#assessment helper

[assessmenthelper]

Acing Assessments Made Easy: Your Guide to Online Support

Delve into the realms of academia without the burden of assessments. Let our assessment helper navigate you through the intricate journey of literature analysis and interpretation, ensuring a stress-free and enriching experience. Unlock the world of literature with our expert guidance, leaving assignments in capable hands.

[robinsmith09]

How Can I Improve My TAFE Assessment Answer?

Introduction: TAFE assessments play a crucial role in evaluating students' understanding and application of technical and vocational skills. Whether you're studying business, IT, hospitality, or any other TAFE course, effectively completing assessments is essential for academic success and career advancement. However, mastering the art of crafting high-quality TAFE assessment answers can be challenging. In this article, we'll explore practical strategies to enhance the quality and effectiveness of your TAFE assessment answers.

Understand the Question: One of the most common pitfalls in TAFE assessments is misunderstanding the question. Before diving into your answer, take the time to carefully read and analyze the question. Pay attention to key terms, instructions, and requirements. Break down the question into manageable parts and identify the main points or themes it addresses. This will help you stay focused and ensure that your answer is relevant and on-topic.

Research Thoroughly: A well-researched TAFE assessment answer is a strong TAFE assessment answer. Conduct thorough research using credible sources relevant to the topic of the assessment. This may include textbooks, academic journals, reputable websites, and industry reports. Gather information, evidence, and examples to support your arguments or explanations. Explore different perspectives and viewpoints to provide a well-rounded analysis.

Organize Your Answer: Structure is key to a coherent and effective TAFE assessment answers. Start with a concise introduction that outlines the purpose of your answer and previews the main points you'll be discussing. Use headings and subheadings to divide your answer into sections for clarity. Each paragraph should focus on a single idea or aspect related to the topic, with a clear topic sentence to guide the reader.

Provide Clear Explanations: Clarity is paramount in TAFE assessments. Use clear and concise language to articulate your ideas and explanations. Avoid using overly complex terminology or jargon that may confuse the reader. Provide definitions or explanations for any technical terms or concepts to ensure clarity. Use examples, analogies, or diagrams to illustrate difficult concepts and make them more accessible to the reader.

Use Examples and Evidence: Support your arguments or assertions with relevant examples, evidence, or case studies. This adds credibility to your answer and demonstrates your understanding of the topic. Use real-life examples or empirical data to illustrate key points and strengthen your arguments. Be sure to cite your sources properly according to the referencing style specified by your TAFE institution.

Engage in Critical Analysis: A high-quality TAFE assessment answer goes beyond simply regurgitating information. It requires critical thinking and analysis. Engage critically with the topic by evaluating different viewpoints, arguments, or theories. Consider the strengths and weaknesses of each perspective and provide your own insights or conclusions based on the evidence presented. Don't be afraid to challenge assumptions or offer alternative interpretations where appropriate.

Proofread and Revise: Before submitting your TAFE assessment answer, take the time to proofread and revise it carefully. Look for grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or inconsistencies. Ensure that your answer flows logically and effectively communicates your ideas. Consider seeking feedback from peers, instructors, or tutors to identify areas for improvement and make necessary revisions.

In conclusion, improving your TAFE assessment answers requires attention to detail, critical thinking, and effective communication. By understanding the question, conducting thorough research, organizing your answer, providing clear explanations, using examples and evidence, engaging in critical analysis, and proofreading and revising carefully, you can enhance the quality and effectiveness of your TAFE assessment answers and achieve academic success.

[flimsy-roost]

I realized the other day that the reason I didn't watch much TV as a teenager (and why I'm only now catching up on late aughts/early teens media that I missed), is because I literally didn't understand how to use our TV. My parents got a new system, and it had three remotes with a Venn diagram of functions. If someone left the TV on an unfamiliar mode, I didn't know how to get back to where I wanted to be, so I just stopped watching TV on my own altogether.

I explained all this to my therapist, because I didn't know if this was more related to my then-unnoticed autism, or to my relationship with my parents at the time (we had issues less/unrelated to neurodivergency). She told me something interesting.

In children's autism assessments, a common test is to give them a straightforward task that they cannot reasonably perform, like opening an overtight jar. The "real" test is to see, when they realize that they cannot do it on their own, if they approach a caregiver for help. Children that do not seek help are more likely to be autistic than those that do.

This aligns with the compulsory independence I've noticed to be common in autistic adults, particularly articulated by those with lower support needs and/or who were evaluated later in life. It just genuinely does not occur to us to ask for help, to the point that we abandon many tasks that we could easily perform with minor assistance. I had assumed it was due to a shared common social trauma (ie bad experiences with asking for help in the past), but the fact that this trait is a childhood test metric hints at something deeper.

My therapist told me that the extremely pathologizing main theory is that this has something to do with theory of mind, that is doesn't occur to us that other people may have skills that we do not. I can't speak for my early childhood self, or for all autistic people, but I don't buy this. Even if I'm aware that someone else has knowledge that I do not (as with my parents understanding of our TV), asking for help still doesn't present itself as an option. Why?

My best guess, using only myself as a model, is due to the static wall of a communication barrier. I struggle a lot to make myself understood, to articulate the thing in my brain well enough that it will appear identically (or at least close enough) in somebody else's brain. I need to be actively aware of myself and my audience. I need to know the correct words, the correct sentence structure, and a close-enough tone, cadence, and body language. I need draft scripts to react to possible responses, because if I get caught too off guard, I may need several minutes to construct an appropriate response. In simple day-to-day interactions, I can get by okay. In a few very specific situations, I can excel. When given the opportunity, I can write more clearly than I am ever capable of speaking.

When I'm in a situation where I need help, I don't have many of my components of communication. I don't always know what my audience knows. I don't have sufficient vocabulary to explain what I need. I don't know what information is relevant to convey, and the order in which I should convey it. I don't often understand the degree of help I need, so I can come across inappropriately urgent or overly relaxed. I have no ability to preplan scripts because I don't even know the basic plot of the situation.

I can stumble though with one or two deficiencies, but if I'm missing too much, me and the potential helper become mutually unintelligible. I have learned the limits of what I can expect from myself, and it is conceptualized as a real and physical barrier. I am not a runner, so running a 5k tomorrow does not present itself as an option to me. In the same way, if I have subconscious knowledge that an interaction is beyond my capability, it does not present itself as an option to me. It's the minimum communication requirements that prevent me from asking for help, not anything to do with the concept of help itself.

Maybe. This is the theory of one person. I'm curious if anyone else vibes with this at all.

[comfortscripts]

Santa's Statistics Helper ¬ Michael Gavey

Plot - In the midst of the worst Christmas of your life, you meet an arrogant genius who takes pity on your inability to do statistics. Pairing - Michael Gavey x PsychologyStudent!Reader Notes/Warnings - As a psychology student who hates statistics, this was just based off how my boyfriend explains it to me. Michael is a bit of a sweetheart in this with streaks of arrogance. Not proofread so I apologise in advance if it is terrible Word Count - 1,943

Sunday the 10th of December

“As it helps identify the patterns, the correlation matrix is useful in psychological testing, economics, risk management, and statistics. Calculated as (x(i)-mean(x))*(y(i)-mean(y)) / ((x(i)-mean(x))2 * (y(i)-mean(y))2. This mode- Oh for fuck’s sakes!”

Slamming the monotone textbook of your nightmares closed and shoving it to the opposite side of the oaken table, you breathe a sigh of frustration. Four hours you’ve been trying, 240 minutes of your life spent in a lonely library struggling to grasp the difference between a correlation matrix and covariance matrix. If someone told you when you picked psychology that you’d be sacrificing your Christmas to study for some pathetic quantitative methodologies’ module, you would have switched your career pathway to dogwalker.

Unfortunately, you aren’t a bloody psychic so here you sit with red rimmed eyes, frizzing hair from repeatedly tugging at it, and longing for being home watching The Polar Express. A string of swears partnered with the shuffling of papers acted as your soundtrack for the next few minutes as you attempted to build back up your confidence.

