anything less than downright promiscuous on any other date or time. Getting laid was a plus, of course, but only a side bonus.

No, rather, Halloween was about the music. There was always a kick-ass concert on Halloween night, depending on how far you were willing to travel. In the past ten years, he'd been to some great shows, but Metallica had taken the gold by far. They were closing with "Ride the Lightning," now, after a roar from the crowd demanding an encore after a good three hours of massive, fast-paced shredding. He'd brought two lighters this time, instead of one. He was hopped up, completely engrossed in their performance; the pounding hit of Lars Ulrich's bass drum rocked his innards to the very core, and James Hetfield's raspy voice was like hot chocolate to his ears. He was almost upset that it was over. Almost. The only downside is that his shoulder was itching badly.... the scar, it had never quite healed up completely.

He lost himself in the music, but he wasn't like the others. It wasn't the sound itself, or the euphoria and testosterone that got flowing when he heard some good heavy riffs. He saw things in his mind that were indescribable. They were amazing, vivid dreams that seemed real, happening in real-time.... an escape from his normal, miserable existence in to a mental paradise. It was the perfect getaway, and he'd always had the ability, since he got the scar when he was ten.

He had to be at work the next morning, and so as the thousands of people crowded out of the venue that had been the site of the most glorious rock concert he'd ever witnessed, he finally got his car out of the parking lot and on to the highway about ninety minutes later. He had a four hour drive ahead of him.

He thumped the dashboard with his index finger, tapping the rhythm to the live recorded CD he'd purchased of the show on his way out.

"Take my hand..... off to never never land...."

He'd been driving for around two hours, and he was around halfway to his apartment, by his estimations. He was taking the back roads, trying to evade road blocks, Halloween night chaos, and in general, any measure of trouble whatsoever.

"Suicide.... I already died...."

He felt the engine of his old Monte Carlo start to shudder, and a few moments later, his RPM's were somewhere up in the seven thousand range, and his speed was dropping by a good ten miles per hour every few seconds.

"Cyanide.... living dead inside...."

Something was wrong, and as he pulled over to the side of the country bumpkin, one-lane road that he was traveling on, he cursed loudly, slamming his fists in to the steering wheel. His ride had petered out to a complete stop on the shoulder.

"FUCK," he exclaimed, popping his hood only to find a torrent of white smoke and the sizzling sound of a blown radiator. His stereo was still pounding, full blast. As he reached in towards his console to turn on his hazard lights, he switched off "Sanitarium."

Randy was a good old boy when you got right down to it. Generally, he was the guy who came home, propped up his feet, watched the news, ate a steak, and passed out in his easy chair drinking beer until it was time to wake up and go to work. It was a grind, a cycle, but it was a lifestyle that fit. Randy didn't want much of anything else, except a kickass show now and then. Of course his car would overheat and blow its gasket on one of the few nights a year that he actually went out to do something. Halloween night, of all nights.

He looked up at the half-clouded autumn night sky, and a wave of the "willies" swept over his shoulders in a brief spasm. This was the first time that he could remember a full moon on Halloween night since he was a kid. Yeah. THAT night. He reached backward through the collar of his shirt to scratch his shoulder-scar again, then he took some of the heated radiator water and splashed a bit on the surface. Odd, really. It hadn't bothered him for years.

He flipped open his aging cell phone to call Triple A, and, to no surprise, he had no coverage. Of course not. He was in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt. He could start walking, or he could wait for another passerby. Either way, he'd be stuck here awhile. Just then, his stereo came to life, the sound blaring in his ears. He'd switched it off, but had he turned down the volume? He reached in to his pocket, and felt the familiar, and somehow terrifying "clinking" of his car keys.

"EXIT....... LIGHT....."

This was the first time the sound of Hetfield's voice terrified him, because he shouldn't have been singing. How was it possible? He walked around the front of his car, and sure enough, nothing else was on.... the hazard lights that had been flashing moments ago were off, his car was dead by all mechanical standards... and yet, there was his CD player console, thriving with life, with old-school 80's metal. Dread overcame his senses as he read the digital scrolling marquis across its surface.

