#they make everything so needlessly tedious

[glitchlight]

Hard to agree with the resurgence in HS blogging and general positivity to the series, focusing as it is rn on everything pre Act 6. yeah there's a lot of brilliant stuff in the first four acts and Hussies comedy and writing style is very compelling. But the quality of the writing in act 6 combined with the frequent delays are the concrete blocks tied to the feet of the series that drown it.

* Literally half of act 6 canonically doesn't matter and ends with a mea culpa about a plotting mistake that ultimately doesn't amount to anything aside from writing hussie out of a corner.

* scratch is a terrible antagonist on basically every level

* everything with the cherubs and scratch kids is a tedious retread of better character arcs repeated out of a needless obsession with symmetry.

* character development from previous acts is all over the place, going backwards at times.

* the initial ending was so abrupt, underwhelming and disconnected from the preceding material it's taken years of post hoc additions to make it half way decent in the minds of diehards.

* act 6 also has a recurring, needlessly condescending undertone towards the audience, years after the suggestion box was closed forever.

A bad ending can ruin a series, and for me personally the way act 6 was handled soured my opinion of the whole series forever. Call it the game of thrones effect: it is really hard to care about anything that precedes it knowing the trainwreck that awaits. I said in the months after that the legacy of homestuck is not homestuck, but the people inspired by it to make better, queerer, better edited stories and I stand by that. Undertale and TLT both blew up to be bigger than HS ever was outside the ex Homestuck crowd for a reason.

#obviously everyone can enjoy what they want and I'm not out here to be bitter but #the very very long time followers know #i was obsessed. i still credit it as a major influence on my writing style #more than anything else id say im bitter because I'm disappointed #it was so so so good and it sank down and down and drowned in the dark

[mazikomo]

In Too Deep — Chapter 2, Testing the Waters

You hadn't even wanted the job in the first place, but after being tossed into the deep end, you found yourself searching for just how far it's depths reached. Modern AU, Silco has a massive aquatic collection and it's your job to take care of it.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 link

Silco/fem!reader, eventual NSFW 4.6k words Modern day AU, slow burn, full tags on AO3

After going through formatting hell, the sharks have arrived! Oh, and there's Silco too, but more importantly, sharks! 🦈

Open mouth kiss to @sherwood-forests for her pharmaceutical knowledge and @steponmesilco for the marine guidance. Don't put sharks on the floor kids.

[DISCORD: The Playground → #general]

TheBoySavior Today at 6:47 PM yo @SharkWhisperer how was the first day? 

Vi(olence) Today at 7:03 PM  first day? you get a new job???

TheBoySavior Today at 7:05 PM she got assigned out to manage a private collection  abandoned me 😭 

Vi(olence) Today at 7:06 PM private collection? who tf has enough fish to need a full time aquarist?

TheBoySavior Today at 7:07 PM  @SharkWhisperer I’m going to let you tell her 

Vi(olence) Today at 7:07 PM TELL ME WHAT?  👀👀 HELLO?? 

[The Playground→ #fishbowl 🐟]

sharkwhisperer Today at 8:54 PM  @TheBoySavior sent you the address and instructions for tomorrow morning, gimme a call if you need anything  TheBoySavior reacted with 👍

Vi(olence) Today at 8:55 PM  oh I see how it is you come online and go to your special little aquarists channel and ignore my questions I expect a full rundown when you get home

[The Playground → #general]

sharkwhisperer Today at 8:55 PM  @Vi(olence) seeing as this is the first chance I’ve had to check discord since this morning, I’VE BEEN BUSY 

Vi(olence) Today at 8:56 PM yeah yeah, you still haven’t told me what this new super secret assignment is 

sharkwhisperer Today at 8:57 PM  too lazy to type home in 15  can I have your leftover pizza? 

Vi(olence) Today at 8:58 PM  replying to @SharkWhisperer it has pineapple 

sharkwhisperer Today at 8:58 PM  im too hungry to care  

You put away your phone after that and closed your eyes to take advantage of not having to focus on driving. The bus stop was only a block or so from your shared condo with Vi, so you had opted to take it instead of having to figure out parking on your first day. Honestly, you might make it a habit. Some people said driving was a good way to sort out their thoughts and decompress. Those people had obviously never driven in Florida. 

With your backpack hugged to your chest, you got as comfortable as one could be in a metal bus seat. You hadn’t been exaggerating when you said your day had been ‘BUSY.’

Even with your methodical approach, you had been on your feet the entire day. Grayson had done a phenomenal job at getting everything ready, but you still had to acclimate yourself. And there was a lot to acclimate to: six tanks, all the life support systems attached to them, the dietary needs of dozens of animals, and the extra care and monitoring of those with medical conditions. Not to mention the usual aspects of starting any new job, like figuring out where the hell everything was. 

Oh, and the sharks are coming tomorrow morning.  

Needlessly to say, you had gotten your steps in for the day and then some. Checking the equipment was a matter of recording settings and what all the gauges read. It was simple but tedious. Thankfully, besides the piranhas, you were familiar with all the other animals. Even more thankfully, you had brought what you called your ‘slop top’ apron to wear while you did food prep. In between all of that, you had also played phone tag with Ekko to coordinate the transportation of the sharks. 

By the time the sun had set, you had established a nice baseline of operations for yourself. 

While everyone else had already left, you only had one thing remaining. A task you had been looking forward to all day: enter the main tank and have a look around. The new scuba suit in the locker room was a nice gesture, but you preferred to wear your own. Plus, red just wasn’t your color. 

You moved methodically, pulling the material taught as you went and only continuing to the next section when the current one was perfectly situated. Starting with pulling on the legs like stockings, then over hips, behind, and stomach. Your arms went through the sleeves like you would put on a jacket from behind until you were able to work it up over your shoulders. From there, all you had to do was zip up the front and fasten the velcro around the collar. Gloves, flippers, and goggles completed the ensemble. 

The suit had a weighted blanket effect, tight enough that you felt grounded despite quite literally floating,   but there was no hindrance to your movements. However,  navigating the long tube attached to an oxygen tank on the surface, instead of carrying one on your back, proved to be a bit cumbersome, but you adjusted well enough. 

Almost immediately after you lowered yourself in, Enoch nudged your side. 

He was one of the two green sea turtles who had come from a local rehabilitation center for marine wildlife. Their injuries had been cared for and healed, but the damage done meant they could not be returned to the open ocean. They were quite the characters. 

For Enoch, the general assumption was that he had been attacked by a shark as a decent portion of his front flippers were missing. However, that didn’t slow him down in the slightest. He loved attention and was known to follow his caretakers and bump into them whenever possible. 

Clarence, on the other hand, reminded you of a grumpy old man in a cartoon. He could have quite the temper and mostly kept to himself, but he still proved to be a sweetheart. He had been struck by a boat propeller which caused an air pocket to form under his shell—bubble butt as the condition was called. The air pocket was unremovable and did not allow him to dive to the depths needed, an unfortunately common occurrence for wild sea turtles. Weights had been attached to his shell to help counteract the pocket’s buoyancy effects. 

Like many turtles with bubble butt, Clarence was not a fan of his weights. With everything being brand new, it wasn’t hard to spot where he had already been rubbing against a filtration pipe in an attempt to knock them off his shell. He wasn't doing any real damage, but it was something you’d need to keep an eye on. 

The jerk of the bus’ brakes alerted you to your stop. Even at night, the heat and humidity was strong and you were already sweating by the time you reached your place.

You heard yelling from inside before you even had the key in the lock. Yelling meant Vi was gaming, maybe you could slip past her without having to explain your new assignment. Vi was generally easy going, but there were a few opinions of hers that she would fight tooth and nail to defend: cereal went into the bowl before the milk, pirating media was a victimless crime and more people should do it, and Zaun Inc. was evil. 

The rumbling of your stomach, however, killed that idea. 

It was dark when you stepped inside, save for the color changing LED lights that lined the living room. Sometimes you regretted agreeing to Vi having her gaming setup in the living room, but you weren’t home enough to justify moving it elsewhere. Besides, she made a surprisingly decent amount of money streaming. You dropped your backpack by the door and went straight to the fridge. 

A cold slice went directly from the box to your clenched teeth so your hands were free to crack open a sports drink. You flopped onto the couch in the spot that was outside Vi’s camera range. A burst of pineapple made you grimace as you chewed but it felt good to get something in your stomach after a long day. 

“Alright guys, I’m going to take a quick break. Back in ten.” 

Vi’s chair, a second hand gaming chair the two of you had picked out of the trash and pushed each other down the sidewalk on, creaked as she turned towards you. 

She looked at you with big eyes and folded her hands under her chin. “Soooo, where’s this exciting new assignment that’s so secret?”

You carefully kept your eyes on the ceiling. “Zaun Incorporated.” 

For the second time that day, you felt the air in the room shift.

“...You’re joking.” 

Eyes still on the ceiling. “Nope.”

Vi shot out of the chair and paced the small room. “Why would you work for a company like that!?” 

Your head lolled to the side as your eyes followed her movements. “You seriously think I would choose a job like this? You know me better than that.” Pizza laying on your chest, your hand pinched between your eyes, “Look, I don’t work directly for them, it’s a contract through my actual employer. I didn’t have a choice, I was the lucky duck that was picked.”

Back and forth. Back and forth she paced. Like a tiger on the prowl until she finally snapped. “Do you know how many kids come in hooked on shimmer?” 

Your throat tightened. It was something you had decidedly not been thinking about since Grayson told you where the assignment was. 

Vi’s day job was working with at-risk youth. She was a boxing coach and mentor for a lot of kids. The program she was a part of, Children of the Lanes, had been founded by her father and was held in high regard in the city. Ever since shimmer hit the streets years ago they’ve had their hands more than full. The substance was still very much a mystery, but everyone knew its base ingredient was the same as that of  Riowave, a pharmaceutical drug invented by Zaun Inc.  It was the first parent drug of its kind, and as soon as it hit the market, Shimmer flowed out onto the streets shortly after. 

From what you understood, the drug was groundbreaking due to its purported lack of side effects and ability to treat chronic pain where other drugs have failed. Unfortunately, the notoriety of shimmer quickly overtook the magnitude of such a discovery and the reputation of Zaun Inc. became tarnished. 

But you also knew that wasn’t the entire reason for Vi’s hatred of the company. No, there was something personal there. Something you had never picked at out of respect for your friendship.

You sat up and rested your elbows on your knees, the cold pizza forgotten.  “Look, I know their reputation isn’t the greatest, but I’m not going to be anywhere near that stuff. My job is to take care of the aquariums and animals. That’s it.” 

“Why does a company like that even have large scale aquariums?” 

“Apparently the CEO’s a shark nut or something, I don’t know. He hardly said anything to me when we ran into each other.” 

Vi rounded on you, “You met Silco?” 

“I think? Is that his name? It was really—” 

“Stay away from him.” 

You blinked. “Why?” 

“Just stay away from him, okay? He’s not a good guy.” She sat down and put her headphones back on signaling the end of the conversation. 

You finished the pizza, not even tasting it as you turned the conversation over in your head and got ready for bed. In the living room, Vi was a bit louder than usual, but better she worked out her frustrations on a video game than you. She’d probably simmer for a few days before cooling off, and if today was any indication of your new schedule, you wouldn’t be around much for it anyways.  

Honestly, you had been so busy today you had forgotten about your brief interaction with the boss—er, Silco. You didn’t know much about him besides what you saw in passing while scrolling social media. He was a rare case of a genuine self-made man in the pharmaceutical industry but many theorized it wasn’t entirely achieved by honest means. If the glimpse you experienced of him today was any indication, you were inclined to agree. 

His authority had been unmistakable in the room. An invisible weight—that eye, the Eye of Zaun nickname from the tabloids finally made sense—held you in place, and yet you were still intrigued. Your eyes had tracked over him. Everyone you had met that day had been in more casual clothes meant for labor, but Silco’s were impeccable. At a glance you could tell the attire had been tailored to his lean form. Dress slacks, button up, waistcoat, and tie certainly gave you pause. 

As you would with a new animal in your care, you kept your actions more reserved. Do and say what would appease them. Make them feel comfortable so you could eventually approach for a closer look. 

He scanned your form as you mirrored his position: firm stance, shoulders back, and hands loosely held behind your back. 

“You’re the aquarist Grayson sent?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“What time will the sharks be here tomorrow?” Right to the point then, best to do the same. 

“What time do you want them here?” 

The minuscule raise of an eyebrow told you that was not the response he was expecting. “Nine will be sufficient.” 

“Nine it is then.” 

–

By 8:55 the next morning, you had already suited up and were in the process of double checking everything you had set up yesterday. The sharks would be going into an isolated area of the main tank that was about the size of a large backyard swimming pool. They would stay there until they were acclimated and trained enough to have full access to the main tank. 

The doors to the freight elevator opened. 

“Five more minutes and I would have had free delivery.” 

Ekko rolled his eyes. “And you have the audacity to call other people’s jokes bad.” 

“You said you’d miss me.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” He pushed the large wheeled crate towards you. “I’ll be back in a minute with the other.” 

You worked on unclasping the plexiglass lid and checked the water flow inside. Ekko returned with the second crate moments later as you adjusted the speed of the small pump. 

He jerked a thumb behind him. “I don’t know what’s crazier, that guy’s hair or his eyes.” 

You looked up. “Oh, Dustin? Yeah, he’s a bit of an oddball but apparently a whiz with heavy machinery.” 

“Wish I had known that while he was unloading them off the truck. I was white knuckling my phone the entire time.” 

“How’d you get them loaded up?” 

Ekko grimaced. “I had to ask Marcus to help.” 

“Ew.” 

“I know. He bitched the entire time about how he should have gotten your position.”

You snorted. “Ironic since he never applied for it.” 

“Yeah, he didn’t like when I pointed that out.” 

“Marcus can suck a dick.” 

Ekko grinned, “That’s exactly what I told him.” 

Ekko and you fell into a comfortable rhythm after that. You gingerly rotated the sharks onto their backs, causing them to enter a sleep-like state, and checked them over to see if anything had happened during the transport. Ekko had already done a full examination with measurements, weight, and blood drawn this morning.

You had only been away from them for about a week, but you were once again struck by the beauty of the sharks. The moment they had arrived at Buhru Aquatics weeks ago you knew they were special. Little did you know just how special, being the prized feature of Zaun Inc.’s new building and all. 

There were a few reasons why sand tiger sharks were the ideal pick for aquariums. On the practical side, they adapt and survive well in captivity. Unless provoked, they’re not aggressive and therefore safe to mix with various other animals. If fed on a regular basis, they wouldn’t seek out a snack in their tank mates. 

Most importantly, however, they encapsulated the ferocious shark look people wanted to see. Three rows of jagged teeth were visible even when their mouths are closed, and long pectoral and tail fins not only allow for stealthy movement, but an impressive and daunting silhouette. 

For being wild caught, it was surprising how quickly these two had adjusted and began to interact with you more and more each day. It was why you loved your job so much; each animal had their own personality and it was never lost on you how fortunate you were to have a front row seat to observe them. Hell, not even front row, you were right on stage with them. 

Zaun Inc. never was a stage you thought you’d be on, but nevertheless, along with these two sharks, you had been thrust into the spotlight. Hopefully the audience wouldn’t throw you overboard.

“So, how’d Vi take the news?” Ekko asked.

“She was upset but understood I’m not actually part of the shimmer pipeline. Though, she seems to have a personal grudge against this place I have yet to uncover.” 

“That's why I let you tell her. All I know is there some sort of beef between her dad and—” 

The metal door clicked as it unlocked and caused the both of you to look up. Speak of the devil, Silco entered and smoothly approached, not even glancing at either of you as he strode right up to the transportation tanks to look inside. 

You cleared your throat. “Good morning, Sir. This is Ekko. He brought the sharks here and will be helping with checking them over and getting them into the isolation area.” 

To your surprise, Ekko offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sir.” 