“You made it this far; you can do this! Once this module is done, you can get a pint and burn your calculator.”

Just as you leant to grab the textbook, a voice broke through your bubble of academic frustration.

“Don’t think you’d get very far burning a calculator after a few pints, I’ve seen how you handle your alcohol.”

Jumping backwards in your chair, eyes frantically assessing the source of the teasing words. There he stood, Michael Gavey. You had only met him in once during Freshers, but after minimal contact with him, you understood that he looked down on your choice of degree. Mutterings of how it is a pointless degree for vapid girls who would become housewives or receptionists within years of graduation. Mousy hair that had no clear style, smudged glasses, and an oversized maroon jumper that made him appear wider than usual.

Perhaps it was your lack of sleep, but Michael Gavey seemed to be far better looking than before.

“What the fuck Gavey?! Could have given me a heart attack, and I know you are smart but you aren’t a bloody doctor.” Clutching your chest to emphasise the theatrics of your startled self, a small huff left your person with the final word.

With a soft chuckle, the lanky boy slid into the chair opposite before resting his judgmental eyes on your figure. Assessing your appearance as if you were one of his equations. Those denim blues flickering between you and the scattered papers filled with incorrect or half-complete statistical equations.

Moments passed in silence, and with each second you grew more agitated with the piercing gaze from the bespectacled boy. “What are you even doing here Gavey? Is Christmas too simple and mainstream for you to celebrate?”

“I would ask you the same question, but from what I recall you seem to embrace the simple. Or does that only apply to your choice in degree?”

That fleeting thought of attraction was zapped from the air as his words bit at your confidence. Usually, a quick-witted response would fall from your lips, but after days of struggling, it was difficult to view yourself as anything but a student heading towards failure.

It was clear to tell the atmosphere had shifted, a tense weight fell between the pair of you. Watching as his calculated smirk fell, understanding that perhaps his words might not have been appreciated in this moment.

“What do you want Michael? I’m too busy to be belittled today.”

“Well, I was planning on asking you to be quiet. I’ve had to listen to your ridiculous murmurings for the past 2 hours. Not to mention the constant echoing of you abusing those poor books.” Straightening himself in the padded wooden seat, attempting to appear unphased by how defeated your voice sounded.

Even though Michael would never admit to it, he always harboured a modest crush on you. He remembers the way you walked around the different Fresher events with such confidence, despite not knowing anyone prior to starting University. Eyes following your figure as you made the rounds before making your way to his table of one. That was when he messed up. Something about your presence made any semblance of a filter disappear, and the insults flew from his lips before he could bite the words down. All he could do was stare as that kind spark in your eyes faltered and you muttered a discouraged goodbye before walking away from his lonely table.

Since that day, he kept an eye out for you. Never once daring to speak again, but always glancing at your corner table during dinnertime just to catch a glimpse of that jubilant smile. Yes, he thought any subject outside of mathematics-based degrees were pointless to society. Although for some reason, he never wanted you to feel anything less for your choice of pathway. Everyone else on your course might be a half-wit, but not you. Never you.

Suddenly feeling sheepish, you make a move to pack away. “Oh, I apologise. Truthfully, I thought I was the only one who stayed back for Christmas break.”

Hand reaching across to grab the textbook currently resting before the boy, you were met halfway by a larger colder hand. “Don’t leave on my account, especially before I can explain to you the different applications of correlation matrixes.”

Rearranging the position of his chair to minimise the space between the both of you, as he fumbled through your plethora of mock questions and attempted answers. All whilst your mouth parted with puzzlement, leaving you to watch his movement with questioning eyes.

“Why in the world would you help me?”

“Figures it could balance out my karma for slagging your subject. Plus, I can’t sit here knowing you are desecrating maths and not intervene.”

And with the rippling sounds of the pages followed by the subtle knock of the textbook cover, the pair of you began an unlikely partnership.

Monday the 18th of December

The next seven days were spent in that secluded corner of the century-old building with Michael explaining statistical concepts in his velvety tones. At the start, he found it difficult to not mark his superiority or mock your questions that seemed elementary to him. Eventually, he grew to understand that you really did care about understanding the methods entirely, and that your questions spawned from craving knowledge rather than sheer stupidity. Awkward explanations turned into two-way conversations during study breaks, and silly jokes. If anyone were to enter the library, they would hear the duo of laughs ricochet off the walls of books. Perhaps they would think that two friends were sharing inside jokes, but if anyone saw the pair of you, they would see two fools infatuated with one another.

It was true, within the past week Michael’s crush only grew and you started to realise that Michael might be the unexpected highlight of university. Since Freshers, you felt drawn to him, and maybe at the start it was purely a physical attraction that was shut down by his mean-spirited comments. But this version of Michael, where he feels comfortable and lets down his arrogant guard, this is the boy that you wish you’d known from the beginning. Heart fluttering when he praises you, chest aching from giggles at his nerdy jokes, and fingertips lingering slightly too long on his veiny hand.

As the snow falls outside, the pair of you sat with only the sound of your nervous drumming and the scratch of Michael’s pen across your mock examination. Studying his side profile, getting lost in the way his lips purse with satisfaction when he ticks off a correct answer, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was proud of you. Several moments trickled by in silence, waiting in anticipation to see whether the hours spent together had actually taught you anything. There was the unspoken discomfort of what happens next. If you had passed with flying colours, does that mean you and him go back to strangers? Could you pretend to be less than friends again with all these newfound feelings? Truthfully, part of you wished you failed so he would have to keep tutoring you.

“And you did it. Congratulations, you have officially conquered statistics.” Sliding across the paper marked 86% with a little smile into your expectant hands. Those stormy blues meeting yours to watch the excitement unfold.

“I did it? Oh my god, I did it!”

Waving the paper in the air before bringing it to your chest, eyes sparkling with happiness as the weight of failure floats off your shoulders. Michael could only match your exuberant smile, leaning his chiselled chin on the palm of his hand to watch the subject of his dreams glitter in front of him. He knew the doubts that clouded your judgement were bullshit. In his eyes you were almost as smart as him, only in a different way. Watching your seated celebrations as he commits the image to memory, with fear of today being the last day of closeness between you two. Michael half expected you to drop him after realising you understood the concepts. That you would finally recognise you are worth more than someone like him. Someone of a higher class, someone more muscular, someone who isn’t a social pariah.

Those thoughts were halted by the feel of your jumper-clad arms being thrown around his neck, drawing him close. Snapping out of his daydream just as you bridged the gap between your lush lips and his own. Michael felt you melt into him, arms softening in their hold but your lips still continuing the connection with passion. This kiss was all consuming, built up with each second of vulnerability shown throughout the moments together. He noted that you tasted like spearmint gum, and it perfectly complimented the constant chocolate that lurked on his tastebuds.

Somehow it felt like the pair of you were joined for eternity, feeling as if the cool of his lens would be ingrained on your skin. Reluctantly the two young students separated, faces flushed and chests heaving in a desperate attempt to fill your lungs. The realisation of your bold move flashed in your brain, panic arising in your stomach at all the possible scenarios that could happen next, but those fears settled as you saw the soft look hidden behind those glasses.

“Thank you, Michael. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Well, it does help that I’m a mathematical genius. But truthfully, I’ve enjoyed teaching you and would happily continue our study sessions.” Despite his clear words, Michael was still recovering from the shockwaves in his body from the taste of you on his lips. Mentally he was cringing at his entirely unromantic words, but all you did was smile.

“As much as I would like that, I’d prefer if our relationship went beyond studying? Perhaps we could go for a celebratory pint or get dinner together.” Awkwardly twiddling the hem of his sweater between your fingertips as you avoided his eyeline. “You know, like a date? Only if you would be happy with that, of course.”

“I’ve come to realise that if I was a correlation matrix, and you’d be the variable that’s highly correlated with my happiness. So yes, I’d love to take YOU on a date”

Laughter erupted in your belly at his cheesy line, and he fought the urge to pull in for another kiss. Instead, he chose to intertwine your warm hands with his. “A genius, a gentleman, a teacher, and now a comedian? You, Michael Gavey, are an adventure I can’t wait to explore.”