"Give it back, Randy."

He'd made every attempt to play the tough guy, the roughneck man who'd blocked out that Halloween when he was ten years old. He probably should have been in therapy, considering what had happened, but instead, he played it tough, like his dad had always told him. "Play it tough. Whining never got nobody nowhere, son."

Therapy wouldn't have helped his ass, anyway. He wasn't crazy. It was back, plain as day.... no one around to see it in the pitch darkness except him, but by God, it was REAL. He knew, not because his CD player was possessed, not because he was stranded in the middle of nowhere.... but because he was itching. He'd taken the gift, the treat, and it was his fault. No one else's.

It wasn't out to get him because he was unlucky. He owed them a debt.... he'd made the bargain, signed the contract.

He ripped at the buttons of his flannel shirt and clawed at the itching protrusion of flesh. It was peeling off in long, dripping strands, but it felt so much better to expose it to the night air, to get it out there. It was that mark. That fucking symbol that the crazy bitch had carved in to his skin while he'd been held down by the dead hands and the black cloaks. It was pulsating in his skin, like a living, breathing distress beacon, that called to the black thing. He'd tried his damndest, all these years, to stifle the images of the black thing in his head, but it was impossible to seal out now. He could hear it, a long ways off, coming to him in this desolate place, because the mark told it to. It was time. The stereo was on again.

"AND IT ALL CRASHES DOWN. AND YOU BREAK YOUR CROWN......."

She was pretty. That's what he remembered. That's why he went inside. She didn't have those shitty orange and black candies that you could get a million of for a buck at the store. She'd had GOOD stuff, like Milky Ways and Snickers bars, and the smell from inside was so sweet. He liked chocolate, but that sweet smell, it was heaven to his head. He wanted the sweetness with him, always.

"Trick or treat, Randy?"

She knew his name, and he'd chosen treat, and he'd walked in to the room with the figures in the robes, to the middle of the circle. That's where the smell came from... from a small little ball of green light. It was beautiful, and he had to have it. He knew it was the greatest thing in the world.... what he needed. He'd make any deal, any bargain, to have it.

"KING NOTHING!"

When they put him in the circle, he tried to fight, of course. He'd agreed to take what they offered, at a price. He'd been the best hitter on his little league team, and when his little ten-year-old knuckles had hit one of the robes straight in the kisser, it almost shattered his fingers. He'd knocked the hood away, for a moment, before they'd slammed their bony hands in to his neck and forced him to the floor. He hadn't punched a face. It was a skull, and that was the last thing he saw except for the dirty, filth-ridden wooden floors of the blonde lady's dining room.

He'd FELT everything after that. The carving, the blood trickling down the small of his back, the chants.... and, when that was finished, the black thing, shrieking with a terrible ferocity in his mind's eye. The sphere had been implanted. They'd put the little sphere inside him, and he could see everything in a new light. Over time, the music brought it to life, created the fantasy in his head with more vivid and delicious detail.... but, in the last second, every time, at the conclusion of each song.... he always saw the black thing. As if to say, "Yes, Randy. This is wonderful. This is amazing, but one night, the black thing will win."

Best concert. Full moon. Car trouble. It all added up. This was that night. It was time.

They'd never told him the stickler, about the ass end of the deal. He knew, sometime, that he would meet the thing. And, strangely enough, all the travels he'd made in his head, in the middle of his easy chair with his stereo.... he had to admit, it was all worth it.

The trees shook with a heavy shudder, and he felt the throbbing in his back, as if his entire body were about to implode around that little sphere. As the black thing emerged through the highway forest line and swept him up within it, to take back what rightfully belonged to it, he could hear the fading sounds of his stereo in the distance.

"So build a wall.... behind it crawl .....And hide until it's light .... "

Credit to: Violent Harvest

#creepypasta #horror microfiction #creepy stories #horror fiction

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