Silco seemed to act on autopilot as he gave a firm handshake, responded with a clipped, “Pleasure,” then immediately focused back on the sharks. 

He tilted his head. “Two females?” 

That surprised you even more. 

You nodded in confirmation. “You know your sharks.” 

“Based on their size, I was going to say male, but since you have them upside down I can see they’re lacking that anatomy.”

“These two are still juvenile, I’d estimate about three to four years old for both, so they still have quite a ways to grow.  

“Do they have names?” 

You gestured to the one closest to you, “This is Gabriella. She’s quite social for having only been in captivity for a short time. The other is Sandy. She displays more typical behavior and likes to keep close to the bottom of the tank. You can tell the difference by Sandy's more prominent spots and slightly larger size” 

Silco hummed. “She has yet to come out of her shell.” 

“Well, luckily she has the sea turtles to show her the way.” 

You received two very different looks in response: Ekko, an incredulous, are you really telling dad jokes with the Eye of Zaun?? stare and a nonchalant glance from Silco. It was almost expressionless, save for the slightest raise of his brow. He was either amused by your cheekiness, or drafting your employment termination memo in his head. You decided it was the former—he had started it after all. 

“How long until they can enter the main tank?” 

You shrugged. “Depends on how they adjust to yet another new environment. Ekko and I got them onto a pretty good schedule after a few weeks, but I want to make sure—”

“The building opens in a month. I want them in the main tank by then.” 

His tone prickled underneath your skin. 

“That should be doable.” your response was clipped.

Silco looked up and suddenly that casual gaze was cutting. “It will be done.” There was no room for argument in his tone. 

That, however, did deter you. All your life you had a tendency to shoot from the hip and deal with the results afterwards. It had bitten you in the ass on more than one occasion but you chose not to regret things. Your gut may override your brain sometimes but there was always a reason for it. You were here to do a job and you’d be damned if anyone interfered with what you knew was the best course of action.  

The same authoritative tone from yesterday was summoned once more and you reflected Silco’s challenging stare. “With all due respect, Sir, my job here is to care for all of the animals. The sharks won’t be integrated into the main tank until I am absolutely confident there won’t be any issues. One of the turtles in there has already suffered extreme injury from a shark. I will not allow anything like that to happen under my care.” You gestured to the sharks without breaking eye contact. “My expertise tells me a month should be enough time to release them, but I am not someone who makes fruitless guarantees.”

You held his stare, not even allowing your eyes to flicker between his own duo-colored ones. Perhaps an overkill explanation, but if he wanted to play hard ball you were more than prepared to swing back.

Silco’s seafoam eye narrowed. “You would do best to watch your tone,” he paused for a moment as if he could see your insides bristle. Then, to your surprise once more, his shoulders eased. “However, I concede my order. I was unaware of the reason for that turtle's wounds.”

Your own posture relaxed as well. “Thank you, Sir. I appreciate the understanding.” 

“Just be sure everything is done to facilitate the transition in a prompt timeframe.” With that, he turned towards the exit.

You bent over the sharks and stage whispered, “Hear that ladies? Dad wants you in the big kids playground as soon as possible. So be good for him.” 

The only response was the echo of Silco’s shoes and the click of the latch as the door automatically locked behind him. 

Ekko broke the silence. “I know our job involves swimming in shark infested waters, but that doesn’t mean you have to piss them off while you’re in there.” 

“Where’s the fun in that? Help me get the sling under Gabby.” 

Ekko held Gabby in her upside down position while you maneuvered a large nylon blanket under her. After a final quick check over, he rotated her back upright. Together, you then pushed the transportation tank as close to the edge of the isolated area as you could. 

“Just try not to get in over your head here okay? This job is already a lot without you stirring things up with your mouth.” 

You each grabbed an end of the sling on either side of the shark.

“Tell that to my mouth, it runs on a separate operating system. Okay, lift on three: one, two, three!” 

Both of you hefted upwards. Gabby may only be a juvenile but she still weighed enough that there really should be more than two people to help move her. 

As soon as she was out of the water she began to thrash. Quickly, you stepped down into the isolation area where the water came up to your calves. She fought against the confines of the sling as she was eased in. You each lowered your sides of the sling and she smoothly swam out, happy to finally be back in open water. 

You repeated the process with Sandy who was much more agreeable to being moved. From there, you helped Ekko drain the transport tanks and pack up. 

“You want me to come down and help load the truck?” 

“Nah, I’ll let crazy hair play with the forklift again,” he clapped you on the shoulder, “Behave and keep me updated on the girls. I’ll see ya when I see ya.” 

You waved as the elevator doors closed and then you were alone. Well, not completely alone. You had your favorite girls with you now and you were sure you’d be having plenty of conversations with Enoch. 

As you approached the edge of the isolation area you replayed your interaction with Silco in your head. You could have handled it more tactfully, but what’s done is done. Not ideal, but you had gotten your point across. Working with (for?) Silco was certainly going to be a learning curve. 

Admittedly though, you gave credit where credit was due. To reassess and change your stance when presented with new information instead of digging your heels in was admirable. The man was a natural born leader. He had the power of a river cutting through mountains but was still adaptable to the landscape. 

You laughed to yourself, training Silco was probably going to be more of a challenge than training the sharks. Sharks were simple; keep them well fed on a strict schedule, and they wouldn’t cause any trouble. Silco, on the other hand, probably couldn’t be regimented as easily. 

He didn’t even need to be tamed that much though. Like the sharks living in a tank with their natural prey, you needed to find a balance with him. It was his building and his animals, but it was your job to take care of them. You didn’t mind if he came and observed. Hell, you hoped he would. You wanted him to know that his animals were in the best of hands and perhaps even see how deep his shark knowledge went, but he needed to respect that you knew what you were doing. There needed to be a, a… boundary! 

You dashed off to the supply closets not even caring about the wet footprints you left behind.

–

Towards the end of the day, you were observing the sharks when the click of the door made you jump and almost fall into the water. 

Silco’s voice was smooth while you floundered to recompose yourself.

“Yesterday, when you told me so succinctly to leave, you didn’t have any idea who I was, did you?” 

“No, Sir.”

“Silco is fine.” 

“Okay, Silco,” the name felt odd on your tongue, an interesting flavor but not one you were opposed to trying more. “No, I did not know who you were. Ran told me the marina was my domain. All I knew at the time was no one should have been here besides me.” 

“And yet earlier today, you put your foot in your mouth again despite knowing my position.” 

You barely stopped your shoulders from shrugging and instead nodded. Mirror him; if he was formal then you were formal. “I apologize for how I spoke, but I don’t regret speaking up.” 

“Standing your ground, a respectable trait.” Silco hummed, “Just remember your domain is but a small part of my kingdom.” 

He seemed to enjoy putting you in your place, but you were never good at staying still.

“Speaking of, I actually need to stand my ground again right now.” Your voice raised in pitch and you bit the edge of your lip.

Silco’s eyes tracked the quick movement before flicking back to yours. “And how’s that?”

You pointed to his sleek dress shoes. “If you continue to come up here, which I encourage you to do, I am going to have to ask you to wear non-slip shoes past the line.” You moved your finger to the yellow duct tape line that you had artfully run across the floor after your earlier encounter. It allotted a few feet in front of the main entrance and freight elevator as well as encased your office and the locker room. “You may be authorized to go wherever you please, but OSHA applies to everyone,” you paused, deciding to further test the waters with your best customer service smile, “even the king.” 

An eyebrow arched. “You really don’t have strong self preservation instincts do you?” 

“Why cling to a life preserver when there’s so much to explore below?”  

“An interesting way of phrasing it.”

You gave a sweeping bow. “Is there anything else His Majesty requires of his aquarist?” 

Almost as if he was playing along—and he might be, you couldn’t yet read him entirely—his voice adopted the slightest hint of a haughty tone. “That will be all.” 

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[chainsaw-dick]

DL1 is a great game whose one main issue is the story. The gameplay is well balanced, and the parkour aspects can be tough at first but you can adapt. The story feels short and flat, predictable, and you'd expect DL2, to fix it, which it doesn't.

DL2's story is filled with plot holes, inconsistencies, just flat out lack of attention to detail and the devs just going "eh I don't feel like doing that" with so many things it's fascinating. Choosing a side doesn't do shit as far as the main story is concerned.

The staggering amounts of needlessly cut content and constant, and I do mean CONSTANT shifts in what the game was supposed to be during development made this worse, but didn't cause all the problems.

Just the map feels inorganic. DL1's slums were great due to the different levels the game would take you through. The starting point, the Tower and its surroundings, have relatively low buildings closely together, allowing inexperienced and low-level players to be eased into the parkour aspect rather than just dropped in head first. What's more, there are hills, bodies of water, unique buildings- landmarks that aren't necessary to the main quests that make the world feel alive. Harran is a living, breathing city with a history and a reason to be the way it is, split between absolute poverty and fancy, modern buildings that most of its native population won't ever visit.

Old Villedor is flat and hastily constructed with every building looking the same, except for when the storyline demands you to go somewhere and do something, in which case you'll get a tower or maybe a church. Everything is level and thus boring.

The movement, while fine in most part, lacks in climbing. DL1's parkour was janky, rough but with great flow. You could feel Crane fighting for his life when he just barely grabbed onto a ridge or jumped up while climbing.

DL2 aims for a more fluid, floaty feeling, which doesn't work well when you start climbing and Aiden constantly pauses in nonsensical places, or starts going down instead of up or grabbing onto random shit when you want him to jump. I don't actually have a problem with the different direction for what it's supposed to feel like, it's just not done well in some areas.

This brings me onto one of my main issues gameplay wise. The fucking key bind combinations.

See, in DL1, all you needed apart from the standard movement buttons was C, E and B, with the combinations required for certain tasks not overlapping. Run, jump, press E, and you get a kick. Jump, press LMB, you smash an enemy head in.

DL2 makes you do a whole series of tricks before letting you just stomp an enemy's head. Instead of having a specific weapon type for a 360° attack, you press LMB and Tab at the same time (???) and maybe you get it right. You need Tab, Ctrl, C, E, often in weird combinations in incredibly specific moments that make it feel tedious.

The skill tree is poorly balanced. Instead of adding a lot of passive abilities, or affecting your crafting/bartering system, most of DL2's unlockable skills add an active skill. It quickly becomes overwhelming.

DL2 fails because it changes things that didn't require it, and keeps the issues from the first game. DL1's graphics, for a game that's 8 years old, hold up spectacularly well. The world feels alive and moving. The game is terrifying at times, and even during the day, it's eerie to see everything just stopped in time. Shops are open and their signs are on, posters welcome you to Harran, the Stuffed Turtle is still blaring its tune.

Of course, with the large time-skip, DL2 is going to have a different atmosphere, but seeing survivors on every corner while you're lucky to find a group of more than 5 zombies at once takes away from that lonely, uneasy feeling. I've found that the fear and panic of the first game turns into simple stress in the sequel- and not the fun kind. The night-time chases are boring, because there's random safe points strewn about the map, and the removal of the look back while you run feature doesn't help. The new volatile designs also just don't hit the same imo. The red, visceral aspect of the original designs is much more interesting than the grayish skin in DL2.

#yeet talks #like. i enjoyed the game i really did but that makes it all the worse. if it was so fun NOW it could have been soooo much better had #the development not been through all that

[mirror-lock]

From @drakeanddice:

☔Is there a game idea you have that you’re not sure you’ll ever write? If so, what is it?

Two. The first is a game based on both Wretched & Alone and the Second Guess SRD, and vaguely inspired by the final chapters of the book Wolf Tower by Tanith Lee. You're a Babylonian cleric-scribe tasked by the King of Kings with reviving and translating the old law code, which is written in hieratic characters that no one but the priests understand anymore. The problem is, the old law code is savagely and needlessly cruel, and the King of Kings is more concerned about his legacy and the glory that reviving the ancient law will bring him than whether this is good for the well-being of his people.

So you have, of course, agreed to... "translate" the law.

When I first got the idea for the game, it came to be all in a rush, and I was really, really hyped to write it. The problem, I found after I set it aside to focus on more urgent projects first, is how to make it not just yet-another-Wretched&Alone-game. I cannot pick up an SRD without tinkering with its mechanical guts in some way, and given that I've already written Galatea as my "answer" to Wretched&Alone, I'd have to take this in a sufficiently different direction and still stay thematically coherent. My original idea was to provide roll tables to generate the punitive laws and to allow players to change the "translations" for each individual segment, but is that going to be enough? Will it be fun rather than tedious? Will pulling from the Jenga tower sufficiently evoke the desired theme of undermining the code of Hammurabi?

The second game is mostly just vibes so far. It's an epistolary game for two to five players, where each PC is a poisoned scholar kept amiably-hostage in a Tower within a city riven by factional politics. Each Tower has proprietary antidotes for its own poison, which is how the Towers prevent the scholars from running off with Tower secrets. The PCs are friends who became scholars in different towers, writing secret letters to each other. When you start, you choose a candle and you light it every time you write a letter. When the candle finally burns out you stop writing.

The challenge with this one is figuring out everything else. I'm not sure the vibes are strong enough, distinctive enough, worthy enough to try to build an entire rest of a game around them.

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg design #ask me! #project backlog

[sevenmothz]

time to shit on bg3!

this game does not autosave nearly as much as it should. hard to believe nobody at larian thought having a game this big might need more autosave triggers than just major story beats. i legit just spent half an hour rearranging my radials and accidentally triggered a spell and killed a pile of NPCs and had to load a save from AN HOUR PREVIOUS because this game doesn’t even have a timed autosave function. 💀 i don’t even want to think what a nightmare having the game crash or the power go out suddenly when you’re deep in playing and forgot to make some quicksaves. you ain’t a souls game bg3, so get with the picture!

bg3 also fails spectacularly at pushing you to visit camp, meaning you miss out on a ton of conversations and even quest triggers. i’m playing a tav that can talk her way out of fights more often than not, so i end up not needing to long rest as often. that ends up fucking up any engagement with companions and they can easily end up feeling like they’re just background noise rather than actual characters with their own stories.

swapping party members is needlessly tedious. i gotta run all over camp to tell companions to fuck off (with an added “are you sure” dialogue) and then run back to the other side of camp to tell another companion to get off their ass and come with me. as if rearranging inventories before heading out wasn’t enough of a pain in the ass by itself.

like too many games made these days, bg3 spends no time actually teaching you how to play in any way that actually sticks that is also engaging and fun. i got 10+ hours into this game only to restart start from scratch because it took that long to actually figure out the mechanics and rules of playing on my own. most of the shit i’ve learned about this game was through putting my controller down and grabbing my phone to google shit.

when i pause the game via the game menu, everything should pause when i’m not playing online.

i’m sure there’s more, but that’s the shit that’s been bugging me out the most, game mechanic-wise. for a game that came out this year, some of these issues are uh…embarrassing.

#singull play’s baldur’s gate #singull plays bg3 #don’t get me started on my thoughts about the beginning of the story bahaha #overall it’s a great game and i’ve been finally having a good time with it #but oof man…the learning curves for new games are always gonna be a pain #but this has been my worst experience personally

[summonerscenarios]

[1] OKAY anon talking about Mc running off before they find out they're innocent. Okay Mc just wanted to cool down so they skip class and leave campus for the day for self care. BUT THEN they get caught up in app conflict bs like they do when game events happen bc its mc. Maybe helping out the outlaws or somethin- Mc sends the summoner group chat the fyi, that they'll be back. But three days later and the teachers are fucking panicking bc of the situation and they don't know shit AND now the-

OKAY ONCE AGAIN I’M GOING A LIL OFF ON THIS BECAUSE THIS IDEA IS JUST 👌👌👌👌👌 so as you can probably tell in some parts I definitely rambled lmao. I do hope I do it justice~!

And for anyone wondering the original request can be found here!