[gatheredfates]

SEA'S COMMUNITY COMPENDIUM UPDATE

We have a massive one today! Huge thanks to a close friend of mine who sent me every single bookmark of xiv resources she had. 💖

Additionally, a good handful of these resources were sourced from a list originally created by @rinhkitty, which you can find here. I have tried to include the more recent/active of the lot, so it's not a one-for-one. Thank them for a lot of the large scale resources you'll find below! ✨

As of 04/12, I have added the following resources (in no particular order) to Sea's Community Compendium for FFXIV Creatives:

LARGE SCALE

GARLAND TOOLS — Contains XIV resources such as Garland Data, everything database, crafting lists and equipment calculators; Garland Bell, gathering timers, collectable resources and hunt windows; and FFXIV Fisher, daily fishing windows, bait paths and catch checklist. Maintained by Clorifex Ezalor of Zalera.

TEAMCRAFT — Create crafting lists and collaborate with others, set gathering alarms, simulate crafting rotations, and more!

CAT BECAME HUNGRY - FFXIV ANGLER — Contains everything and anything to know about fishing including specific fish guides, location, baits, aquarium fish and more!

FFXIV - CRAFTING AS A SERVICE — Crafting information and planning for FFXIV!

FFXIV GARDENING — The FFXIV Gardening Database is a collection of everything related to gardening in Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn. It was created to organize and visualize the results obtained from crossbreeding.

SIGHTSEEING LOG HELPER — This tool will help those trying to complete their pesky Sightseeing Log by letting them know upcoming weather patterns for each zone!

EUREKA TRACKER — For everything and anything to do with Eureka mobs, tracking and weather patterns.

FFLOGOS — for tracking of items/actions related to Eureka.

FFXIVSQUADRON — A comprehensive tool that helps you assess the success rate of various squadron missions.

FFXIV CHOCOBO COLOUR CALCULATOR — Will calculate what chocobo feed you will need to get from your current colour to your desired colour. *rng not included.

FFXIV HOUSING — A site specialising in the documentation of all housing items available in game.

HOUSING SNAP — A compilation of player-made housing designs. Can be used for inspiration or places to visit!

MISC

NPC CHAT BUBBLES — Would you like more NPC chat bubbles for edits? Say no more! Created by @alexoisxiv.

OLD TUMBLR LAYOUT BY PIXIEL — While not XIV specific I know a lot of people aren't fans of the new Tumblr layout, so this is a fix that will revert it to an as close as possible approximation of the new one. I won't tag the creator as I don't think they're in the xiv community, but it's run by @/pixiel!

HOW TO CURSE LIKE AN ISHGARDIAN — Do you want to make the church blush? Do you want to incur the wrath of Halone? @stars-and-clouds has compiled a list of appropriate curses/swear words for you!

FINAL FANTASY XIV SIDEQUEST GUIDE - HEAVENSWARD EDITION — maintained by @chatty-moogle, this guide explores interesting sidequests in Heavensward that will give you more information about the lore, titbits about locals and other interesting information!

TRUST BANNERS FOR XIV — If you have ever wondered how people mimic the Trust banners used in XIV, look no further! @locke-rinannis has a template for you.

MAKING USE OF RECOMMENDATIONS — created by @autumnslance, this guide will help you make your recommendations tab useful rather than annoying.

BOTANICA EORZEA — A guide to the flora of Eitherys and her reflections, including fungi and seedkin. For reference in writing and roleplaying. Maintained by @tinolqa.

GPOSE TIPS — A tutorial on how to achieve clarity and detail in your XIV screenshots! Created by @aryalaenkha.

UI MACRO MENUS — A guide on how to use macros to create small UI menus for XIV. Written by @diskwrite-ffxiv.

TYPHON GATE RESEARCH — Created by @mcstronghuge, these are the statistically best places for your character to stand for the Typhon Gate!

CHANGELOG

HYDAELYN HEALTH HAVEN has been removed at the request of the owner.

Moved THE BALANCE higher on the list to reflect alphabetical sorting, excluding names that start with The.

Misc formatting as needed.

Added some additional clarification around large-scale discords/spaces; in particular: Large-scale community discords such as the XIV Reddit Discord, Hunts, GPOSE promotions and broad-space roleplay servers that harbour a large number of people and are publicly available to all. These may not have an RP focus but will assist in other aspects of the game. Also includes well-known tools/resources that are utilised by large groups of people and assist in gameplay elements.

Added a quick-jump menu to the bottom of each of the table of contents menus to assist in navigation.

Want to submit? You can either fill out the google form here, send me an ask with the relevant information contained on the Compendium, or join my Discord at SEAFLOOR (21+ only)!

I am sure there's probably a couple of things I have missed or links/formatting that might be broken. Please don't hesitate to let me know if anything is out of place. I'm going to take a break now. I'm pretty sure that's the biggest edit that's ever going to occur on this document!

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Chilling

Masterlist

Pairing: Henry X Reader

Synopsis: You were in love with the blacksmith's boy since you were both children. One day, he stumbles into into the apothecary, covered in blood and wounds, asking for you. As the last survivor of the hunting party, you start to suspect what has changed him.

Tags: fluff, eventual smut, werewolves, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, danger, some death, gore,

Chapter 1

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village into a shroud of cold shadows. In the dimly lit apothecary, you moved with purpose, tending to the sick under the warm glow of flickering candles.

The room smelled of herbs and remedies, a comforting scent that enveloped the two children and their mother nestled under thick furs. Your hands moved carefully, wrapping the children tightly as you spoke to them in a soothing tone.

"You see, this medicine is made from a special herb. It's like a little helper for your body," you explained, your eyes meeting the curious gaze of the youngest child.

"Why does it smell sour?" the girl asked.

You chuckled, “To me, it smells like oranges. Trust me, after a few sips, you'll feel much better and be playing with your siblings again."

Turning your attention to the reluctant boy, you's smile remained unwavering. "I know, it doesn't taste like your favourite sweets, but it is still good stuff. Drink up, and you'll be back to your adventures in no time."

The boy eyed the tea suspiciously and reluctantly took a sip.

As you comforted the children the mother's discomfort became apparent. Her forehead is damp with fever. You placed a damp cloth on her forehead and she sighed.

"You'll be alright," you assured before ushering the kids into another room, telling them to drink their tea.

Returning to the mother, you reassessed the situation. The bucket beside her bed was full, and she was wiping her mouth. A realisation dawned on you. You delicately asked, "Have you been intimate recently?"

The woman nodded, and understanding swept over. She was with child.

In that moment, the door creaked open, revealing the figure of Rebecca, the village healer, and your mentor.

Rebecca entered the apothecary, shaking off the snow from her cloak and depositing a basket of herbs and roots onto a table. "The cold has arrived sooner than expected this year," she sighed, eyeing the flickering candles that cast shadows on the walls.

Her gaze shifted to you, engaged with the now cleaned-up woman. A knowing smile played on Rebecca's lips as she assessed the situation. "Congratulations, Lucy. Wonderful news,"

As you helped Lucy with a wash basin, you made small talk about breaking the news to Michael, Lucy's husband. In the midst of their conversation, you couldn't resist asking, "How do you do that? Can you read minds?"

Rebecca snorted, not confirming or denying the accusation.

After everyone was cleaned up, children tucked back into bed, and Lucy given a herb to induce sleep, Rebecca noticed the weariness in your eyes. "The night has almost fallen. You should get some rest,"

"What about you?" You asked.

Rebecca dismissed you with a wave, "Don't worry about me. You've been working too hard. I can see it in your eyes. You shouldn't have to do the work of five people."

You chuckled, "Especially with winter colds."

The howling wind outside and the distant howl added an eerie soundtrack to their conversation.

"Sounded louder," Rebecca commented cryptically.

Perplexed, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

"The howling," Rebecca replied, your tone filled with a solemn warning. “One was louder than the rest…”

Oblivious to the ominous undertone, you shrugged and packed your things. "I haven't noticed. If you're okay here, i'll take that offer to go home."

As you opened the heavy wooden door, Rebecca cautioned behind you, "Be careful, y/n. No shortcuts."

With those words echoing in your mind, you donned your cloak and stepped into the biting night, leaving the apothecary behind, the wind carrying with it an unsettling howl.

As you ventured through the village on your walk home, the air grew colder, and darkness descended. Winter's biting cold pierced through your cloak, urging you to quicken your pace. The villagers had retreated indoors, leaving the streets eerily quiet, only the sounds of your footsteps echoing and the wind whooshing through the creaking, naked trees. The quietness was haunting, a stark contrast to the usual lively hum of the village.

Passing the dressmaker's shop, you glanced into the window, where a distorted reflection of a beautiful dress beckoned. You cast a brief glance down at your own worn garment. You've worn it almost every day for three years. The fabric clung tightly, showing your growth over the time.

A sudden snap to your right shattered the silence, and you spun. In the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes seemed to stare back at you. A gasp caught in your throat, and you broke into a run. The chilling wind whipped at your hair as you sprinted toward your brother's farmhouse at the edge of the village.

Reaching the safety of the familiar door, you stole a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding. There was nothing but the winter night. You hurriedly entered the house, shutting the door with a shiver, leaving the cold and the unsettling encounter outside.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You closed the heavy wooden door behind yourself, and the warm glow of the farmhouse kitchen welcomed you. Your brother, his wife, and their three children sat around the sturdy wooden table, eating a hearty stew from a pot placed at the center.

Will, holding the twins and little Mary devouring your small bowl, greeted you with understanding smiles. "Sit, eat."

As you filled your plate, your brother's wife picked at the sleeve of your worn dress, the dirt from the day's work evident.

"Can you mend this for me, Sophie?" you asked her.

Sophie nodded, "Of course! Leave it with me tomorrow, and I'll have it done by the morning. Can you wear something else in its stead in case it takes me some time?"

You pondered your dress options while taking a scoop of the stew. "I have my festive dress, but there's also my grandmother's old work dress. It's a bit big, though."

Sophie grinned mischievously, "Festive dress it is, then. Remember the harvest festival? The butcher's boy couldn't take his eyes off you."

Blushing, you chuckled, gaze drifting to the window. Your mind lingered on Henry, the blacksmith's nephew. You secretly had a crush on him since you were both children

He lost both his parents and older brother to cholera. Had to grow up fast, becoming the first to apprentice at his uncle Jen’s smithy at the age of ten.

You, only seven years old at the time, found him captivating, though your friends didn't share the sentiment.

You were quite chubby as a child but harsh winters and harvests have made it difficult to stay that way. The same applied to him, although unlike you, who became thinner, Henry bulked. As the years passed, he transformed from a lanky, sickly boy into a broad and capable young man, drawing lots of attention from the village girls with his tall build, strong arms, constantly covered in veins and dirt from working at the smithy.

Despite the two of you being friendly enough, Henry hadn't seemed to notice you much, always engrossed in his important errands at the smithy.

Sophie's voice brought you back to the present. "The butcher's son is handsome and well-off. Perhaps think about it?"

"Perhaps." you considered.

As Sophie departed for bed, you cleared the table before removing your dress, leaving it for Sophie. You settled down on your bed in the kitchen in your night dress, covering yourself in a heavy wool blanket and turned your head to the side.

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In the midst of the night, you found yourself in a dream.

You wandered through a frost-covered forest, shadows dancing beneath the moonlight. Distant howls of wolves echoed, and Henry 's figure emerged from the mist.

As you approached, he turned, revealing the handsome face you often found herself dreaming of.

Henry 's deep brown eyes held a warmth.

"Y/n, my y/n" his words muffled in your dream but you still found your heart beating loudly.

"Yes, Henry." you gasped.

Henry 's arms enveloped you, pulling you closer in a tender embrace beneath the moonlight. He lifted your chin up to meet his lips in a soft, tender kiss that lingered minutes after he pulled apart and trailed kisses along your jaw, and down your neck, where he lingered, playfully nipping at your collarbone.

You gasped.

"I want to sink my teeth into you..." He whispered. You felt your cheeks burn, along with the rest of your body.

Suddenly, the dream shifted. The forest darkened, and the wolves' howls intensified. A giant figure, cloaked in shadows, appeared. Your heart raced as you recognized the glowing eyes from your earlier encounter.

"I want to sink my teeth into you." The figure whispered. Your pulse picked up as the dream twisted into a chaotic dance of uncertainty.

You woke up with a start.

The farmhouse was silent, bathed in the soft glow of the hearth. you lay in the quiet darkness, the dream fading.

Unable to shake off the disquieting feeling, you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb your family, and donned your warmest attire. The creaking floorboards betrayed your departure, and as you stepped outside, the winter night embraced you once again.

The village slept peacefully, shrouded in a blanket of snow. Your breath formed visible clouds in the frigid air as you made your way to the apothecary. The flickering candlelight within revealed the familiar shelves of herbs and potions.

Rebecca, already awake, greeted you with a knowing smile. "The threads of fate weave a complex tapestry," Rebecca mused. "Your dreams may hold clues to the challenges ahead. Stay vigilant, you, and trust your instincts."

[minty-mumbles]

An Important Message

Summary: Link runs into a group of warriors who are searching for the Hero of Hyrule and decides he doesn't want to deal with that. He sends them to talk to Zelda, along with a letter containing an "important message" for the queen

A/N: First fic in more than half a year! I hope you guys like it!