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

Things had gotten too much. You were so fed up with all the stares, all the sympathetic glances burning holes into the back of your head and all of the whispered words of gossip and speculation like you were some hot topic or reckless wild child who couldn’t be trusted. Everyone was acting like you couldn’t see or hear them, which somehow just made it feel even worse; it was driving you up the wall, even with all of your friends standing by your side the moment you were accused it was hard to ignore everything that came with it. You were pissed, hurt, but the betrayal stung the worst out of everything that had happened so far - you’d put your complete trust in your teachers, looking up to them oh so confident that they’d believe and protect you should the need ever arise, because you genuinely believed that they saw the best in you, even in spite of your faults and encounter track record. You guess that just wasn’t the case though, as that encounter in the staff room still makes you feel sick to your stomach, thinking about the way those same teachers you trusted looked at you with pity and still deemed you guilty of something you so viciously denied. 

They still look at you with pity - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn don’t even try to hide it, maybe not even realizing that you’re looking at their expressions when they’d tried to start up a conversation with you. It frustrates you, because it feels like they have no right to pity you when they were the ones there in that meeting and they didn’t try to vouch for you. They didn’t even listen when you told them you were innocent! Surely they have enough faith in you to believe in you, right?!...right? Whatever the case the whole situation has you dreading coming into school everyday, and as the days pass you’re more and more convinced that things would be better if you could just get out of going at all - there’s plenty of other things you could be doing where you wouldn’t have eyes watching your every move, nor the weight that comes with them.

You don’t know if it’s luck or sheer irony that the teacher responsible for picking you up from class is late one day, but it’s the final nail in the coffin before you decide ‘fuck it, I’m out of here’ and skip class. For the past few days you’d felt pinned, suffocated with eyes constantly on you from the moment you step onto school grounds to the moment you’re out of sight, which makes it oddly freeing to be able to run around without those disapproving gazes - but you don’t want to waste time and risk getting caught, not when you’re so close to skipping and being free for at least a single day. Consequences be damned, you don’t care anymore. Even though everything is still weighing heavy on your mind stepping out of the grounds feels...liberating, and you only dare a glance back once you’re out of the school gates, catching sight of students still in their classroom completely oblivious that you’ve disappeared from their ranks. Telling the teachers where you were going was the last thing on your mind, but you at least have the foresight to send a message to the Summoner’s group chat before you turn off your phone and bolt from the premises, letting them know that you were going out for a day to clear your head. 

It was only supposed to be that one day, you swear, but things have never really had a penchant for going your way. If you had stayed just a few hours longer you’d have learned about the person clearing your name; you’d have seen the teachers’ mad dash through the school when they’d realized you weren’t in any of your classes; you’d have watched the outroar as the Summoner’s learned of the truth in your stead. But you’d missed it all, and spent the day wandering anywhere and everywhere instead - wherever you could go where you wouldn’t risk running into any faculty you went, stewing in thoughts and trying to forget just about everything that had happened for as long as you could before you were inevitably brought back to the school. 

Only that didn’t happen; you were able to crash at a friend’s house on the first night, called in a favor with a nearby guild for a place to sleep on the second night, and the hours in between were spent either wandering or getting dragged into fights - how ironic that even now you couldn’t avoid getting involved in other people’s problems even if you tried - it was seriously getting old. In the meantime, the Summoners are the only ones who get word about what’s happening, but even then you keep it vague so that you don’t worry them, not to mention you don’t want them to needlessly lie if they get questioned by the teachers concerning your whereabouts. Which is exactly what happens; the teachers are all worrying themselves sick by the time the third day rolls around without hide or hair of you, and it’s clear that there’s regrets voer what had transpired over the whole week. Jinn’s rolling your last encounter over and over in his head, wondering if there was something that he could have said that would have made you decide to stay put - maybe letting you know you had someone on your side - but the what-ifs won’t change the fact that you left. Triton’s still cursing how long it took for the news of your innocence to come to life, the thought of how you must have felt being looked at with such suspicion making guilt crawl up his spine and settle in his mind. And Mononobe doesn’t stop looking for you for a second - even if you scream at him or scold him or ignore him completely he needs to see that you’re okay and doesn’t want your last conversation with him being left on such bad terms. One thing is for certain though; they need to find you, and soon.

Things finally come to a head on the third day. Usually during after school hours you’d try to make yourself scarce in the area, but this time you weren’t so lucky. All too quickly you’re dragged into a spat with someone itching to boost their ego with an app battle, and though it was clear they’re all bark and no bite it’s tedious and you want it over with quickly. You just wish it was that simple, as the moment you ready your sacred artifact, watching your opponents prep to set up a battle zone, two figures block your view, standing almost protectively in front of you as they activate their respective sacred artifacts. You don’t even have to see them to recognize them - Mr. Triton and Mr. Jinn are both loud as they declare their presence, stepping into the fight in your stead. Before this week you would have laughed seeing the two of them standing side by side talking big about protecting you; but now? You feel your heart sink into your stomach - this could not have been the worse time to see them.

Mercifully, the battle staves off the inevitable conversation for a little while longer, as the three of you have to focus back on the fight at hand; your teachers are skilled, or at least driven by something to end the battle, and you aren’t willing to play around just to avoid what comes next, so it isn’t long before the person who challenged you and his friends to all back off, releasing the battle zone as they flee back into the crowds to nurse their mental wounds. You almost want to disappear into those crowds with them before you can get caught again, however the moment you turn you’re immediately accosted by Jinn and Triton, the two teachers fighting over each other to get the most concerned word in - where have you been? Why did you run away? Are you hurt?! Their concern is sincere, you can tell as much from their faces since hiding their emotions isn’t exactly their strong suit. And right over their shoulders you can see Mr. Mononobe too as he approaches to join the three of you, having not been involved in the battle zone for obvious reasons; but the sight of all three of them in the same place reminds you so much of that day you’d been accused and the emotions burn in your throat like poison.

There’s venom laced in your tone as you ask them why they stepped in, effectively silencing the two teachers as they share a brief glance and answer simultaneously. Hearing them talk about teachers protecting their students you have to bite your tongue because surely they know how hypocritical that sounds, right? But they keep talking, rambling on about making sure you’re safe and protecting you when you need it and it’s like a trigger, sending everything frothing to the surface. You laugh, bitter and sarcastic before asking if they’re serious - they've gotta be kidding - but you don’t even give them a chance to respond before your words claw their way out into the open and you just about lose it.

You don’t care about mincing your words as you practically bare your soul, everything that’s been welling up finally boiling over. You yell and scream and shout until your voice is hoarse because you’re so pissed that they have the audacity to talk about protecting you when they couldn’t even protect you from those accusations, from all those people thinking you destroyed something just because you could. They have no fucking right to even consider themselves your protectors when they looked at you with those same eyes full of pity, now turned to guilt in light of the truth that had come far too late, and you’re gonna make damn well that they know that you aren’t someone to be pitied - you’re vindicated, seething, and feeling so betrayed by the few adults that you were so sure that you could trust. But that trust was shattered - and that’s exactly why you left, because why would you want to be surrounded by people who couldn’t trust you?!

The emotion behind your voice is raw, and Jinn, Triton and even Mononobe seem to be at a loss for words - no words of reassurance, no advice, no words of wisdom - and that just twisted the knife in deeper when you’re met with no resistance whatsoever. You honestly don’t know what you expected - some kind of fight or rebuttal would justify these feelings that you have - but when you receive nothing of the sort in response you lose the wind in your sails and you choke on your shouts. Your words fail you, turning into sputtering and sharp gasps when you finally buckle and sink to your knees, wiping uselessly at your face as your eyes burn with the sting of tears - a feeling you’ve gotten so familiar with this past week it makes you loathe the feeling. If you could you’d still be yelling, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it - you’re tired, whittled down to your bare bones and you don’t even have the energy to be angry or care that you’re having what you’re pretty sure is a breakdown that wasn’t in the safety of your dorm room. You want to just curl up and disappear - just for a few days, that would be okay, right? Just until you can feel something in your chest that didn’t hurt like hell. The Summoners would understand, you think, they always did - they’d trusted you at least, when it felt like most didn’t. Why could they have been the ones to swoop in and help you? It’s a silly thought, but you feel like you at least wouldn’t be bawling like you are now if it had been them instead of the teachers; you can just imagine how they must be watching you cry in front of them.

Damn, this whole thing really was just a mess....

A hand touches your arm and another touches your back - you’d kick away if you could, but it’s like the touch saps you of all of your energy. Those hands have no right to be so warm, no right to feel so comforting, and yet they are and you want to cry all over again. You have no idea which teacher is the one who helps you to your feet as all three surround you with growing concern once your sobs filter off into broken sniffles, gaze torn between screwing shut to avoid looking at any of their faces and staring right at them so they can see all the emotions in your eyes that your words have failed to convey. When they talk about bringing you somewhere safe, back to the dorms or to the school to discuss everything that had happened, you’re in the right mind to run away all over again, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Instead, you allow those hands on your back and shoulder and arm to guide your steps, ignoring the concern and grave expressions that the teachers share as the reality of what’s just transpired sets in. You don’t know what’s coming next, but you honestly don’t think you care anymore - all you can think about is how tired you are of everything, and this was apparently the last straw that you could handle.

#mechanicaltrickster #housamo #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #headcanons #imagines #tokyo afterschool summoners #mr triton #triton #housamo triton #mr jinn #jinn #housamo jinn #mr mononobe #kyouma mononobe #kyoma mononobe #housamo mononobe #request #ask

[ironmandeficiency]

visions

pairing: plo koon / reader / wolffe

word count: 3291

summary: there’s a game you and plo will play sometimes during briefings that tend to alleviate some of the monotony. neither of you knew that your commander was force-sensitive and knew everything about the past-time until you and your husband offered him a place in your bed.

a/n: force sensitive!wolffe just kinda happened and was not even on the list of ideas for this fic, but i’m so happy i thought of it. it gets real wild real quick and only gets crazier from there. also, i accidentally wrote plo/wolffe in this so if it isn’t your cup of tea, i’m warning you now

warnings: inappropriate use of the force might as well be the title, implied masturbation (m), implied dick riding (f & m), ummmm implied threesomes

“could this be any more tedious? my patience is wearing thin.”

“they most certainly can get more tedious when you say things like that, dear.”

“oh, pardon me for wanting to reward my favorite general for his bravery on our previous mission.”

“a reward, hmm? maybe you could describe this reward to me to pass the time.”

wolffe hadn’t been more grateful to have his helmet since he lost his eye. four months ago the wolfpack was assigned a second jedi general and ever since you arrived on base, general plo has been happier than any of the men had seen him. at first wolffe thought it was because he was finally able to have the same camaraderie with one of his own that the men shared with each other. it was a simple explanation, one that made sense.

then he attended briefings with the both of you and quickly learned there was something much stronger than camaraderie between the two of you. he could hear the playful flirting, the endearing i-love-you’s, the scandalous dirty talk that had wolffe itching to remove his codpiece and slip a hand between the waistband of his blacks. he heard everything through the force, felt it vibrating through his veins all the same. it was that day he thought of the jedi with something more than professionalism for the first time.

weeks have passed since the two generals had enough opportunity to physically show their love and the tension between them was driving wolffe up a wall. it wasn’t enough that his brain had to work doubletime to hide his impure thoughts of his general’s riduur when the nights were lonely, but neither of them bothered to mask their sexual tension through the force because they simply saw no need.

he was losing his kriffing mind.

subliminal images of you riding the kel dor as if he were a racehorse flooded his head mid-sentence, the commander having to obnoxiously cough to cover up the moan that nearly escaped at the sight. your chest was heaving with every bounce and head thrown back in ecstasy, a slick sheen of sweat making you glisten. this was a new image for wolffe and it would be thoroughly enjoyed for months to come.

some days it astounded him as to the ability the two of you had to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was happening through your bond with each other. from what he’d seen, he was the only clone in the 104th that was force sensitive, judging at the way none of them visibly reacted when the generals were having telepathic sex. he had no other names for the sensation and there would be no way for him to ask either of you without raising red flags.

if you or plo found out that he knew about the conversations, wolffe knew there would be consequences. he didn’t know what they would be or whether they would carry over to his duty or to his brothers, but he decided long ago to carry this secret on his own. there was nothing to validate needlessly risking his brothers’ safety all because wolffe couldn’t keep his mouth shut. so keeping his mouth shut was what he did until he got to his private bunk and let himself imagine that it was him you were losing yourself to.

“wolffe, are you okay?” your voice was smooth like honey when you said his name, the concern permeating through the force.

he forced his voice to return to its normal cadence. “i’m perfectly fine, general. little bit of dust just got through the filters is all.” there was no suspicion from either you or plo at the blatant lie, which he was grateful for. this briefing was not the time to reveal his secrets like blacks hanging out to dry after laundry day.

the meeting continued as protocol for a few moments before the dirty talk picked back up, to wolffe’s both detriment and pleasure.

“what a shame our dear commander was losing breath to the dust instead of-”

“not here, dear one. leave our wolffe from our thoughts when he hasn’t consented to be there.”

“he can’t consent if the question is never posed, plo.”

consent? consent to what? wolffe was plenty concerned about what you two could possibly be implying and had to work extra hard to maintain his shields to keep from alerting the jedi to his worry.

“when we’re back on coruscant. he needs to rest before hearing what we have to say.”

“thank you, my love.”

at least wolffe had a timeline for when his fate would be sealed. with that last little bit of security to cling to, he continued with the briefing as if fear wasn’t burrowing into his chest the more time passed between now and arrival to the triple zero.

the arrival into coruscanti airspace thrummed with anticipation, the stale recycled air seeming to know how pivotal the next few hours would be. you had long been teetering on the edge of impatience when it came to the idea of being shared between your loving husband and dutiful commander. it was absolutely unreal how many times you and plo would be just about to bring it up and be immediately silenced by shit luck.

that wasn’t going to happen again, you weren’t going to let it. your patience has been tested for far too long in regards to this matter and even plo would get ruffled when the conversation was stalled yet again. you typically refrained from using the force to guarantee privacy (plo was better at it anyways) but today you were going to pour everything you could into ensuring that the nagging proposition would finally be given.

several hours passed before you and plo were able to free yourselves from the responsibilities thrust upon you both as members of the council. the ‘pack had long since been starting to unwind, many of them wandering to 79’s or to another battalion’s sector of the base to mingle. you looked to your husband, silently asking him to check his bond with wolffe to gauge his location. hopefully he hadn’t slipped to 79’s yet or else the evening’s plans would be tabled for yet another unknown period of time.

plo confirmed that wolffe was in his temporary quarters, thank the force. “is it time?”