(Read on AO3)

~~~

Time sheathed his sword as he looked around the battlefield. Piles of bokoblin flesh- the only things left of the monsters they had been fighting- steamed as they slowly dissipated into black fog. Evidently, he’d been the last to finish his fight. The others had already regrouped. He walked towards the other heroes who were clustered to one side of the smoking battlefield. 

The group looked scuffed up, but no one seemed to be hurt. Four stood to the side, scowling as he fiddled with a torn and bloodied part of his tunic sleeve, but no one else seemed concerned and Four didn’t seem like he was in pain, so Time assumed he'd already been taken care of.

Half the group talked among themselves, while the other half were openly staring at a stranger. Time had noticed that they’d had a helper during their fight, but hadn’t thought much of it. At the time, he’d been more worried about the lizalfos trying to cut his head off than a strange figure on the battlefield.

At the moment, though, the man was crouched across the battlefield, hunched over a smoking pile of bokoblin guts. Time blinked. Was the man collecting the organs left behind? 

Time didn’t feel nauseous at the sight of a man with his hands buried in a pile of fresh monster entrails. He’d seen too much in his life to ever be nauseous at something like that, but he did have to restrain himself from pulling a face at the sight of the person picking up a bokoblin’s stomach. 

“Oh, gross,” he heard someone mutter from behind him but didn’t turn to see who had said it. (He didn’t necessarily disagree with their assessment of the situation.) Instead, he walked over towards the man. The stranger looked up as Time approached, but didn’t bother to stand to greet him. 

The man was wearing tight gray and navy blue leather armor, clearly Sheikah in design. His long pale blonde hair was swept up in a neat bun at the nape of his neck. A navy scarf was pulled up over the lower half of his face, covering his mouth and his nose. His eyes remained unobscured, glinting as he stared up at Time from where he was crouched. 

The stranger’s eyes were unsettling. They were a blue so pale that Time had the absurd thought that the stranger must be blind. But no, Time’s gaze was met without falter, and the stranger had aimed his bow with no hesitancy during the fight. He wasn’t blind, but his eyes unsettled Time slightly. With his pale blonde hair and pale blue eyes, it looked like all the color had been drained out of the stranger.

Time stopped a few feet away, not wanting to get so close he would tower over the stranger, who was still crouched on the ground. Time placed a hand to his chest, inclining his head. “Thank you, stranger. We appreciate your help with the fight. It’s not often we find someone who can hold their own as well as you.”

It was true. Most of the heroes were used to civilians who were, for the most part, unfamiliar with a sword. Only in Warriors’ Hyrule could they count on outside support and even then it was only from trained soldiers, not random people who stumbled across their battles.  

The stranger’s scarf covered their mouth, so TIme could not see the expression they were pulling, but by the furrowing of his brow, Time could tell they were frowning. 

There was a moment of awkward silence as if the stranger was carefully considering his words. “I could say the same thing.” Their voice was soft and raspy, and Time had to strain to hear it. “What is such a large group of warriors doing in these lands? What is your purpose here?”

The group of heroes was used to scrutiny of this type. They truly were a strange bunch, and they drew curiosity and suspicion no matter where they went. None of the heroes were naturally skilled with words or lies, but the constant scrutiny caused them to become practiced and confident in their excuses as to why such a ragtag group was traveling together. 

However, Time got the sense that their lies wouldn't work here. He recognized the stranger's armor and pale coloration. If he wasn’t a member of the Sheikah tribe, he was at least a descendant. The Sheikah were suspicious people, and well trained in lies and subterfuge. If Time lied, the stranger would be able to tell, and would be very unlikely to help them. 

So, he spoke the truth. “We’re traveling to the castle. We come from a land far away to seek an audience with the Queen.”

The stranger’s frown turned into a suspicious glare. “You want to visit the queen.” The statement was flat and unamused. The stranger’s emotions were hidden by both his flat voice and the scarf that covered the lower half of his face, but Time could tell he seemed deeply unimpressed. “For what purpose do you want to speak with her?”

“Our business is our own, stranger,“ Time replied, not unkindly, but with a certain firmness to his tone that said he would not be explaining.

“I work under her direction. If you mean harm to her…” 

Ah. Time quickly realized his misstep. It wasn’t the same in every era, but it wasn't uncommon for the Sheikah tribe to serve the monarchy. A group of well-armed foreigners who were vague about their intentions with the man’s master would no doubt be unwelcome. He knew he couldn’t have lied to the stranger about why they needed to speak to the ruler of this era, but Time could have offered up a half-truth. It might have appeased the stranger and made him more willing to offer directions. 

“No, nothing like that! We seek the hero of this land, and thought speaking to the Queen might be the best place to start.“

“And for what purpose do you seek him?” The voice changed for the first time, gaining a hint of disdain. That was curious. Had the hero done something that the people of this era found distasteful? Did this man know the hero personally, and dislike him? Time tucked that thought away, knowing that asking would make the man close off even further.

There was a pause before Time spoke as he once again decided to tell as much of the truth as he could. “We can not tell anyone but the Queen.”

The stranger shifted, then stood. Even standing, he barely came level with Time’s shoulder. He looked like he was deeply considering leaving this conversation and not bothering with Time or any of the other heroes anymore. “But it’s an urgent matter?”

“Of the utmost importance.”

~~~

Link was utterly sick of this shit. 

‘Utmost importance,’ his ass. Everyone thought their news was of the ‘utmost’ importance. Then again, Link thought as he took another look at the ragtag group in front of him and actually paid attention to the details of their appearance this time, perhaps these people were telling the truth about carrying important news. 

Link didn’t doubt the man’s claims that they weren’t from Hyrule. The man spoke with a strange accent, and their clothes were foreign. Link had never seen fashion like that, and he’d traveled all over Hyrule. 

Even their weapons were strange; they carried an odd collection of swords that didn’t look like either heirlooms from the golden age of before the Calamity or the swords forged by the Zora or Goron smiths. The one wearing a white cape had even fought with a whip during the battle, which wasn’t a technique Link had ever seen displayed in any of the settlements. Whips were only ever used for animals, never as weapons. 

So yes, they were very strange indeed. 

(It did make him wonder how they had managed to enter Hyrule. Every time Link tried to leave, he would find his path blocked by some sort of obstacle so the fact that people had managed to find their way in was interesting- but that was a thought for another time.)

The fact that they were foreigners narrowed down what kind of news they could be carrying significantly. They could be mercenaries sent to assassinate the newly returned Queen or declare war on behalf of a far-off kingdom. That was unlikely- if they were here to fight, they would not have brought children, even if those children seemed skilled in the sword. 

They could be here to ask for aid in a disaster that plagued their kingdom. This was more likely, but still not probable- no country would think to requisition aid from Hyrule unless they were truly desperate. 

The last option- both the one that seemed most likely given Link’s luck and the one he dreaded the most- was that this was the beginning of yet another divinely ordained quest.

Link sighed, somehow both disinterested and panicked at the same time. He didn’t want to get mixed up in another quest. “I literally just got done cleaning the last mess.” He grumbled to himself, quiet enough that the man shouldn’t be able to hear him. Couldn’t the goddess leave him alone for a few months? Was that too much to ask?

“What was that?” Oh, right. The strangers were still waiting for his response. What had they wanted in the first place? 

“Nothing. I can direct you to the palace, but if it’s truly the hero you seek, I can go retrieve him. I know his usual haunts.” Link would not be retrieving the hero from anywhere. A plan was already forming for him to escape to a place where none of these men could follow him. It had been a while since he last visited Gerudo Town, after all. He owed Riju a visit. 

The group’s leader straightened, looking pleased, as if he’d finally gotten a good break after days of bad luck. “We would appreciate-”

Link didn’t want to hear any more formal speech, and interrupted. “But I was traveling to Castle Town in order to deliver a message to the Queen. If I go to retrieve the hero, I’ll need you to deliver it for me.” 

“It would be no trouble, sir.”