“i think we’ve waited long enough.”

wolffe couldn’t believe his ears. he was stunned, his brain running on overdrive to even comprehend the severity of what he was just told.

he already knew that his generals were something more than comrades in arms and that they were secretly married against the confines of their order that they were leaders of. of course he didn’t tell him that he knew already, little gods no, there would be no explaining his way out of that one. there were intimate details about their relationship that he didn’t intend to know, that were just shoved through his mind; even though his shields were some of the most fortified of any clone, he had force bonds with the both of you that apparently ran deeper than he thought they did.

see, a normal force bond between a force-sensitive and a null were as such: a force-sensitive would only be able to project such vivid imagery with someone who was also force-sensitive, the null partner being able to only pick up the feelings behind the image rather than the image itself. when you two were having telepathy sex (and sometimes actual sex), you both took great care to make sure the feelings of the images didn’t leak into your other bonds. but wolffe? he could see the images clear as day and came to his own feelings about them. since you nor plo knew that he could see said images, you both thought you were getting away with something.

these were all things that wolffe knew, knowledge that he could confirm quite easily, information that didn’t betray him.

what had caused wolffe to short-circuit as if he were a measly droid was the way you expressed desire for both your husband and him. your words were beginning to meld together in his ears, none of it making sense. and how was general plo okay with this? he was listening to his wife talk about how she wanted to have sex with another man, a clone no less! most nat-borns would bristle and lash out at even the idea.

he had to get out for a moment, make sure this isn’t some strange and elaborate dream or advanced form of seppie torture. this couldn’t be real. it couldn’t be. so he made his way into his ‘fresher and splashed water on his face, pinched his arms, his cheeks, even nicked himself with the small razor he used to keep his face neatly groomed. every experiment led to the same conclusion: this was real and he was just invited to your bed.

a third in the bed of not just one, but two jedi generals. he, commander wolffe of the one-oh-fourth battalion in the grand army of the republic, was offered the opportunity to sleep with two jedi at once. two jedi that apparently loved him how they loved each other.

he could sense plo approaching him where he stood in the ‘fresher, the mirror being an extra giveaway to his presence that wasn’t particularly needed. “did we make you uncomfortable?” plo was very concerned over wolffe’s wellbeing and the way the normally composed soldier was losing the cool exterior he kept in front of nearly everyone he knew. it was a sight that unnerved the jedi when in the escape pod and when he lost his eye to ventress, and it had the same effect on him right now.

you moved from your seat on the corner of wolffe’s bunk and joined the men in front of the ‘fresher sink. “if this isn’t something you’re okay with, we can pretend this never happened and-”

“no,” wolffe’s voice was louder than he intended for it to be and quickly schooled his emotions before continuing. “you didn’t make me uncomfortable, i just-” a deep breath in through the nose and out through his mouth. maybe he should tell them here that he knows about all of the erotic conversations and images flashed through the bonds, but something stops him.

he decides to give you a small twist of the truth to hide his force sensitivity. “i’ve thought about doing things to you, things that only lovers do, and now that you’re here offering the chance, i don’t know what to say or where to start.” it isn’t like he was completely lying, he had plenty of thoughts of you when not in briefings that counted toward his half-truth. you just didn’t know where or when the thoughts first began.

plo approached wolffe slowly, resting a taloned hand on his shoulder. your husband’s tone washed waves of comfort over wolffe as he spoke, the kel dor’s low timbre having the desired effect. “we can help you with that, wolffe.”

“how?”

“let’s start with simple questions. do you want us to leave?”

“no,” wolffe gripped the feelings of calm sent his way in a vice grip to keep from erupting once more. “ not at all, ge-.”

the honorific being used in such a raw moment set plo off, the jedi’s hand gripping wolffe’s shoulder tighter in warning as he admonished the use of his senate-given title.“you will not address us by rank here in your private space. use our names just as we use yours.”

this was a side to plo that wolffe had never seen in person, this authoritative and borderline furious (and lustful? was his hearing okay?) dimension being unfamiliar territory. it stirred something in wolffe that was achingly familiar yet obscenely foreign; the feelings were similar to those he felt for you, but they ran deeper into a part of himself he didn’t acknowledge much.

it reminded him of the ache in his lungs as the droids began to take apart the escape pod, the unrelated catch in his throat at the way his general was so willing to do whatever it took to save his brothers. when wolffe was a cadet he bristled at the idea of belonging to someone he didn’t know, someone that didn't understand who he was or who his brothers were.

those apprehensions melted away as plo left the relative safety of the pod to defend him and the last two surviving members of their battalion. in that moment he was proud to say he belonged to plo, not just as his commander but as someone who had softened his edges.

this bond only grew the longer wolffe served under plo, and then wolffe met you and it seemed that his heart was capable of being shared between two people. two people that loved each other as deeply as the galaxy was wide. two people that would never hesitate to lay themselves down to protect their lover or their battalion, that treated every living thing with a reverence wolffe didn’t know someone could show.

those very same people were now at his sides, offering him a place of his own with them, space in their bed. and he was yearning for them both.

wolffe was sure of what he wanted. figuring out how he wanted to proceed was the easy part compared to articulating said want. inhaling deeply, he tried to form the words, construct sentences to flow freely from now parted lips. he spent moments trying to calculate the best way to convey the thoughts that led him to his decision but nothing sounded right in his head. he didn’t want to ruin the moment with poorly-chosen words or stumbling over his thoughts as if he were a bumbling drunk.

then a gentle nudge in his brain reminded him of a way to communicate with his jedi that didn’t need words. just his feelings, that’s all he needed right then. so he reached into the force and gripped those feelings like a cadet would a favorite older vod’s leg, and sent them towards the two people in this galaxy that he would do anything for.

wolffe’s silence was both relief and nervous impatience because there was no way for you to know what he was thinking. he had nearly impeccable shields that you had attributed to both his status as a commander as well as your husband’s fierce protection over him, having been the one to fortify them into something so formidable. it was a fortress you weren’t going to penetrate without either permission from wolffe himself or intentionally tearing at his protection, the latter something you’d rather die than even ponder.

he was taking his time with his thoughts, trying his best to not let his confusion turn to frustration and anger. you studied his form and debated whether taking his hand in yours was a good idea before noticing the way he was white-knuckling the sink, taking it upon yourself to save the fixture. the slightest whisper of his hand tightening around yours relaxed you marginally; at least he was acknowledging you despite his deep and almost painful-seeming concentration.

then you’re suddenly hit by something in the force you don’t recognize. they’re emotions, wild ones, and despite their barely-tamed nature they’re safety and devotion and trepidation and love, a love directed towards you that wasn’t from plo. his love for you felt different in the force, much more calm and peaceful after years spent together. this was from someone else entirely, someone who was new and inexperienced in these matters yet determined in expressing them, someone-

wolffe.

how was he projecting like that? only force-sensitives had the ability to transmit emotions like that directly through bonds, but yet it came close to knocking your feet out from under you with the strength. your eyes went to plo and you could sense his own surprise and confusion.

wolffe could feel the way his jedi were shaken by the torrent of his emotions washing over them and the guilt was instant. he turned away from the sink and began to apologize profusely but you silenced him before they could be heard.

his lips were supple and his skin flushed from the sudden closeness. it took the blink of an eye for him to reciprocate the kiss, the hand holding yours lacing your fingers together. you could feel his emotions double in strength through the kiss and the intensity would have taken you to the ground if it weren’t for plo moving to stand beside you.

there were many questions swirling madly through your mind but the most prevalent was “why didn’t you tell us?”

wolffe’s eyes shot to his feet, ashamed of keeping such a big secret from the two of you. “i… i see your thoughts during briefings,” he paused to gauge your reactions, whether he should shut up or explain himself, but he didn’t know which would be better. he felt waves of embarrassment from plo and… wait, you thought it was funny?!

apparently so, seeing as you were now laughing at the current situation, of all the reactions you could have had this was not expected.

if you didn’t laugh at wolffe seeing every dirty thought you’d sent your husband’s way during briefings there’s a good chance you would have cried. how long had he been having to pretend like he was okay during briefings?

you tilted the commander’s chin up and locked your eyes with his, slowly starting to let your feelings seep through your bond. “wolffe, just how much do you know about the relationship between plo and i?”

only a fool wouldn’t be able to sense the lust slowly creeping its way through the bond. plo clearly was beginning to feel it, if the taloned hand creeping along your waist was any indication. it filled wolffe with a confidence he hasn’t felt in hours, since the two of you mentioned him in your thoughts.

he decides to go with it. you and plo both have told him that he was wanted, so it wasn’t like anything bad was going to happen after he does what he’s about to do. wolffe leans in close to you, hot breath fanning along your neck as he begins to speak in a velvet husk. “i’ve seen enough to know how much you enjoy it when he drags his talons down your back, to know how eager you are to please him night after night,” a hot, wet kiss is placed below your ear and the hand holding his grips hard.

plo enjoyed the sight in front of him, watching you slowly starting to submit yourself to wolffe. but that wasn’t tonight’s goal; tonight was about the two of you showing wolffe how much he was appreciated, how deeply he was loved by the two of you. “you are right, she is always eager to please. but tonight is about you, wolffe. let us take care of you the way you deserve to be.” the kel dor glides a talon along wolffe’s jawline and enjoys the lust permeating the latter’s force signature.

your husband’s voice snapped you out of the trance wolffe had you under. he was right, this was about wolffe. so you took the hand he still held and guided him to his bunk, plo close behind. the next several hours were spent worshiping wolffe in all his glory, letting him learn the two of you just as you learned his body. it was the first of many nights spent holding your men as close as you could, knowing that duties would take them away come morning light.

#star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #star wars #plo koon #plo koon x reader #commander wolffe x reader #plo koon x commander wolffe #commander wolffe x plo koon #plo koon x reader x commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader x plo koon #would you look at the time! it’s loving plo koon hours #it’s loving plo koon hours

[quicksiluers]

Here’s a dumb story of Grant not talking to Sherman all day and Sherman has no idea why and is stressing way too much about it and Grant is super embarrassed by it when they actually talk about it. (it’s needlessly long so I apoligize in advance) (I also posted it on ao3 if it’s easier to read there)

With special appearances byyyy Rawlins, McPherson and Comstock cause why the hell not

“And this play we saw, it had to be one of the worst things I had ever seen.” 

McPherson raised a brow, a playful smirk on his lips, “Sherman, if it’s not some professional play, you always think it’s the worst thing you’ve seen.” 

Sherman frowned, ignoring the low chuckle coming from Grant beside him, “It’s not my fault all these actors out here are awful.” 

“Maybe you’re being too harsh?” Grant asked, rolling his cigar between his fingers, “You’re standards seem...high.” 

“Should I set my standards low?” The redhead pushed back, glancing back and forth between the two generals, “If that is their job, they should at least try to be good at it.” 

Snorting, McPherson shook his head and waved the older man off, “Out here I’ll just take what I can get.” 

The wood in the fireplace beside them cracked, the embers filtering up through the chimney. A small chill settled through the room, the winter air creeping through the walls. Sherman ignored it, occasionally rubbing his hands together for a small bit of friction. A little cold wasn’t going to bother him when McPherson and Grant were around. 

Memphis was a city he had spent far too much time in. The people were a pain to deal with, the press even worse, and the weather had been awful the past week. Somehow he found himself missing those summer months outside in the Mississippi heat. 

“I’ll take anything over those balls they invite us to,” Grant grumbled, stuffing the cigar in his mouth, “Those are tedious.” 

“At least the food is good,” McPherson argued, crossing his arms, “I’ve only been to a few and that’s usually the best part.” 

“That’s the only good part.” 

Sherman laughed, “Mac when you go to as many of those things as Grant and I have, you’ll understand how absolutely god awful they are.” 

The younger general’s brows pinched together, his thick beard hiding a small pout, “Well if I was invited to more of them…” 

“Trust me when I say you don’t want that invite,” Sherman jabbed his thumb over in Grant’s direction, “Grant finds a way to scurry off half the time when we’re at them, he’s a genius at finding the easy escape.” 

Laughter filled the room. The redhead covered his mouth, trying to control himself. He wished he had that talent, it would come in handy in a number of situations. 

“Plus, those absolutely awful people you have to deal with,” Sherman continued, “The politicians and the men who claim to be with the Union when it’s incredibly easy to tell they are two-timing snakes.”

“I”m shocked you can tell the two groups apart,” McPherson teased, kicking Sherman’s boot, “You seem to describe them the same way.”

“They essentially are.”

A small movement caught his eye and Sherman turned, watching as Grant pushed back from the table. The cigar was set firmly in his mouth, his expression clouded. Their eyes met briefly before Grant looked down at his pocket watch, the beat-up item resting in his palm. 

“It’s getting late. I have some work to do,” Grant snapped the watch shut, nodding to the two of them. 

“Rawlins can’t do it for you?” McPherson asked, moving to stand up before the older the general waved him down, “What could be so press-” 

“Everything is always pressing with Washington Mac.” 

“It can’t wait until morning?” Sherman questioned, eyebrow raised. If there was something urgent, Rawlins would have crashed the party without an invitation. The young aide had a knack for coming in at the worst times. 

Grant glanced at him and Sherman was taken aback by the coldness of the stare. 

“I would prefer it be finished tonight,” he replied, quickly looking away from Sherman. With a small nod and a muttered goodbye, the leading general gathered his things and made his way across the room. As he left, either from the wind or maybe his own strength, the door slammed shut. 

Silence hung between Sherman and McPherson as they sat in the room, eyes glued to the door. McPherson scratched the side of his face, eyebrows pulled together, “That seemed abrupt.” 

Sherman couldn’t help but agree. Grant could be blunt, but that sort of abruptness wasn’t like him. Especially towards him. The coldness of Grant’s glance unsettled him as well. Had they mentioned something they shouldn’t have? 

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, “Must be something important, you know how they get on his back for anything over there.” 

McPherson nodded slowly, the puzzled expression still on his face, “I suppose…” 

“If Washington had to deal with me, they wouldn’t get an answer until I felt like giving them a goddamn answer.” 

“And that is why,” McPherson pointed with a laugh, “they don’t have to deal with you.” 

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The morning was brisk with a light flurry in the air. None of it stopped the people from roaming up and down the streets, either greeting him with a polite smile or an angry sneer. Sherman tried his best to ignore both. 

The stairs underneath him creaked as he climbed up, bypassing a flushed-looking staff officer. Probably the young man’s first day at the job, he knew the look of someone given too much information in one meeting. He was sure it made the boy’s head spin.  

Striding through the other aides, Sherman entered his office and grabbed the papers and envelopes off his desk. 

“Anything important come in colonel?” Sherman turned, the young man glancing up from the hand full of other papers he was shuffling through, “Don’t tell me I have to look through all that crap.” 

“Oh no sir,” the colonel, Williams, replied. He shook the papers lightly, “Just some complaints from the city folk, which I’ve mostly gone through and divided up.” 

“And?” 

“And most of it is not all that important or interesting,” he shrugged, pushing up his glasses, “the normal complaints and requests that are usually dismissed or denied.” 

“Lovely,” Sherman muttered, walking around his desk and sitting in the chair behind it. 

Shuffling through the mail, there was a few telegrams from Blair and McPherson he would have to review. Some requests for leaves, an invitation or two for another party one of the wealthy city folk was putting on. He’d have to come up for an excuse on those. There was no chance in hell he’d get caught up in those parties again, especially if Grant managed to sneak off. Half the reason he went was because the younger general would be around. 

“Nothing from General Grant this morning?” Sherman questioned, flipping through the papers again. There was a letter from Ellen he would have to read. And it looked like John had sent him something as well. 

“No sir, nothing that came across your or mine’s desk.”  

Odd. Grant made it a habit to leave him a note or something in the morning. Maybe whatever he was finishing up last night didn’t leave him time to have anything sent over. 

Sherman leaned his chair, pulling a cigar from his breast pocket. Ellen had tried to tell him not to smoke so much in the morning, but he couldn’t help it. With the damn cold, he needed to warm up somehow. It wasn’t as if the building was producing any heat to give him comfort. 

Colonel Williams sat silently off to the side of the room at his small desk, eyes flicking back and forth over the pile of papers before him. The young man was useful, he knew exactly what Sherman did and didn’t want to see and brought only the important things to his attention. He also had a knack for reading his moods, which was something all his other aides seemed to lack. 

“I’m sorry sir,” the colonel said, crossing the room, “It seems that General Grant did send something, it just came from General Rawlins. I apologize,” he placed the single sheet down on Sherman’s desk, his eyebrows pinched together. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” Sherman asked, grabbing the sheet. 

“No sir, just…I guess I’m used to General Grant writing to you personally.” 

The redhead shrugged, “When he gets caught up, Rawlins sometimes takes care of it.” 

His eyes trailed over the words, General Sherman, General Grant is unable to accompany you to dinner later this evening. He apologizes in advance. -  Your Obt. Servt. Brig. Gen. J. Rawlins. 

Oh. That was sudden. 

Sherman frowned, chewing on the butt of his cigar. It was incredibly unlike Grant to cancel a meeting, especially this one in particular. It was just going to be the two of them, talking over potential strategies and plans for the upcoming campaign season. Putting together a framework of what going forward would entail and what Washington may or may not above.

Dread crept over him as his eyes went over the note again. 

Maybe Grant decided he didn’t need Sherman to come up with a strategy. He was a man of action and came up with his own movements frequently, which Sherman would follow. Even when they didn’t agree. But they always talked things over, even if Grant didn’t take his input.

What if Grant didn’t need him to make plans? The brunette didn’t really need Sherman’s input at all. Maybe Grant somehow realized and is thinking of moving on, maybe- 

He let out a small breath, the smoke blowing in Williams’s face. The colonel coughed but Sherman was lost in his spiraling thoughts. Stop thinking like that. Just try to go by Grant’s headquarters later. There was no need to make this a bigger deal than it had to be. 

“Thank you, Colonel,” Sherman replied, trying to wave the smoke away, “I’ll be sure to handle it.” 

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

“What do you mean he isn’t here?” 

Cyrus B. Comstock raised an eyebrow, annoyance creeping up into his face, “Do you need me to write it down for you General Sherman?” 

He could almost feel his eye twitch. Cyrus was newer to Grant’s staff, an engineer from the east, but they had gotten along well around Vicksburg. A no-nonsense sort of man, probably from dealing with all the catfighting over in the eastern army. He appreciated that sort of attitude, just not at this exact moment. 

“General Grant is usually here during the day,” Sherman retorted, trying to keep himself calm, “Did something come up to call him away?” 

“Rawlins said that they had some errands to run,” Comstock shrugged. He placed his stack of books down on the desk before him, hand resting on his hip, “They didn’t say when they would be back.” 

Rawlins. Always Rawlins. The boy was practically glued to Grant’s side. Sherman didn’t know how Grant stood it. If Colonel Williams followed him around like a puppy, he’d lock every door behind him.  

Sighing, Sherman carded his hand through his hair. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed at Rawlins. He just needed to know everything was ok. The cancellation was just…so unlike Grant. He had to know what he said or did to bother him.

“How was General Grant this morning?” 

“How was he?” Comstock repeated. 

Now the younger man was getting on his nerves, “Yes, did he seem…fine?” 

“He seemed like his normal self,” Comstock’s eyebrows pinched together again, confused, “Why? Is he supposed to be upset?” 

This was going nowhere. The annoyance mixed with panic was making every nerve feel like it was on edge. This room was stuffy anyway. “No, I just…never mind, I’ll talk to him later.” 

Sherman stormed out, passing by the other busy body aides Grant had working. 

Everything was fine. He would just talk to Grant later, find out what was keeping him so busy. It had to be something extremely important. Probably telegrams from Washington, acting like chickens with their heads cut off. 

Surely that had to be it. 

He stuffed a cigar in his mouth, chomping down on the end. The tobacco ground against his teeth. There was something he was missing. What had brought this on? It wasn’t like there weren’t any secrets between them, but Sherman felt like Grant was always open and happy to see him. He had given him that chair at Chattanooga for god’s sake! 

It must have been something he did. The sheer thought of that made the panic grow. 

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

“I think you’re overthinking this Sherman.” 

“Am I?” He asked hotly, the floorboards squeaking as he paced back and forth, “Grant doesn’t just cancel something we’ve been talking about for weeks. There has to be a reason…” 

McPherson rolled his eyes, chin resting in the palm of his hand. The younger general’s desk was neatly organized, papers stacked to perfection. Just like McPherson, always organized and ready to go. Calm, cool, and looking at him like he was crazy. 

Maybe he was. 

“Grant is probably just busy with other things and can’t make it,” McPherson explained, watching the redhead tug at his beard fiercely, “it probably isn’t more complicated than that.” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

McPherson sat up a bit, crossing his arms over his chest, “I wouldn’t understand? Sherman, I was on his staff for a good portion of time. I think I know a little about how Grant operates.” 

Sherman glanced at him, stopping in the middle of the floor. His fingers pulled at his beard again, his irritation building up. He had racked his mind over their conversation over and over. There was nothing he noticed that may have irked Grant, everything seemed so perfectly normal until he left.  

Sighing, he dragged his hand through his hair, his other hand resting on his hip, “It was hard to schedule it as is, god knows how long we’ll stay in the same place together. And it came in this morning too, which seems…” 

“Abrupt?” McPherson finished with a small smirk. 

The redhead frowned slightly at that, “Yes. It seemed very sudden.” 

“Like how Grant left last night abruptly?” McPherson continued, “when he said he had important things to work on for Washington?” 

“He would have finished that by now,” Sherman countered, continuing his pacing, “And if he didn’t, I’m sure he would have told Rawlins what needed to be done.” 

“You know Grant likes to do that stuff himself, with it going straight to the president and all.” 

“Did I say something last night?” He changed the topic quickly, tired of McPherson’s counterpoints. They made sense of course, but there had to be more. Surely there was something else behind this. He must have done something to bother the younger general. 

The brunette frowned, looking up the ceiling for a moment, “Last night?” he muttered, taking a moment to think about it. He shook his head, “Nothing that stands out.” 

“Nothing that would offend him?” 

The younger man cracked a smile, a small laugh escaping him, “Offend him? Now I do think you’re overthinking this.” 

This was going nowhere. He just needed to talk to Grant, that’s all. Clear the air, find exactly why he couldn’t meet him tonight. It wasn’t too much to ask for. Just an explanation.  

That was perfectly reasonable, wasn’t it? 

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

The candlelight in his office dimmed, casting small shadows across his desk. Beyond the window, he watched the last streams of sunlight disappear into the night sky. Winter was the worst time, with the short days and what seemed like everlasting nights. Plus the cold air that would nip at his bones, even with his warmer clothing on, was not pleasant.   

Sheman puffed on the cigar resting between his lips, leaning back in his chair. Since he came back to his office, he hadn’t moved from the spot. Every single thought in his mind was racing, trying to solve this riddle. Was it a riddle? Was he making something out of nothing? Wouldn’t be the first time. 

But dammit, maybe he just really wanted to have dinner with Grant.  

The younger general was busier than ever. Between his new command of all the armies from the Appalachian Mountains to the Mississippi River, Grant barely seemed to have time for himself. The fact that they were able to get together last night was a miracle. He had joined last minute and like a flash, he was gone again. 

Plus that rumor of him getting the rank of full lieutenant general seemed to hang over his head. The idea of losing him to the eastern theater gnawed at Sherman. That theater was a disaster. The politicians got their hands into the army’s business far too often and the men there couldn’t do anything worth a damn. And even when they did score a victory, they seemed to somehow let it slip through their hands.  

Out here in the west is where the war would be won. There was no doubt of that in Sherman’s mind and he wanted to reiterate that again to Grant in their meeting. But now he wouldn’t get the chance. 

It wasn’t as if Grant was going to disappear off the face of the earth. He just wanted...what did he want? 

Maybe he just wanted to spend time with Grant before he was dragged off hundreds of miles away from him. 

Sherman frowned, sliding down in his chair a bit as he felt his cheeks flush. What he wanted didn’t matter. It was up to Grant and for some reason, the younger man didn’t want to see him.  

Which was fine. Totally fine. Nothing wrong with that at all. 

A light knock echoed through the room. “Come in.” 

The door creaked open and Sherman looked up, meeting the confused and slightly concerned expression of Colonel Williams. He waved the young man in, sitting up in his chair. Pull yourself together dammit.  

Williams saluted before walking in, a folded piece of paper in his hands, “Sir, a message arrived from General Rawlins for you. It came in only a short time ago.” 

Sherman perked up at that, rising in his seat. What could it mean? He quickly took the slip from Williams’s hands, his eyes scanning over the short message.  

When you have a moment, would you please come over to General Grant’s headquarters to speak with me? There is a matter here I would like to discuss with you. Your Obt. Servt. - Brig. Gen. J. Rawlins.  

Incredibly cryptic, which was very un-Rawlins-like. His frown deepened, reading over the message again. What would he need to discuss? 

Sherman stuffed the paper into his breast pocket, next to the cigars, and rose from his chair. “Thank you, Colonel. If anyone needs me, advise them that I will be with General Rawlins.” 

He left the young man behind before he could answer, his nerves on end. It had to be related to Grant. Rawlins would surely know what caused him to cancel. If Rawlins didn’t know, then Sherman would never find out without going to the source. And that scared him like hell.  

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

John Rawlins looked like absolute shit. Sherman knew he has been sick, Grant mentioned it offhandedly, but it still shocked him to see. The younger man’s back was to him, hacking into a handkerchief. 

Rawlins wiped his mouth, stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket. He turned and Sherman took in his sunken cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn’t slept for days. “General Sherman, can you close the door?” 

Puzzled, Sherman obliged him and gently shut the door behind him.  

“Did you say something to Grant?” Rawlins asked directly, leveling a smaller glare at the taller man.  

His stomach dropped. So it was something he said. Goddammit, but what was it? “If I did, I don’t know what made him upset.” 

“Upset?” Rawlins repeated, hands resting on his hips, “He’s not upset, he’s just been...so goddamn moody the entire day.” 

“Moody how?” Sherman asked, stepping closer to the brunette. So he wasn’t upset? 

“Like he hasn’t spoken a word all day.” 

“Well you know that isn’t uncommon for Grant,” he replied, “Sometimes he can go hours without talking.” 

“Yes, but he hasn’t spoken to anyone all day. Including myself, which is an issue when you’re supposed to be his chief of staff,” Rawlins responded with a hint of annoyance, “he’s been in this mood since he returned last night and you and General McPherson were the only ones to see him. And in combination with that letter from his fathe-” 

 “Well, why isn’t General McPherson here?” Sherman interrupted, irritation rising, “Have you asked him?” 

“I know General McPherson wouldn’t say something to somehow offend General Grant.” 

Sherman’s anger flared up, planting his hands on his hips, “So you just ASSUMED I said something that’s made Grant moody all day?”  

Rawlins glared at him and pointed his finger, “Either something you said or something that happened in that room.” 

Sherman’s cheeks flushed at that, the anger boiling up, “Well if you and Grant were together all da-” 

“We weren’t together all day.” Rawlins cut him off, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just told Comstock to tell people that so they would leave Grant alone.” 

“Unbelievable!” He tried not to shout, but he couldn’t hold it back. All the pent-up anxiety and anger were going to make him lose his mind, “I just wanted to figure out why Grant canceled out goddamn dinner and you go and make Comstock, and I’m sure all the other aides I may have asked, lie! Perfect! Fantastic!” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Rawlins muttered, rolling his eyes, “That’s another reason why I knew it was you because the ONLY thing Grant requested from me all day was to send that note to you and for the life of my don’t know why.” 

The words stopped him cold. In an instant, the anger was overtaken but the anxiety. It was something he did to bother Grant. He couldn’t stand it, knowing he had made Grant feel like...whatever he was feeling like.  

“Well, where is he?” Sherman asked, taking a small breath. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest. 

Rawlins stared at him hard, his frown deepening. Sherman was beginning to think he was going to have to plead to the other man to know. Grant had a knack of slinking off when he didn’t want to be found.  

A hard knock on the door broke the silence. Rawlins’s shoulders seemed to drop slightly as if a weight had been lifted, “Come in!” 

Come in? They were in the middle of a conversation! His annoyance spiked, who the hell did Rawlins think he wa- 

The door behind him creaked open and Sherman turned, eye’s widening slightly when he saw Grant’s familiar tired face. The younger general looked up and their eyes met, and he seemed to freeze for a minute. 

“Rawlins...” Grant grumbled, stepping into the room more. His eyes jumped from Sherman to Rawlins, who had a small smirk tugging on his lips. The young man seemed very proud of himself.  

“Now that you’re both here,” Rawlins clapped, “you can discuss whatever the hell is going on between the two of you.” 

Sherman felt his face heat up and he saw Grant’s eyebrows pinch together, his frown deepening. “Rawlins, there isn-” 

“Don’t you say there isn’t,” the young man interrupted, brushing past Sherman to stand in front of Grant, “because clearly there is and it’s been a pain all day.” 

The two brunettes glared at one another, neither wanting to give ground. Grant’s eyes flickered over to Sherman. There was something beyond the look that he couldn’t place.  

Grant sighed, holding up his hands, “Fine.” 

“Good, now if you’ll excuse me,” Rawlins looked back at Sherman and then to Grant, “I’m going to get something to eat. Deal with...,” he waved his hand between the two of them, “whatever the hell is going on here. Please.” 

Before Sherman could say anything, the young man slipped out of the room, closing the door with enough force to make his point. 

Then it was just the two of them, standing a few feet from one another. There was an awkwardness, Grant fiddling around with a cigar in his hand. Looking anywhere that wasn’t at Sherman. It was going to drive him mad. 

“Grant...” Sherman trailed off, unsure of what to say. Which was rarely a thing that happened. But he didn’t know what he was apologizing for, hell he didn’t even know why Grant had ignored him all day.   

The general walked past him, sitting on the edge of the desk in the middle of the room. He continued to fiddle with the cigar, suddenly interested in the tips of his boots. Why was he acting like this? Grant never acted like this. Sure he was silent a majority of the time, but there was still a presence there. People knew he was commanding the room. But this didn’t feel like that at all.  

“I didn’t realize this was what Rawlins asked me to come here for...,” Grant muttered with a shake of his head, “Should have known.” 

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Sherman shrugged, trying to break the ice, “I just assumed he was having me come in to yell at me.” 

The younger general chuckled, finally looking up at him. There was a flush to his cheeks that surprised Sherman, giving him pause. Maybe Grant wasn’t feeling good? That would explain some things. But why not come out and say that. 

Grant waved his hand to the empty space next to him on the desk, inviting him over, “That is something he tends to do.” 

Walking across the room, Sherman sat on the edge of the desk, a small space between him and Grant. He sighed, combing his hand through his beard, “Grant, I don’t know what I said or did but I’m sor-” 

Grant held up his hand, Sherman shutting up immediately. He watched the other man as he rolled the cigar between his fingers, the flush on his cheeks getting darker. Did he have a fever? 

“It’s nothing you need to apologize for, I was just...,” Grant stopped himself, scratching the back of his neck, “It’s childish really.” 

“I mean, clearly I said something.” 

“It wasn’t really anything.” 

“Well, it upset you enough that you didn’t want to see me all day.” 

Grant sighed, fiddling around with the cigar again. The flush had gotten darker and Sherman couldn’t wrap his head around it. He had never seen Grant like this, everything about this situation was completely foreign to him. Grant didn’t get embarrassed, he didn’t get frazzled. In the midst of battle, he was incredibly cool under pressure.  

Sherman watched him, trying to understand. Maybe he was sick. It could be making him act out of character. That had to be it.  

On impulse, he reached out his hand and placed it on Grant’s forehead, making the younger man jump. It did feel a bit warm but nothing that would indicate a fever... 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Grant spluttered, grabbing Sherman’s wrist and pulling it away, his eyebrows pinched together, looking at him with confusion. 

He was reaching his breaking point. Why couldn’t he just tell him for god’s sake? 

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re sick or something because I can’t understand what the hell is going on,” Sherman declared, waving his free hand dramatically, “I’ve been trying to figure it out all day! Just...,” he deflated, trying to compose himself, “just tell me what I did so we can move on.” 

Grant stared at him, the normally stoic expression clouded with embarrassment. Sherman felt a gentle squeeze on his wrist, a small warmth coming over him before the other man let go. Grant’s hands sat on his lap, his fingers twisting the fabric of his pants.  

“I don’t ‘scurry’ away.”  

The voice was barely above a whisper, Grant looking straight at the wall, away from him. Sherman blinked, trying to understand.  

“You don’t what?” 

Sighing, Grant looked at him, a small pout on his face. The red on his cheeks hadn’t faded away, they had intensified if anything. “You said I ‘scurry’ away at parties...I don’t I just...,” he carded his hand through his hair, messing up the small style he had to it, “I just don’t like being around that many people.” 