Great. Link let his face split into a vicious grin, knowing his mask covered exactly how sarcastic his expression was. “Let me just write it down.” 

~~~

This wasn’t what Zelda had been expecting to do during her scheduled lunch break, but she couldn’t say she was surprised. Repairing the castle and working on reinstating Hyrule to its former glory was never going to be an easy task, and new things for her to deal with popped up nearly hourly. 

Being hustled away from inspecting the work being done on the outer town wall to be informed that there was a large group of armed messengers asking to speak to her was a new one, though.

She’d thanked the messenger for telling her and sent him off to escort the group to a waiting room- preferably one of the ones that was already cleaned up. Then, he was to summon Hoz and another member of the guard and send them to the throne room to wait for her. 

She herself picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could from the outer town wall to the small house she’d been staying in while the bedrooms in the castle were still in a state of disarray. She didn’t have any fancy dresses or many expensive jewels, but anything would be better than the hard-worn and dusty dress she’d been wearing today. She didn’t know who had requested to see her, but she knew it wasn't a planned delegation from any of the settlements. If it had been an unplanned group sent from Hateno or Lurelin, she would have been informed of that by the messenger. 

It seemed impossible, but a strange delegation no one recognized led her to only one conclusion. A delegation from one of the surrounding countries had arrived. If it were true, Zelda needed to make her best impression. She needed to put on a good show. 

Not a show of strength, no. The royal guard currently consisted of nine people, half of whom worked only part-time at the moment. A show of strength was impossible. The best she could do was present a calm, united front. She had to show that, despite being only a teenager, she was competent enough to rule this nation.

It would be catastrophic if any of the surrounding countries got the idea that Hyrule would be easy to conquer now that there wasn’t a demon pig rampaging through the palace. 

They wouldn’t be wrong for that impression. Hyrule would need decades before it was anywhere close to the militaristic force it had once been. Zelda had been hoping the mountains, oceans, and desert surrounding Hyrule that formed natural boundaries would keep other countries from sending ambassadors so soon, but it appeared she was out of time. 

She needed to appear competent, and meeting the group dressed in dusty work clothes and tangled hair was not the way to do that. She changed as quickly as she could, choosing the most presentable of her outfits. She chose a sapphire tiara from her small collection of jewelry- most of which had been gifted to her by Link- and held it in her mouth as she ran from her tent towards the throne room, simultaneously trying her best to comb her hair into a more presentable look. She didn’t have the time to put it into a style, so simply brushing it out would have to do. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the voice of one of her childhood nannies echoed, telling her that “princesses do not run willy-nilly through the castle.” Zelda told the voice to shut up. Princesses might not run through the castle, but a queen certainly would if it was needed to make a good impression, and Zelda was a queen.

She circled around to the back of the throne room, entering through one of the doors behind the throne. Thankfully, Hoz and the other guard- a middle-aged woman named Mima- were already waiting for her next to the throne. She slowed to a stop in front of them. 

The two guards looked slightly bemused but didn’t comment on her odd behavior. They had no doubt been apprised of the situation by the messenger already. They were both smart enough to realize the implications. 

Mima, the saint that she was, stepped forward and took the hairbrush from Zelda, helping her work out a stubborn knot on the back of her head. 

The three of them weren’t alone in the room. There was a trio of young women on one side of the throne room, busy with pulling down the old dusty curtains, which were half rotted after a hundred years of sitting in the open elements. They stopped their work when they saw that Zelda had entered, waiting for an order to leave, but Zelda gestured for them to continue. If these strangers had to see the throne room in such a state, they could at least see that there were steps being taken to put it back to its proper state.  

Thankfully, the stonework itself had already been repaired, so the throne room was no longer quite so open air. The Gorons had sent a team over as soon as they had heard she was planning on starting work on the castle, and Zelda couldn't be more grateful. They were quick and efficient and the work they had done was excellent. You could barely tell the castle had been destroyed, just from looking at it. 

All that was left to do in the castle itself was the redecoration. Zelda, who had never been one for interior design, had left that in the capable hands of a group of young men and women who had traveled to Castle Town from Hateno. At the moment, they were mostly focused on getting the last rotten remnants of the castle's previous inhabitants out. 

The entire throne room would need to be redecorated. Her father’s throne was made out of solid marble and cushioned with red velvet, but it hadn’t survived the attack undamaged. A long crack ran up the back of it, splitting it neatly in too. Then there were the curtains and carpets. Even if they weren’t ruined, Zelda still would have preferred to replace them. The red that her father favored in his reign gave Zelda a headache just to look at. There were too many bad memories attached to the color.

Perhaps a nice light blue would be better? And Zelda would have to either design or commission a new royal crest…. It had been a hundred years, after all. The only ones who remembered what the old crest even symbolized were Purah, Impa, and Zelda herself. 

Zelda shook off those thoughts as Mima finished brushing out her hair. No time for thoughts of redecoration now. There was an embassy to see. She tossed her hairbrush behind one of the old dusty curtains still hanging around the room. She’d retrieve it later. She situated her tiara on her head. Hopefully, she looked alright

She sat delicately on her father’s throne. As long as she sat up straight, the damage it had suffered wouldn’t be obvious. They hadn’t had enough time to replace the throne, and sitting in a smaller chair off to the side would have sent the wrong message. Zelda was not a temporary step in while they waited for the real ruler to return. She was the queen, so the uncomfortable broken throne it was. 

With a nod from her, Hoz left the room to fetch their guests.

It didn’t take long for him to return, eight men and boys trailing behind him. Zelda refrained from lifting an eyebrow at the sight of a preeteen and someone who looked even younger than that, based on his height. Not what she would have expected from a group of ambassadors. It wasn't shocking that they had brought their children on the long journey here, no, but it was odd that they chose to bring the children into the first meeting they had with the monarch of the country they were visiting. 

But it wasn’t like they had anywhere to leave the boys that was clean and not an active construction zone, so she supposed that made sense. What didn’t make sense, though, was the odd collection of clothing and weapons the group wore. They didn’t look anything like the embassies that Zelda remembered seeing a hundred years ago. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that this group wasn’t actually an embassy from a foreign nation, but that didn’t explain who they actually were. 

The group walked forward, somehow both self-assured and strangely hesitant at the same time, like they weren’t sure what to make of this situation. They walked with confidence towards the throne, but once they reached a respectful distance, they gathered closely together as if unsure which one of them should step forward to address her.

Zelda did not address them. She simply waited to see what they would do. If they were here to attack her, this was where the facade would end. 

After a few agonizing moments, one of the group- a man in his late twenties wearing a navy blue scarf and green tunic- slowly knelt. The rest follow suit, though none as fluidly as the first. This, at least, was expected behavior. Kneeling before a monarch in their own throne room was proper. Their hesitance made it even more clear that this is no officially sanctioned embassy.  

After letting them sweat for a few seconds, Zelda nodded. When she spoke, her voice was strong. 

“Rise.” 

The group followed the order quickly. Those in the back of the group shuffled slightly, but the man in the blue scarf got to his feet in a single elegant movement. He met her eyes respectfully, waiting for her instruction. 

Zelda inclined her head as regally as she could manage. She felt like a child stumbling around in oversized clothes, forced into a role she didn't fit, but she was confident enough to know she was putting on a relatively good show of being in charge and confident. “Introduce yourself.”

The man placed a hand on his chest and ducked his head, bowing slightly. “I am Captain Tailleur, Your Majesty.” 

Ahh, Zelda thought, a military man. Strangely, he didn’t include his first name in his introduction. She wondered for a moment what country he served, but didn't ask quite yet. 

“These are my brothers.” Captain Tailleur made a sweeping gesture backward toward the rest of the group. Zelda didn’t necessarily disbelieve him. In fact, the whole group shared a certain resemblance that she found eerily familiar, but couldn’t quite place. But still… 

“Seven brothers? That’s quite impressive” There was no accusation in her tone, but still the man flinched slightly. Zelda wouldn't have picked up on it if she hadn’t spent her childhood at her father’s side while he held court, studying the faces of those who came to supplicate him. 

“Brothers-in-arms,” Captain Tailleur corrected himself. Zelda let it slide. The rest of the group wouldn’t need to be introduced individually if they weren’t nobles in their own right, and from the look of them, they weren’t. 

“What business do you have in this land?”

Captain Tailleur twitched, and didn’t answer. Zelda leaned forward slightly. Not enough to reveal the broken back of the throne, but enough to put a sense of pressure on the man, make him feel scrutinized. “I’ll ask again, Captain. What business do you have in my land? I have little patience for this. Surely it’s obvious my kingdom is recovering from a great tragedy. We have no room for intruders.” 

“We are no intruders, Your Majesty.” Both a lie and not a lie, Zelda could tell, which was interesting. She couldn't make heads or tails of that.