Sherman blinked, staring at him. And then he blinked again. The information whirled around in his head, “You don’t... ‘scurry’ away,” he repeated, slowly putting the pieces together. 

The younger general nodded, watching him like a hawk. As if he expected some sort of reaction from Sherman, though he wasn’t sure what. It obviously hit some chord with Grant. He couldn’t imagine why, everyone knew Grant wasn’t into the big social scenes.  

“No,” Grant replied curtly, “I...,” he paused, running his hand through his hair again, “It’s dumb, I made it something it didn’t have to be.” 

On the one hand, Sherman was more confused than ever. He had no idea that Grant had this side. Julia had mentioned it in passing once or twice, her little teasing making Grant blush, but he had chalked that up to their cutesy romance. He was the shyest fellow you ever saw, she told him one night over dinner. But also extremely determined, it was something Julia appreciated about her husband. And it was an aspect that Sherman also appreciated.  

On the other hand...there was this flop strand of Grant’s hair hanging over his forehead that Sherman wanted to reach out and push back. His hair always seemed so put together. And those clear blue eyes were looking at him, the flush on Grant's cheeks making the color come out more. All frazzled like this, the younger general was...extremely cute.  

Oh for god’s sake, listen to yourself. Sherman crushed that feeling down immediately, grabbing a cigar from his pocket so Grant wouldn’t notice his own flustered face. Acting like some fucking damsel.  

“I didn’t realize that bothered you,” he stuffed the cigar in his mouth, the smoke calming him down.  

“It’s...,” Grant stopped, tapping his fingers against his knee. He pushed off from the desk, back to Sherman, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “We can just move past it.” 

“Obviously not,” Sherman countered, “If it’s something that bothers you, I’d like to know why.” 

He could see the tension in Grant’s back, slightly rocking back on heels now and again. There couldn’t be anything like this between them, not when they were about to move into what they hoped was the final months of the war. The planning, everything hinged on them working together.  

“You would?” Grant answered with a mutter, nodding a bit. Like he was coming to terms with something. He turned toward Sherman, his shoulders deflating slightly. He looked tired, worn out.  

“Yeah, I would.” 

“I didn’t mean to take my...annoyance out on you. It just happened to be the combination of what you said and…,” Grant paused, gesturing with his hand slightly, “a letter I received from my father. It had...more to do with him than you but he’s not here so…” 

Jesse Root Grant. Sherman had met the man once or twice when he came to visit Grant in camp. The older man would be warm in greeting but there was a look in his eye that always unsettled him. Like he had an agenda while visiting. 

He also happened to be an ass. Causing more problems than what they were worth, publishing Grant’s letters in the papers. Then all those journalist half-wits would pull from them and disparage Grant in the miserable little articles.  

The pieces all fell into place for Sherman. It just happened to be a wrong comment, the wrong time. The nervous weight he had carried around all day lifted from his shoulders.  

“Your father does have that charming personality,” Sherman remarked, pulling out his cigar, “All that talk and scheming, can’t see how that could affect anyone poorly,” he smirked, waving a hand in Grant’s direction, “such as yourself.”  

For a moment there was no reaction. Grant stared back with that blank expression of his and Sherman thought this time he had taken it a step too far. 

Slowly, a smile tugged onto the young general’s face. Then a chuckle and Grant put his mouth over his face, trying to hide his laugher. It was a rare sound that Sherman delighted in and his smile grew wider.  

“Real ol’ shame for the papers when Jesse stopped blasting your letters for headlines, then they had to do actual work for a story to come up with.” 

Their laughter bounced around the room, the tension evaporating. Grant’s face was flushed again, shaking his head as he came over and stood before him. He wiped at his eyes, a small smile on his face, “It was a sorry day for them.” 

“Really made them scurry off,” Sherman jested, kicking the toe of Grant’s boot with his own, “Probably wailing in the streets too!” 

Composing himself, Grant took a deep breath, that wave of calm Sherman knew so well seemingly coming over him. But the smile didn’t disappear, “Yes, scurrying off I’m sure. Heading for other camps, picking up their rumors too.” 

“But really, your father is an ass.” 

Grant bit his bottom lip slightly, incredibly unfair to Sherman, keeping his smile from growing. “He can be...a handful. Stubborn.” 

“Impossible. He seemed extremely reasonable when he visited.” The sarcasm was oozing from the words, but he couldn't help it. The man was a pain in Grant’s side.  

“You should him when he’s in a good mood.” 

“Charming I’m sure.” 

They shared a small laugh, silence settling over them. Sherman’s eyes looked Grant over, the tension seemingly gone. More at ease, like he normally was around camp. 

Grant pulled out his pocket watch, clicking it open to the clockface. His thumb brushed over it, “Did you eat before coming here?” 

Sherman almost jumped at the question but he calmed himself, trying to keep that aloof personality in place. He didn’t want to seem too eager, “As a matter of fact, I thought I had plans...but it seemed like the scheduled time for them changed a bit.” 

Snapping the watch closed, Grant tucked it back into his breast pocket, “Funny...I seemed to have the same issue.” 

“Well then, it seems we’re two fine men who’ve been stood up,” Sherman jested, trying to keep a serious face. He pushed off from the desk, toe to toe with Grant, “it would almost seem practical if we had dinner together.” 

Those blue eyes stared up at him, a small twinkle in Grant’s eye, and goddammit if those ridiculous thoughts didn’t come back into his head. His brain never knew when to shut up.  

“It would seem so,” Grant conceded, staring at him for a long moment before stepping back. He bounced on the balls of his toes slightly, “Shall we?” 

Walking out into the chilled Memphis air, the two walked side by side, arms brushing together. 

Grant lit up a cigar, puffing on it briefly before blowing out the smoke, “I am sorry Sherman, I shouldn’t let something like that…”

The redhead waved him off, “Water under the bridge. Your father has a big mouth. It gets under your skin.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Well, the next time you get something from him,” Sherman bumped him with his elbow, a small grin on his face, “and it says something idiotic, let me read it and we find a way to laugh about it.”

Grant smiled, “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Or you can burn it.”

“Everything doesn’t have to be burned Sherman.”

“Makes it easier to ignore though.”

#my fic #ulysses s grant #william tecumseh sherman #this is really dumb but whatever i had fun #and yes writing a flustered grant was tons of fun #i had to stop shoving other random aides in here #but i like writing about grant's staff lol

[bioshock4k]

i hope this still applies so. (asks u abt bioshock) what are some of your favorite parts of each bioshock game…. and im curious about what makes infinite bad

YES IT DOES it always applies. always <3

ummm levelwise my fav level from the first game is point prometheus ^_^ its soooo fun to play even though i get so lost every time and its so rewarding i luv it so much. its also the richest storywise theres so much lore abt the little sisters that you can gather there its AWESOME. for bio2 my favorite level to LOOK at is dionysus park its so pretty..... soo tedious though :T my fav level to explore is siren alley though even though its SO much harder than it has any reason to be UGHHH and then well my fav level to play is persephone (both inner and outer) bcus well 1) its kind of fun to look at everything and 2) i LOVEEE fighting alongside my daughter its so awesome ^_^

infinite is bad for sooooo many reasons mostly being that its like super racist. not in that 'its set in 1912 so theres gonna be racism' its more in the fact that it presents a 'racists and anti racists are the same.... black people are bad if they want to rise against their oppresors.... also the ONLY named black woman is going to die (kill herself? maybe? idk) for a white woman and then its going to be revealed later on that this was completely unecessary and she died for literally no reason..... oh and btw the player character was involved in the genocide of natives (specifically the wounded knee battle) and he was stated to be the most violent killer there and he was only so violent because his fellow soldiers or whatever asked if he was native or something (btw its fine that he killed natives becsuse hes like 1/16th native) and alsoooo he has a 50% chance of becoming a facist in any timeline ALSOOOO he sold his daughter for drinking money and hes never really criticized for this...... alsooo theres two characters who are literally alternate universe versions of themself and they are implied to have incestuous relations......... and the main female character is like some disney princess magical smart and is for SOME reason self conscious about her missing half of a pinky even though she was raised in a tower completely by herself safe for the giant mechanical BIRD that protected her (who she also hated and later killed) and shes weirdly needlessly sexualized even though shes like 17 and also in a dlc where shes apparently only 19 shes gonna get MASSIVELY inflated boobies and also she has no powers anymore and she cant fight because shes a woman she HAS to stealth it' and a lot more ^_^

#genocide tw #ask2tag #racism tw #incest tw #azkz #bio pozting

[trashahime]

I wrote this up for a friend who thinks I am deranged for thinking Yashahime is all or partially an illusion and that the OG crew are "playing" the villians. I compiled this partial list of evidence for him and thought I'd share it here.

*

I could be wrong about it being an illusion but I think there have been significant hints to the "unreality" of Yashahime. If it was just one or two clues, I'd be doubtful too. But there's so many and they have expressed the same idea in different ways.

There's the obvious line about dreams and reality in the opening. Also...

In the show, twitter, website and interviews Sunrise has made references to:

Acting/theater: several mentions of curtains closing/opening, called the Feudal Era a "stage", Konton referred to a "show", the "black curtain" in the title of episode 14. Merch of Moroha and Setsuna dramatically posing, looking like they are "acting". And so much more in this regard.

Masks/fake guises: heavy use of masks in the show, including having the extra two demon slayers in theirs almost constantly amd needlessly. It's mentioned in the end song. Discussion of hiding behind icons in Uru's interview. Yotsume's human face looks exactly like an Okina mask. They also posted a photo of Konton on twitter where his eyes are completely in shadow, making his face look like a mask. There's also a twitter pic of Towa with wigs.

False representations: Photos on twitter of hobby shops that sell toy models, or action figures. Also merch of characters posed with miniatures of other characters.

Osamu Tezuka: I recently posted I thought Yashahime was a homage to him. He is famous for his "star system" where he casts his characters into different roles in his various works.

Treekyo: There was no real need to make the Tree of Ages to look like Kikyo. I think the entire point was to give a significant hint in the anime itself that people can look like someone they are not.

They have provided the following visual evidence:

In one scene, Towa's room looks like she just moved in. It messy and full of boxes. Later it's neat, sparse and devoid of any personal items, like a guest room would be. I think it's a clue that Yashahime is not reflecting reality.

On the twitter they posted a picture of Moroha without fangs, and shortly thereafter posted one where she has them.

Relatedly, in the show Yashahime likes to do close ups of Moroha's claws but in her profile pic, she has human nails. Lady Kyuki has the same with her feet in her profile picture. One foot has human toes, the other has claws.

In the scene where the girls return to the past, the tree of ages is briefly lit up and appears to be covered in vines. They are not there when the glow goes away.

This is just a personal feeling but everything in Yashahime feels like it takes place relatively close to the tree of ages. If its not an entire illusion then it could be that the girls are in limited area "movie set" type environment.

In the Feudal Era there are very background characters unless they serve some purpose. Yashahime feels weirdly "unpopulated" I guess you could say.

There's a bunch more, mostly little things that would be too tedious to list. The above points are what I think are the most compelling.

*

I have a second part for why I think the missing characters are playing the villians but this post is already long and I need to go to work. It contains additional illusion evidence too. I will post it later tonight or tomorrow.

Part 2

#inuyasha #hanyo no yashahime #yashahime

[yandere-daydreams]

Hi!!! just saw ur post that requests are opened (08/11 (GMT+8)). If it isn’t please ignore this and i’m sorry. May I request that you write some Denki??? He’s a really good boy. Maybe about how he would dress this darling up? Like clothes, makeup, etc. I imagine him to really love it when his darling is wearing his shirt and some underwear but also when his darling is all dolled up! Thank you!

I’ve written too many soft boys, lately. I’ll have to change that eventually, but tonight is not that night.

TW: Delusional Behavior, Demonization and (Slight) Stockholm Syndrome. 

~

You didn’t like halternecks. The ones that needed to be tied manually, if you were going to be specific. You felt like you were being choked, and you didn’t understand why people couldn’t just agree that sleeves were obviously more practical than a fancy little bow that would be coming lose all night and stressing you out, and that didn’t even touch on your feelings towards the absentee back. You didn’t like halternecks, you hated halternecks, but…

But Kaminari liked them.

So, you were wearing one.

He kissed the back of your head as he finished tying it, the knot left purposefully slack, just barely covering the nape of your neck. Your hair had already been straightened and re-curled to perfection, make-up done more thoroughly and more skillfully than you’d ever cared to do it yourself. You hadn’t enjoyed ‘dressing up’, not before Kaminari came along. The process always seemed tedious, boring, a waste of time, even if the event called for it. But, he’d already made it clear what’d happen if you didn’t play along.

The burn-scars barely covered by his chosen outfit’s heightened neckline was proof enough of that.

“Isn’t my baby pretty?” Kaminari chuckled, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. You’d been trying to avoid looking at your reflection, a task that was more difficult than it should’ve been, considering the vanity you’d been positioned in front of. Turning away wasn’t an option, not with your wrists cuffed behind the chair’s spine, so you were forced to keep your head bowed and your eyes narrowed, as closing them would’ve ruined your mascara. Your shoulders were tense, your body far past sore, but the stiffness was better than seeing whatever his sick version of ‘pretty’ happened to be. When you didn’t answer, Kaminari only laughed, cupping your chin and tilting your head back as he spoke. “You’re always so professional at galas, don’t you think this’ll be fun? I can’t wait for the reporters to see how cute my sidekick is, these days.”

You bit your cheek, scanning over the person in front of you. It looked unnatural, uncanny, like a picture someone had painted based on a description, albeit a detailed on. Kaminari had always gone all-out whenever he had the excuse to, but it was… odd, seeing the same style imposed onto you. It was all the same ingredients, the same glistening lipstick and abused eyeliner and exaggerated eyeshadow, but they weren’t meant for your features. “Former Sidekick, you mean,” You mumbled, mostly to take your mind off the sight. “I think I tried to quit a few months ago.”

“Don’t be like that, you retired,” He corrected, his tone never wavering. It was hard to keep up with the story he’d strung together, the ever-changing, ever-evolving plotline impossible to follow on his worst days and needlessly complicated on his best. He hummed, gently, turning away to retrieve something a little too shiny from the jewelry box on his bed, and you hoped it would be the latter, tonight. “We decided to concentrate on our relationship, remember? Pro-Hero work was just too stressful for someone like you.”

“Won’t going to a Pro-Hero function raise some questions, then?” You’d given up on trying to talk him out of believing you wanted this weeks ago, when he’d made it clear that such a thing would lead to more suffering than it was worth. Trying to ask for help was useless, too, Kaminari clinging to your waist and interrupting any conversation you tried to have on your own, not that he let you speak to anyone else very often. You’d be lucky if you were allowed to greet your old co-workers without his assistance, if you were being honest with yourself. 

Kaminari didn’t seem worried, either way. Sometimes, you wondered if he even knew you’d ever tried to get away, in the first place. “Oh, is someone feeling shy again?” The question was punctuated by another giggle, another kiss, undoubtedly leaving a black-stain on your jawline. “I’ll be happy to explain everything, and it’ll be better this way. Things’ll be simpler, without all those rules and regulations.”

“I… I’m just not sure if…” Accidently, you glanced up, meeting eyes with that thing one more time. Part of you wondered if that was how Kaminari saw you, if he viewed you as someone other than the person you were. But, as soon as those thoughts surfaced, you swallowed them back down and fixed your attention on how badly the light sparkling off his choker hurt your eyes. “It’s just… I don’t know if-”

“We’ll only be there for an hour, I promise.” This time, he stepped in front of you, cupping your cheeks just lightly enough to avoid smudging the blush and highlighter smeared along your cheekbones. “I want everyone to see how beautiful you can be, under the right care.”

You cringed, averting your eyes and fighting back the temptation to think about his words. Instead, you simply bit your cheek and focused on how smothering halter-tops could be.

#yandere #Yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere scenerio #boku no hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #yandere boku no hero academia imagines #my hero academia imagines #yandere my hero academia #bnha imagines #yandere my hero academia imagines #yandere bnha #yandere bnha imagines #denki x reader #yandere denki #yandere denki x reader #yandere kaminari #yandere kaminari x reader #kaminari x reader #possessive #obsesion #obsessive #jealousy

[retphienix]

So this was an offbeat game for the blog even by, well, the blog’s standards- but I’m happy I came back to this.

LostMagic (and yes, it’s actually spelled that way with no space, I learned that mid-playthrough and I’m FURIOUS that that’s the case) isn’t a game I’d put high on many lists, that’s for sure.

But, it doesn’t remotely feel like it was trying to earn any such spot.

It’s what it is.

A gimmicky DS game.

An RTS RPG Monster taming stylus focused DS title.

It’s BIZARRE, and perhaps that’s why it stuck with me so deeply over these years.

I only ever got to like MAYBE chapter 2 back in the day since I only had a few hours with the game, but even still it’s been in the back of my head all these years.

So much so that the second I got my first job it was one of the games I had to go out and buy to see what I was missing, and I’m glad to have it in my collection now (this wasn’t a recent purchase btw lol).

I didn’t have much to say through the playthrough, and I very quickly realized there wasn’t much reason in capturing much of the game, well, at all- because combat was almost always the exact same and the standout fights were not interesting to watch they were standout because they were unbelievably tedious to win or had interesting concepts that you grasp in a few seconds and don’t really need like 10 screenshots or a video to understand-

and the story was. Well.

It’s been a long, and I mean LONG time since I’ve played a game with this grade of story.

That sort of “We put dialogue and plot beats in the game as if it has a story but we put like 4% effort into making it worth anything at all” kind of story is here.

It’s Fox Kids cartoon level but even less present, and honestly it’s a little charming because of that but I won’t be offering much praise for that.

When the gameplay is one note and the story is empty then you better enjoy that one note.

Thankfully, I do. I don’t LOVE it, but it was charming to play (not read) back in the day and I found it really charming to revisit today.

Casting spells is fun- but the underlying code that recognizes your drawing is lacking and some of the runes chosen are extremely difficult to get to register (especially the way I played this title which is an unfair metric but this criticism remained back in the day so it stands).

Capturing monsters will always be good and it’s pretty nice here too with the only flaw there being that the encounter balancing itself is, well, too generous to only one part of monsters and that’s it.

Defensive monsters? Flying? Capturing? Offensive and fast? Ranged? Very little of this ACTUALLY matters because the game bends over backwards to make the key encounters (bosses, since everything else is pretty easy) reward you for only one playstyle: Fire vs fire.

Since monsters absorb the element they are, and boss fights are (usually) only difficult because the boss spams powerful elemental magic- well- the solution to the biggest puzzle the game puts before you is ALWAYS “Bring the same element”. No deeper thought goes in so capturing monsters can be summed up as “A hundred options, and you only need 5″.

Now the true best feature is a surprise to be honest.

I always remembered the monsters as the standout part, with magic being fun, but no. The standout feature of this game is COMBINING MAGIC!

As my time with the game draws to a close the only thing I find myself wishing I did more of and experienced more of is the magic because combining magic is needlessly extensive and unexpectedly interesting and I’d have it no other way.

It’s so fun to just combine some runes, have a rough idea of what that will do, and then either being spot on or pleasantly surprised.

But I’ve done my ramble.

Is LostMagic a masterpiece?

Hell no. 

I found so many moments playing this to be annoying as all heck! And by the end I’m left with no real meat on the story and no real intense joy or feelings of success due to the gameplay.

It’s alright though. I’d call it a good game. Heck, I’d tell someone to try it if they had the chance just because drawing runes for spells feels novel in the right ways more often than not.

I like the game. I’m glad I came back to it and can finally say I beat that game I played once as a kid lol.

#RetPlays #LostMagic #Lost Magic

[victoodles]

The Look

I had a lot of fun writing this and now I’m addicted to writing for Chief Hopper. I also really like music from the 80′s and while that isn’t a focal point, it still was cute to imagine a scenario jamming out to Roxette with my main man. Just some fun nonsense, enjoy!

“I’m an officer in training, though I guess that’s just a fancy way of sayin’ I’m your new assistant for the time being. Regardless, it’s a pleasure to meetcha’!”

Jim Hopper is momentarily taken aback by your overly sunny disposition, finding it too bright and warm for the given situation. It’s Monday, approximately eight in the morning - no one should be that…cheerful on a fucking Monday.

But there you are, standing in the door of his office beaming like you won the goddamn lottery.

For some indescribable reason, it’s grating and makes his heart rate increase. He chalks it up to irritation...for now.

“I’m sorry, run that by me again?” Hopper asks incredulously as he runs a hand through his hair; it’s too early for this crap, even if it comes in the form of a cute, sweet, lovely-

Wait, focus Hopper!

You’re still looking pleased as punch, not bothered none by his grousing. “I’m aiming to join the force! Yours specifically but it’s still a work in progress, so I was assigned to shadow you for the time being. But like I said-“

“Yeah, yeah assistant or whatever. I got that much. But I don’t really have the time or patience to be some newbie’s babysitter.” The words come out harsher than he meant for them to but you’re still not deterred. You just continue to smile that same breathtaking enthusiastic smile his way and his heart insists on beating faster than should be normal. All that smoking might finally be catching up with him.

“I’m here for whatever you need, Chief!” You chirp, giving him a mock salute in an attempt to alleviate the tension. While being a glorified secretary wasn’t an ideal position, hopefully your tenacity would shine through to the Hawkin’s chief of police.

Hopper cocks an eyebrow at you, bemused, and then sighs heavily in defeat. He could already tell you were the type that wouldn’t take no for an answer and clearly you wouldn’t back down from this.

Great, just what I needed.

“Fine whatever,” he grumbles, pulling a full folder of reports from a drawer. He drops them to his desk with a gentle thud and you eye the papers curiously, awaiting further orders whatever they may be.

“I need you to go through these case files. All of them.” Hopper instructs with the same sternness of a scolding father. What was that saying about old habits?

“Cross the t’s and dot the i’s. Make sure everything is in order, got that?”

You’re positively radiating with an energy that Hopper simply cannot comprehend considering the gravity of the task he’s assigned.  

She’s a strange duck.

Of that much he is sure of at least.

Eagerly you take the file, fingertips brushing against his own briefly and Hopper feels a heat rushing to his cheeks like some lovelorn school boy. You don’t seem to be phased (of course not it’s just a simple interaction with a pretty girl Hop) and he mentally reprimands himself for acting so needlessly foolish.

“Rodger dodger Captain! Er, I mean Chief!” You laugh melodically at your own witticism that not only catches his attention but that of the entire office as well. Hopper is sure he’s dying when the erratic thumping in his chest rears its ugly head again.

Quickly he decides to dismiss you with a wave of his hand, the other attempting to cover the red now dusting his cheeks that you (thankfully) don’t notice. He doesn’t need his first impression to be more humiliating than he thinks it already is. You take your leave with another playful salute before turning on your heels to saunter to your new desk.

Hopper deduces that your eccentricity will soon run him into an early grave. And now he had to have a sit down with Flo about not letting just anybody waltz into his office at any given time unannounced. Especially someone as peculiar as you.

This new girl is gonna be a problem.

And yet...

Does Hopper take a quick peek at the way your pencil skirt hugs your ass while you walk?

Yes, yes he does.

Does it amplify his enthusiasm about working with you?

Only a little bit.

***

Summer has transitioned into Winter, leaving behind bathing suits and sunshine in exchange for sweaters and snow. The station has followed suit and is aptly decorated to show even the Hawkins Police Department has the holiday spirit in them.

It’s mostly your doing, personally going out of your way to cut and hang handmade paper snowflakes around the office. That along with colorful strings of Christmas lights. 

Hopper still twitches whenever he sees them after Joyce’s crazed epiphany that lights could somehow help her communicate with Will from the Upsidedown way back when. But he doesn’t have the heart (or the mental capacity) to tell explain that to you.

Instead he revels in your holiday giddiness, masked behind a scowl because the poor fool is still in denial that he even likes you.

You like like her, as El had so fondly put it over dinner one night. Thankfully he can successfully hush her up with a tickle bout.

The same solution sadly doesn’t apply for his nosy secretary. Hopper contemplates firing Flo after she teased him for blushing when you placed a Santa hat snugly on his head, insisting he stop being “such a Grinch”. He quickly realizes that would be “unwarranted” and the idea is soon discarded.  

It’s the middle of the afternoon, and Hopper has a slew of frantic calls to deal with much to his chagrin. In order to do that and achieve some semblance of success with it all, Hopper needs papers.

Your papers specifically.

Hours ago, he had assigned you to organize citizen report forms for him so he could properly assess and assist each member of lovely Hawkins Indiana. Missing cats, rambunctious teenage hooligans, all mundane things really. And as usual, you took your work with a grin and excited nod.

Hopper began to enjoy the warmth that you exuded. And the curve of your lips when you smiled. And-

Enough, Hop! You creep…

Now he was ready to welcome the distraction from another onslaught of racing thoughts. About you, no less! But he couldn’t do that without that work, that you usually would have immaculately finished within the hour.

Sometimes you would sign them with a pink heart.

Not relevant!

Today, however, it was almost half past one and still no papers. No bubbly entrance, no perfectly alphabetized folders paired the same cup of black coffee for him. Not so much as a peep from your direction.

Weird, Hopper thinks as he pushes himself up from his desk with a grunt. He might as well investigate, otherwise he would have nothing else to do today. Otherwise he would’ve loved to procrastinate this for as long as humanly possible. Who would’ve thought Wednesday afternoons would be slow.

Hopper steps out of his office and scans the bullpen, neglecting to return Flo’s usual greeting. Almost immediately he spots you hunched over at your desk, head nestled too comfortably on a stack of papers. 

His feet are carrying him with a stomp before he can parse what he’s really seeing.

“Go easy on her, Chief,” Flo urges in a hushed voice. The request is again ignored.

Is she...sleeping?

It would appear so.

A cup of now cold coffee sits abandoned as you continue to snore with an adorable dopey smile on your face. You look carefree, relaxed.

Cute.

Hopper shoos that last thought away before he bends down to your level. He would not have any of his staff lazily snooze the day away, on his watch no less!

“Hey! Sleeping Beauty,” he nearly booms in your ear, instantly causing you to jolt up in your seat. Your usual pristine appearance is now disheveled: a messy bun now atop your head, blazer discarded, and the top few buttons of your blouse precariously unbuttoned.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t l-

He looked.

God dammit.

You look up at him drowsily, still not awake enough to realise the consequences of your stupidity.

“Huh,” is all you have to offer in your defense. It doesn’t seem to placate him.  

When you notice his annoyance (finally), you rush to break through your sleep addled fog. Quickly, you sit up straight and smooth away loose hair before meeting his glare.

“M-morning chief,” you say sheepishly, daring to wave hello to him. The stink eye treatment continues.

“It’s 1:30 p.m,” he responds back cooly, unamused by your jests.

You genuinely look surprised, and turn to the clock ticking idly on the wall above. “Afternoon?!” A few sniggers can be heard around the office.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry Chief,” you apologize sincerely. Hopper doesn’t even think he’s seen you frown before and now you’re saying sorry for mistakes you never make. He’s taken aback for a moment and you continue to express your regret.

“I came in early to decorate for the holidays. Like, super early,” the emphasis is accurately dramatized with a yawn. Hopper’s rigidness softens. He knew you were responsible for their newfound winter wonderland, but he didn’t realize how much work you actually put into it.

Aw Christ.

Hopper clears his throat. “Y-you did all of this,” he asks incredulously. He’s seen some freaky shit in his career but right now he is truly shocked by your dedication. For something that he previously found tedious and unnecessary.

“Yeah,” you admit shyly, a tinge of pink adorning your cheeks. Hopper notices, and pretends he doesn’t think it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. “I just thought it would be cute.”

Cute?

Was it really that simple? You just wanted to spread some Christmas cheer and it tuckered you out in the process?

Hopper brings a hand to his lips to hide the smile that’s starting to form there.

As soon as it comes, it leaves and he composes himself. He doesn’t know what comes over him (is it love?) and he places his hand on your shoulder, patting it with a huff.

The entire department watches wide-eyed at the interaction.

They’ve been placing bets (secretly) on when and where Hopper finally decides to ask you out. It doesn’t seem like today’s going to be that day, but it’s a step in the right direction. Powell curses under his breath and pulls out a dollar and hands it to Callahan. Flo smiles to herself.

“Just-“ Hopper takes a deep breath in. It’s hard to focus when you’re looking at him with those doe eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Just make sure I get it before the end of the day.”

Your apprehension melts away and it seems Hopper has succeeded in bringing your smile back.

Merry Christmas to me.

“Rodger dodger, Chief,” you chirp before turning your attention back to your own desk, already hyper focused on your work.

You don’t see the small smile he sends your way as he returns back to his office.

Fifty nine minutes later, on the dot (a new record for you!) you bring the fruits of your labor back to Hopper’s office. It seems you just missed him unfortunately, leaving the folder on an empty desk. You quite enjoy the small interactions shared between the two during the lulls of the work day, progressively getting longer and more friendly in nature.

You cross paths with him on the way out however, exchanging smiles and hellos as you both return to your designated posts.

On your desk, you find a fresh cup of coffee made just the way you like it: cream and two sugars.

It’s signed with a heart.

***

Indiana snow storms have devolved into gentle flurries, snowflakes idly cascading down a thin veil of snow covers the nearly empty streets.

Nearly empty.

Where else would Hopper find himself late on a Thursday evening then on his way to a local watering hole. El found herself at Max’s house for the evening, and Hopper’s restless boredom soon gets the better of him. Nothing a cold glass of beer can’t fix.

He, in turn, finds himself in town, meandering his way to a dive-bar at the end of the block. Neon lights flicker dully in the dusty window, barely illuminating the bartender and lone figure inside.

Seems someone else had a similar idea, sneaking out into the night for a pint and handfuls of shitty peanuts.  

The door opens with a soft jingle and through the haze of lingering cigarette smoke and dim lights, Hopper spots you at the bar. You’re as perky as ever, chatting the bartender’s poor ear off about this and that. Hopper, childishly, is jealous.

In your hand is a can of cheap beer - Schlitz to be exact. 

Hopper’s favorite.

Be still my beating heart.

You notice him shortly after, and your smile practically lights up the room.

“Chief!” You call out with a raise of your drink. The bartender, (Chris - or something, Hopper can’t bother to remember) breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of a normal customer. It seems no grouch can ruin your good time.

“Chief,” Chris greets (with considerably less enthusiasm) and slides him a coaster. Hopper pays his greeting no mind and devotes his attention solely to you.

You look significantly more casual, blouse and skirt replaced with jeans and a flannel, hair loose and falling to your shoulder in gentle curls. Despite the shift in appearance, you still hold yourself the same way as you do at work - poised.

Hopper admires that about you.

Among other things.

“Hey,” he greets. Before he can get another word in, make some lame comment about the weather or what the cat dragged in, you’re already patting the stool next to your eagerly.

“Sit with me!”

“W-what?” Hopper responds (stupidly).

You’re already ordering him a beer, disregarding his confusion. “You heard me. Unless you just came out in the snow to say ‘hey’ and scram?” Your voice has a teasing lilt to it that enchants Hopper. He wants to hear more of it

“Just doing my nightly rounds,” he jokes back, “but since I’m here I might as well hang around. Make sure you’re not getting into any trouble.” It’s rare for Hopper’s bark to have no bite, just playful nips. He appreciates the relaxed atmosphere your presence envelops him in.

“Unfortunately for you then, you’ll have to stick around for a bit. I have a grand scheme in the works that involves drinking with the chief of police,” you say with a mischievous smirk. “Gotta keep me from ‘getting into trouble’.” Hopper can’t help but guffaw at your attempt to impersonate him. It’s comical and endearing all the same.