“No?” Her voice was becoming openly hostile as the atmosphere in the room became tense. Hoz and Mima were shifting on either side of her throne, their grips on their spears tightening. “You certainly do not come from this land. There are no Captain Tailleurs in my military, sir.” The only captain she had was Hoz, who was standing right next to her, but he didn’t need to know that.

A beat of silence, before Captain Tailleur spoke again, this time slower, as if he was carefully choosing his words. Zelda could tell she was making him uncomfortable.

Good. She still didn’t know why they were here or if they meant harm. Making him uncomfortable meant he was more likely to make mistakes.

 “We’ve traveled far to reach here, and I am not sworn to serve you, that’s true. But Hyrule is our homeland. We are not intruders.” Were they descendants of refugees who fled the Calamity a hundred years ago, now returning to their homeland? That would make more sense. 

He continued, “We came here on an urgent mission. We are searching for someone, and we think it may be of interest to you as well.” A relative of theirs, perhaps? Someone descended from a shared ancestor who had stayed behind when the rest of their family fled? 

Zelda thought again about the similar features their faces held, but she still couldn’t place where she’d seen their features before. If they say their search might be of interest to her as well, perhaps they were descendants of nobles? That would explain why they looked so familiar, if she had seen their ancestors around the castle before the Calamity.

“While we were making our way to the castle, we ran into one of your servants. He told us he knew where to find the man we’re looking for, but said he was carrying a rather urgent notice to you. He agreed to allow us to deliver it.” Captain Tailleur produced a rolled-up scroll sealed with blue wax from a pouch at his hip. 

Zelda kept her face impassive as she gestured Hoz to go retrieve the letter. A spark of worry that had nothing to do with the men before her flares. An urgent message? Was something wrong in one of the villages? But then again, how urgent could it really be if the messenger was willing to pass their message on to someone else? 

“What was the name of the man who sent this message with you?”

Captain Tailleur stiffened, and Zelda could see embarrassment on his face. “We… did not catch his name. He was an archer, wearing Sheikah armor and a mask over his mouth. He assisted us in a fight against a group of monsters, then gave us directions and this letter.”

Hoz returned, handing her the scroll. It was high-quality parchment, and it looked suspiciously familiar. She turned it over, looking at the wax seal to see if the stamp held any clues.

It did, and suddenly Zelda knew why this parchment was so familiar. It was the type of paper she wrote her research findings down on. She procured it especially from a Zora artisan because it was waterproof and made to last longer to suit the longer lifespan of the Zora. 

It was also the parchment that Link kept stealing from her, which was confirmed by the imprint of a silent princess flower in the wax. The imprint came from a signet ring she had gifted to Link. She’d found it in the ruins of her father’s study, though she didn’t remember him ever wearing anything like it and it wasn’t sized for his fingers.

She’d given it to Link when he’d told her he was going to start traveling again after things had started to settle down again after the Calamity. It gave her a feeling of security to know the letters she received were actually from him. 

Captain Tailleur’s description of an archer in Sheikah armor matched as well. Link did like to travel in his Sheikah stealth set to avoid too much attention. It also made sense that Link would know where the group’s relative was. He knew almost everyone in the kingdom.

Zelda broke the crisp wax seal on the letter, unrolling it carefully. It took her a moment to decipher Link’s chicken scratch handwriting, but when she did, she had to read the letter twice to make sure she was seeing this correctly.

Dearest Zel,

LIE TO THESE GUYS AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. THEY HAVE WEIRD VIBES. TELL THEM AS MUCH BULLSHIT AS YOU CAN. COMPLETLY FUCK WITH THEM.

Love, 

Link 

P.S. I’m going to visit Riju for a while

Keeping her face carefully stoney, she stared at the letter for longer than she needed to. This served two purposes: firstly to make the group in front of her think the letter was longer than it actually was, and secondly, it allowed her time to control herself. 

When she felt she could remain calm for long enough, she looked up from the parchment, remaining resolutely stone-faced. She stared the group down, not letting her confusion or amusement shine through in her expression.

“Thank you, sir. I need some time to think on this news.” She gestured with the letter a bit, carefully not letting them see what was written on it. “I will have someone come get you when I am ready to meet with you again.”

“Of course, your majesty. But, please, do not wait too long? Our mission is a rather urgent one.”

She inclined her head, though pointedly did not agree to the man’s request. She could see him wince when he realized that making requests of a monarch who was clearly already suspicious of them wasn’t the best idea, and that she would make them wait as long as she liked.

Turning to where Hoz stood to the side of her throne, she said, “Captain Hoz, could you send someone to make up some spare rooms for these gentlemen?” And to the other side, she spoke, “And could you possibly direct them to the baths? I’m sure they could… freshen up after such a long journey.” She let a little bit of disdain into her voice, because she was nothing if not someone who could commit to the bit, and if Link asked her to fuck with these men, then fuck with them she would. She couldn’t actually smell them from where she was sitting, but she would let them think she could.

Hoz and Mima offered her respectful bows and swept out of the room with an imperious air, Mima gesturing for the men to follow after her. Zelda was so grateful for the two of them. She honestly didn’t know what she would do without Hoz, sometimes, and Mima was a life save on more than one occasion. 

Link’s recommendation to choose Hoz as the captain of the royal guard was an excellent one. She made a mental note to thank him later and ask if he has any more recommendations of people she should add to her staff. There was probably no one in Hyrule who knew the population better than Link did, after all.

As the strangers left, she could see the one in the blue tunic try to discreetly sniff his underarm and ask Captain Tailleur- in what no doubt was supposed to be a quiet voice- if they really smelled that bad. The man thwacked him on the back of the head in reprimand. The sound was loud enough that even Zelda could hear it from across the hall.

“Wind, show some decorum, please.” That caused a round of titters to erupt from the cleaners, who had been quietly continuing their work up to this point. They clearly tried their best to muffle their laughter but failed. Both Wind- what a strange name- and Captain Tailleur flushed scarlet, and the Captain dragged the boy out of the room after the rest of their group.

When the group was gone, Zelda remained tense, not daring to let herself show her emotions just yet. With a wave, she dismissed the cleaners. “Girls, why don’t you all go take a lunch break?” None of them seemed inclined to argue with her. They were all eager to grab something to eat, and head towards the doors to the throne room immediately, leaving the baskets full of old curtains where they were.

Zelda relaxed back into her father’s throne the second the doors closed and there were no more eyes on her. The corners of her lips twitched, but she restrained herself. Valiantly, she waited until the voices outside the room faded and she was certain no one was within earshot before she burst into laughter.

Burying her face into her hands, she could only think, “Oh, Link, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

[myscenic]

Pairing: bf!jeno x 8thmember!male!reader, (slight) mark x haechan

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.1k+

Synopsis: the dreamies were hungry after a fun day of 7llin’ with dream and decide to make dinner together at the house. jaemin volunteers to cook while the others prepare ingredients and run errands.

at the market, jeno gets a cute call from his boyfriend y/n. laughter and playful teasing ensues between chenle and the lovebirds. back at the house, jeno, chenle and mark suddenly realize they forgot an ingredient.

౨ৎ Note: my first ever request is finished!! I had to rewatch the show to get some inspirations, cuz I literally almost forgot what happened in it lmao. since it's my first request, i was feeling really nervous while writing this, but i still hope u enjoy it<3

it was nighttime, the dreamies were feeling hungry after doing lots of activities in the afternoon, so they decided to have a homemade dinner together at the house. jaemin volunteered to be in charge of cooking while the others helped prepare ingredients.

jaemin assessed his ingredients with a critical eye, realizing several key items were missing. he turned to the group helpers in the kitchen.

"it seems we're short on some staples to start the main dishes," jaemin announced.

jeno looked up from washing vegetables. "i can run to the supermarket to grab what we need."

chenle perked up at the thought of an outing. "ooh, let me come too!"

mark sighed fondly. "i'll come too so you two don't cause too much chaos."

"we'll make it quick," mark assured.

the trio and headed out with an air of excitement and playfulness. while jeno and y/n looked forward to some couple time, they doubted their ability to remain focused on the task. only time would tell if they returned successfully with groceries, or in a lovesick daze once more.

jeno was browsing the meat aisle with mark and chenle when his phone started ringing. he smiled when he saw it was y/n calling.

"you gonna answer that?" chenle asked with a teasing lilt.

jeno playfully rolled his eyes at chenle before answering. "hey babe, what's up?"

"hi jen! i was just wondering, can you pick up some strawberries covered in chocolate while you're at the supermarket?" y/n's sweet voice came through the phone.

jeno couldn't help but grin like an idiot. "of course, do you want anything else~"

y/n giggled, making jeno's heart melt. "you're the best! only the strawberries is good. i can't wait to see you when you get back."

as jeno and y/n continued chatting fondly, chenle started making loud fake throwing up noises behind them. jeno tried to ignore him, but y/n must have heard through the phone.

"is chenle being disgusted again?" y/n asked, giggling more.

jeno gave chenle a side eye. "when isn't he?"