“Sounds mighty serious,” apprehension dissolves as he sits down next to you, the old chair creaking as he turns toward you. Your knees practically touch and neither of you seem to notice or care.

Handing him his respective can of beer, you knock yours against his with a harmonious clink.

You do that for the first.

And then the second.

And the third.

With each drink comes a new story shared between you.

You tell him about your time at the police academy. He tells you about his continuing struggles with El and her pesky boyfriend, Mike.

You like hard rock and your old Suburban.

He loves hound dogs but is too busy to actually get one.

Drinks keep on pouring.

Time passes effortlessly, bleeding into midnight and your laughter echoes throughout the emptiness of the bar.

“Oh Chris isn’t always this bad. You know sometimes, he’ll let me order a mimosa at 8 p.m and he won’t give me a hard time” you titter, earning an eye roll from the aforementioned bartender. Hopper fights to contain his chortling.

“You’re the only one who orders it and you’re the only reason I have to keep stocking champagne.” Chris grumbles, cleaning a glass a bit more aggressively than necessary.

“Well you should be thanking her for the extra business then,” Hopper adds with a gruff laugh. Chris doesn’t seem to find it amusing. He opts to turn on the small radio behind the bar, hoping to drown out your nonsense. with some music

It works for a little bit.

A little bit.

Until Roxette starts playing...

Then all Hell breaks loose in the form of an ecstatic cheer of, “I. Love. This. Song!”

Hopper really can’t contain his enjoyment now.

Upbeat pop music from a second-rate radio fuels you now.

“And I go la la la la la!” 

You’re booming now, swinging your head from side to side to the beat. Your hair is wild now from the throes of your merriment. Hopper likes it even more this way.

He joins in from time to time, singing a lyric from the chorus (poorly he thinks) but takes more pleasure in watching your one woman performance.

She’s got the look indeed.

Chris regards you with a cocked eyebrow and looks to the chief, shaking his head. “She’s something else,” he says with a dry laugh.

Hopper is too busy watching you hurrying to the whirring jukebox now, a hand full of quarters and promises of “you’re gonna love this song,” on your tongue as the first one fades out.

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles.

“Yeah,” he says reverently, “she really is.”

#vic's fics! #stranger things #jim hopper x reader #i love my thicc police daddy

[kithenremodeling]

Your kitchen's Design - Can there be a New Kitchen inside your Future? Take the initial Steps to Accomplishment - Planning

A lot of my clients have got, unfortunately, initiated the plan of their kitchen with no understanding of the span of what is definitely involved in the process, in the case of design, budget, schedule and other issues. In such cases, our design system together, was disheartening for the client in addition to for me. As a result, this post will clarify the method so that you will have an opportunity to become better knowledgeable before you begin your your kitchen's project, thereby keeping away from uninformed decisions or perhaps spending time and/or revenue needlessly.

kitchen design

This article is simply not about the specific style and design features of your house and how to model it. There are many superior resources available for that will. Instead, it is for the process of designing a kitchen. It is geared towards eliminating help in getting a top of your head start and to open anyone who is, or even might be, embarking with the design of a innovative or remodeled your kitchen, to the first and the most important step : Planning.

Designing your kitchen for a brand-new or existing property is a big expenditure in time, money along with energy and it is usually stressful and tricky. Unfortunately, some distributors and TV applications don't like to obsess on this aspect thereby mislead the consumer concerning the actual amount of time together with effort that is required. Despite the fact creating a new kitchen area is challenging, a lot of clients say of the fact that results are more than well worth the effort. I hope that your information provided here will be a helpful factor toward having most people well on your way to somewhat of a successful project.

Before you start the process of creating your new kitchen, you have to set the key elements for the design. I can recommend that you engage a competent kitchen designer which not only designs that cabinet layout, nevertheless designs every component the kitchen and is needed throughout the entire job, so that the final result would have been a cohesive design this reflects optimum purpose and style. That designer will not only make it easier to create a beautiful, useful, kitchen but can save you significant time and additionally money and you will the two have fun developing a person's joint creation. We trust that below will get your energy going and thoughts auto racing, in preparation to get actually embarking when your journey. In addition to, it "is" a good journey!

THE KITCHEN ASSOCIATED WITH TODAY

The kitchen comes with traditionally been a very important room in the house due to the fact cooking and discussing food has long been middle to family existence. Meals will always be significant, but cooking provides, in some cases, significantly switched. The grocery marketplace has focused on substitutes for home foods and hundreds of dinning establishments have incorporated "to-go" in their business model. When we cook typically or not, living rooms remain the foundation associated with family life since it is where most people live and acquire. It is where many of us start and terminate our days in addition to share the information our day.

Today's kitchen sets serve more functions than ever before: entertainment target, home office, cooking along with dining space. This electronics for an pleasure center may include TV SET, music and connection to the web and the office location may have a workplace, files, computer together with bookshelves.

THE FIRST TIPS

Determine with your friends and family, who uses this kitchen and precisely how, and discuss this conveniences you would like to possess in the new type. Make a scrapbook from articles and insights on kitchens and additionally kitchen features of which interest you in addition to photographs of decks you like. Evaluate the way in which and when you prepare a meal, where you provide meals to exactly who and how typically you entertain along with how you entertain. Stock your dishes, cutlery, serving pieces, pots and pan sets, linens, and your normal grocery storage conditions so that you can be sure that the popular design accommodates all sorts of things.

It seems that no matter what time you plan for a remodeling undertaking, it usually takes for a longer period than you predicted. For a complete transform, the down time at the time of construction can be at the very least two or three months and far longer, depending upon your size and amount of the project. Your household needs to eat at the same time. So , before manufacturing starts make arrangements to help store, heat together with clean up, enough and keep you going prior to the kitchen is once again on-line. Many of your clients who have previously had the good fortune to get a bar sink inside family room, have transported in the old wine fridge and microwave close bar sink which combination becomes a interim kitchen all through construction of the cutting edge one. The benefit to this is which it provides a great explanation for eating out on a regular basis!

THE KITCHEN FOOTPRINT

Shall we start with the space available for you for the kitchen. Irrespective of whether you are designing for any new home, or simply remodeling in an old one, you are tied to how much space available in which to create ones dream. If the house is fairly small, it is advisable to consider whether or not you may have the option of increasing. You may be able to make this happen in your existing your home and, in a completely new home, very often you've kept time to alter that architectural plan, in the event that needed. In either case, if you possibly could eliminate or move a wall and walls or boost the house to create even more space for the your kitchen's, it will improve the performance and value in the room significantly.

Naturally, if you don't create some sort of addition to the home, and just remove and also relocate a wall(s), you then have infringed upon a contiguous space and lower its size, so that you have to weigh that option is the best in your case. Is it worth letting go the other space to enhance the size of the kitchen? If you ask me, if you can do minus the adjoining space, it happens to be much better to expend that extra space or room to the kitchen.

Whenever you plan to remove or even relocate a wall(s), the key factor to decide is, by which means doing, will you go through a load-bearing position? This occurs as soon as wall(s) is organ of the support system with the structure of the house. Commonly a contractor might determine this. In the event the contractor is unsure, you will need to have a structural engineer examine this structure to make that will determination. If it is neo load-bearing, when you are happy to start construction, your contractor can begin build out the actual per the new system. If it is a load-bearing issue, your local constructing authority will require that you really retain a structural engineer or a architect to design some sort of structural solution designed for removing or shifting the wall(s).

This individual will submit pattern drawings and data of the solution, with the building authority with regard to approval and permit. At receiving the make it possible for, when you are ready to begin the process of construction, the designer and installer can then proceed to build-out the structure each and every the engineer's or simply architect's specifications. It is a process in Ca, based upon the state creating standards, Title per day. The process in the various states is very very much the same.

In any case, once you have determined of whether or not to help you expand or re-configure, you will know the configuration (footprint) of the breathing space that you have available by a horizontal standpoint -- Plan View.

STRAIGHT SPACE

You should also consider precisely what size and shape the room can be from a vertical viewpoint as well. If it is likely to increase the level of the room just by raising, eliminating and altering an existing poor ceiling or soffit, you should seriously consider using this option. The additional position will provide more wooden box storage from the enhanced height of selection cabinets and the living room will become more voluminous which is always much more visually impressive and additionally comfortable. From a engineering standpoint, the load-bearing issues will connect with increasing the room peak just as it relates to moving or removing walls.

Of course, in working with all of these design in addition to construction issues along with decisions that need to become made, you will not come to be alone. Your developer will be the pivotal one that will help you evaluate the possibilities you have available. He or she could produce drawings so that they can visually demonstrate those options and will give advice on which selections are best together with why.

I understand that all sounds extremely tedious and bothersome. In some sense both of these words are a fantastic description of the design/construction process. However , everything that I have outlined on top of is done thousands of moments every day and most of people homeowners have live through and, as a result, depend on the new, beautiful, well-designed, kitchen of their objectives. You notice I talked about "most"! Seriously, a project will be complicated and there will be certain problems. This is basically the nature of type and construction and that's why you should not shift without experienced specialist throughout the process through the very beginning to the stop.

UTILIZING YOUR YOUR KITCHEN'S

Are you an expert cocinero, who does it all: cooking food, baking, barbecuing, and also are you a minimal cook dinner whose main goal should be to just get a food on the table for the home as expeditiously as is feasible, or are you anywhere you want in between? Do you consistently cook by yourself or even do you often have friends and family help with the creating meals? Do you often show your and all amount into the kitchen whereas munching on your Brie between sips with chardonnay? Do you cook often and wish a marble spot for that purpose? Your questions can do not delay - on.

Some shoppers have large, renowned, homes and enliven frequently and/or get large families. They will have someone undertake the cooking for your children. Some of these types of initiatives may need the full treatment method, such as a butler's kitchen or walk-in kitchen, two islands, a couple refrigerators, two dishwashers, two microwave stoves, a wine cooler, some other beverage cooler, some built-in espresso machines, sink, prep-sink and additionally bar sink in addition to glass-door cabinets to show the family heirloom the far east, etc .

Most people require something drastically less than all of this, although I bring it upwards just to emphasize which how you utilize ones own kitchen has a tough influence on the style and design and therefore, as I talked about, you should think about how you will want to operate along with what you want to accommodate in the kitchen. You can start considering what type of appliances together with features you would like. Imagine the three key work areas of your kitchen: Food Prepare (refrigerator and sink), Cooking (cook top notch, oven and microwave) and Cleanup (sink, dishwasher and recycling). You will find a myriad of designs and options available for you to and your designer will probably need to carefully consider. A lot more planning, of course!

THE SIMPLEST WAY & WHERE YOU CAN EXPECT TO EAT

You may love to be able to eat with the kitchen by having an tropical island with seating. How big the island that room will fit will determine how many you can seat. Seats at an tropical isle reduces the hard drive space usage available in the is, so the balance with the kitchen storage must absorb this decrease. You can basically sit down at three circumvent heights: chair top (29-30"), counter level (36") and standard height (42").

Should you have an adjacent dinner room, you may want to take there in the curiosity of having more storage devices in the island. If ever the room will provide it, you may much like the idea of a built-in booth in the breakfast time room or house, in lieu of a typical family table and chairs. Various clients like to have the choice of eating with both the breakfast location and at the of the islands in the kitchen. You might find there is no breakfast room in your home and the dining room functions as both lunchtime room and kitchen curtains. In any case, you should make these and other opportunities careful consideration.

THE DESIGN FASHION

There are many design motifs available to you: Traditional, Present day, Contemporary, Country, Craftsman, Cape Cod, and so on The design motif you select will definitely heavily influence selecting all of the other parts in the kitchen. A cabinet style and additionally finish have the most profitable influence on the model style of the kitchen. When i mentioned, you can start as a result of collecting magazine images of kitchens to obtain a feel for what we do and don't just like. They will give you superb ideas for all important things kitchen. Stock, semi-custom or custom shelves have many different versions and finishes to provide and of course, custom boxes can provide any pattern and finish.

KEEPING ISSUES

The planning operation will continue right up until every aspect of the whole kitchen design is normally selected and stated. However , once you have organized your footprint in addition to vertical space, how i want to utilize a kitchen, how along with where you want to feed on, and your design design, you are more than half manner there. The planning approach continues, on a small scale, as you are helping to make more decisions around all of the items together with issues that make up earnings kitchen design.

Types: Do you often create spaghetti and pasta, which requires sealing a large pot along with about four to six quarts of water? If you have, you should have a pot-filler over the cook major or range prime. Since there are simply two of you and it ingests a long time to clog the dishwasher which causes the area wash the dishes, you should think about a two cabinet dishwasher which lets you wash one bathroom drawer at a time, thereby conserving energy and to provide clean dishes again. Do you prefer a great air switch within the countertop for the garbage disposal or do you want that switch to be over the backsplash? Do you want a good garbage disposal inside the prep sink and also the main sink? Are you wanting soft close within your cabinet drawers? Would you like the idea of au cours de lighting above this island? Do you want some sort of filtered water method? The questions just on!

The various lists you will be encountering within designing your new your kitchen are as follows. This approach listing of categories can provide an idea of what exactly is to come. I decided not to say it was painless!

References Kitchen https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kitchen

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

I could probably just make another New Horizons ramble post type thing but all I’m gonna say for now is that someone in the server I’m in had Fauna in boxes, who’s become a dream villager of mine since despite how normal she is I think she’s cute as fuck and I want her, and then we agreed to trade, but I had to empty a plot first, so I said fuck it and did the villager removal time travel thing, except I just got shitty RNG and it took so fucking long that I got impatient, gave up, apologised to the person with Fauna (they found a better buyer at least so good for them) and now my island’s fucking covered in weeds. I fucking hate everything about how moving villagers in and out works. The fact that your own villagers moving out is something for which the prompt happens at basically random and your own influence can feel completely negligible is bullshit as fuck and adopting other peoples’ villagers when they’re in boxes is fucking shit because of it, it makes no fucking sense to me that I can have a visitor on my campsite and they can instant kick out anyone but a boxed villager can’t do the same thing. And the fact that if you do get someone in your own island in boxes you’ve only got 2 days to replace them else the plot’ll just be autofilled by some rando, it’s complete bullshit. Why can’t boxed villagers kick people out. Why is moving out your own villagers so hard - complaining to Isabelle does literally nothing, you can’t send them hatemail since they’ll respond positively to everything, and apparently abusing them with your bug net is actually less effective than just no interaction at all, which is the least intuitive fucking thing ever. And again, it’s up to the RNG anyway. The fact that I had 3 villagers I actually kinda like and am nice to ask me to move out before fucking Soleil who I was constantly being mean to is ridiculous, and like I was fortunate to get Biskit as a campsite visitor and replace her via that, but I still savescummed that because they just choose a villager to kick out at random and like, I don’t want Sprocket to leave I want rid of fucking Soleil, why don’t I get a say in who leaves. And I get why I don’t, the game’s for kids and you need to structure it in a way where it doesn’t feel like you’re forcing villagers out - that’s why they don’t ask you to leave and you say yes or no, they tell you they’re thinking about whether or not they should leave and you’re just encouraging them to do what’s best for them. But even with it needing to be framed like that Nintendo surely you should still allow us a better system than this, as it is now dealing in villagers is just needlessly tedious and totally at random. And as you get more and more villagers you want as well it becomes harder and harder to get rid of the ones you don’t want just because of the shitty fucking RNG check, I hate this game. Why is it so exponentially more stressful the moment you’re actually free of any objectives the game gives you.

#animal crossing #10.5.20

[actualmichelle]

A huge pet peeve for me is when management from a different department covers for normal, and they march in making fusses over everything like they have any idea what they are talking about. Because usually they are wrong and just end up delaying and or messing up whatever I'm trying to do. It is so tedious and needlessly irritating...

#personal #negativity #the less big a deal it is the more annoying #bc why are they blowing this tiny thing up to a huge bad??