chenle stuck his tongue out in response, but kept making theatrically exaggerated gagging sounds. jeno flipped him off jokingly, unable to stop smiling as he spoke to his boyfriend.

mark chuckled at their antics, shaking his head affectionately. "don't mind him, just focus on your man."

jeno felt his cheeks warm at mark's words, but he was grateful for his hyung's support. "i'll see you soon, babe. love you!"

once jeno hung up, chenle started wheezing with laughter at his own jokes. even jeno had to laugh, chenle's silliness was honestly amusing, not truly mean-spirited.

"alright guys, let's finish up so we can get back to the others," mark said, looping his arms around chenle and jeno's necks affectionately as they continued shopping.

once the three members arrived back to the house from the supermarket, carrying bags of groceries. jaemin hurried over to check what they had bought. he started unpacking the bags and going through the list.

"hmm it seems we are missing one item," jaemin said angrily with a frown. "the green onions."

jeno and chenle quickly turned to blame mark. "it was mark hyung's job to get the green onions but he must have forgotten!" chenle said.

"yeah hyung you had one job!" jeno laughed teasingly.

mark looked shocked. "what? no i didn't, you guys said you would get the veggies!"

as the three started bickering playfully, jaemin observed them with a bemused smile. finally he clasped his hands together loudly. "alright enough you three. it doesn't really matter who forgot, it’s fine anyway. let's just get the food prepped."

with a sigh, mark went to the fridge to start taking out other ingredients they needed. but when he opened it, a bundle of green onions rolled out onto the floor.

the boys froze, then bursts of laughter erupted as they realized there was a spare bunch all along. "there we go," jaemin chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. it was just like them to band together and try tricking each other.

before long, the others had finished prepping ingredients and jaemin got to work cooking everything on the stovetop. a delicious aroma began permeating the air as pots simmered. y/n set the table while jeno poured drinks for everyone.

soon dinner was ready and they all crowded around, filling their plates high. compliments rained down on jaemin for his cooking skills as they dug in happily. y/n grinned at jeno across the table, sneaking bites of strawberries between mouthfuls of rice and meat.

they chatted casually about everything from upcoming schedules to funny memories, the atmosphere light and cozy. more than once, y/n caught jeno's foot rubbing affectionately against his ankle under the table when their gazes met. each gentle touch sent sparks through his body and never failed to bring a smile to his lips.

as they finished eating, jeno and y/n volunteered to do dishes while the others lounged around relaxing. they worked efficiently side by side at the sink, hips occasionally bumping as they maneuvered in the small space.

after a few minutes, mark loudly cleared his throat. "do you two seriously need to be joined at the hip right now too?" he nodded pointedly at their intertwined fingers resting on the countertop.

y/n glanced down, not even remembering when their hands had found each other. he blushed, starting to unlink them, but jeno held on firmly.

"says the one who begged to sleep with haechan last night." chenle chuckled, not looking up from his phone.

mark opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by renjun. "you guys, play nice. as long as our lovebirds keep things pg, i don't mind some affection around here." his eyes danced playfully.

"yeah, keep it pg, don't forget that our maknae is still here." jaemin joked as he looked to jisung. he just smiled sheepishly.

y/n grinned, relieved for renjun's understanding as always. jeno rubbed his thumb softly over y/n's knuckles, shooting him a loving smile that made his heart skip. their kitchen duties were finished in contented silence, hands locked together the whole way through.

once the last dish was dried and put away, jeno led y/n by the hand to the couch, cuddling him into his side. mark shook his head disapprovingly but y/n could see the smile he was trying to hide.

he sighed happily into jeno's warm embrace, feeling his boyfriend press a kiss to the top of his head. no matter how much teasing they received, nothing could dampen the elation and security y/n felt in jeno's arms — his most cherished place in the world. he was grateful beyond words for each and every day they had together like this.

[carlyraejepsans]

> Inspect the library. Maybe the books here have useful information.

You've already gone through most of the books in the castle. If there's anything you might have missed, it has to be here. Besides, when will you ever get a second chance at this?

You inspect the library. With a figertip, you draw a sharp line through its grey mantle. The dust on the shelves is thick enough for skiing. The only sign of cleaning being a small dimple through its surface, presumably from someone performing the same kind of assessment you just did, but enough time ago that their own clean line had raced to catch up with the median dust level.

There is no way for you to proceed with your investigations without leaving traces here. You just hope that the kind of occupant that doesn't pay notice to this level of dust wouldn't notice if it suddenly went away, either.

You start pulling books out of the shelves. They're... logs, it seems. Both in the sense that they're heavy as bricks, as in the sense that they're registers. Law changes, regulations, Royal mandates. The years, too, keep varying wildly: 1898, 1967, 2018.

"That can't be right," you mumble to yourself, "That's half a millennia ago. How are they still in these conditions?"

Halfway through a shorthand discussion on "Magical energy distribution in the farther regions", you find what appears to be a rough map of the entire underground world. Seems like the cave does expand westward, just like the King mentioned.

You hesitate—then carefully tear the page out of the book and shove it in your bag. Could be useful.

You pull out another book. You stare at the cover. Your eyes are beginning to sting after straining so hard to read at firelight, but you're pretty sure you read the title right.

"Practical Techniques In Home Cooking". Author name illegible. It feels well loved, even as you hold it. The spine is cracked where it isn't downright ripped, and a few loose pages threaten to escape and rustle to the floor as you carefully open it.

The inside of the book is as consumed with use as its outside. Thousands of hand annotations in firm, neat pencil writing frame what, to the book's credit, indeed seem to be cooking techniques for home use. Occasionally, the author proposes a recipe. It's in these pages that the amateur co-author's corrections thicken, webbing through the original text like a spider, correcting proportions and specifying cooking times.

The co-author seems to have very strong opinions about "the dangers of non-magical fires in the kitchen".

Despite your situation, you can't put the book down. This isn't useful, per se, but it is... different. Different from anything you've seen so far, from the moment you stumbled into this cave. It feels genuine, domestic. It feels, well...

Human. Something in your heart stirs.

To your surprise, a series of crayon drawings render the next recipe almost unreadable. They're goofy, colorful, and rudimentary in the way that only young children's art can be. You smile as you turn another page. And that's when you see it. Tucked neatly into the book.

It's a photograph. A thumb half covers the lenses, but the rest is clear. Two figures smile toothily at the camera, covered in cocoa powder and flour: one is a monster, small and white furred like powdered sugar, and it points at the photographer, maybe warning them about the camera.

The other is human.

You stop breathing. You squint at the photograph, looking closer for control panels or screws, or antennae—anything that would tell you the person in the picture is actually some kind of monster—but find nothing. It's just... a kid. Perhaps a few years younger than you, all puffy cheeks and scraggly hair, their index finger dipped in chocolate batter. Their smile is missing a tooth.

You turn the photograph over. In the back, you once again recognize the neat handwriting of the co-author: "My little helpers, 2019"

You exhale, somewhat unsteadily, as something glows brighter in your chest.

Other humans. There were other humans in the underground. And maybe, if other humans came here, other humans made it out, too. Maybe—you let yourself hope—maybe there is a way out.

You look down at the photograph once again, just to marvel at your discovery.

"How did you even get here," you whisper, tracing the borders with a finger.

A chill runs down your spine.

"pretty sure that's my line, buddy."

You drop the book and turn, clutching your bag. Its broken-off pages spill onto the floor like an avalanche.

The skeleton leans his back against the door, smiling placidly at you. He's in his shirtsleeves, the sleeves themselves rolled up to the elbow, and he seems to have changed his dress pants for a pair of loose gym shorts. He tips a mug at you.

You didn't hear him unlock the door. You didn't hear anything.

Staring at the pinpricks of light in his eyesockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him without sunglasses.

You also realize he's wearing pink slippers.

"heya," he says.

-->

[quinloki]

Snow Topped Mountains

Merry Christmas @mewiyev \o/ I am your secret santa! ❤️

I hope you enjoy this short story and bonus art (I have been wanting to try to draw Katakuri ever since you made me a Massive Fan of him, your art style, and Maren, so I hope you enjoy it!)

Words: 1,274 Characters: GN Reader, Katakuri CW: None, I believe, horror-undertones.

The storm had passed, and so you were ready to head and and assess any damages, and if you were lucky maybe track some fresh game with the newly fallen snow.

Except now you were staring at the largest body you’d ever seen in your life. You would’ve mistaken it for the beginnings of a hill, but you knew the area better than anyone, and no storm was enough to move mountains.

You watched, nearly mesmerized by the sight, as the man’s massive chest rose and fell, in a steady rhythm. He was most certainly alive, for now, but unconscious. You, barely the size of one of his arms as far as you could tell, now faced the rather daunting task of trying to figure out how you could hope to save him.

And if saving him was going to result in your own untimely end or not.

Unable to simply leave any creature to its fate, dangerous or otherwise, you began to move. You had enough rope, and large enough tarps, all used for the village’s festivals. You might live up in the mountains to maintain the shrines and offerings to the gods during the hard times, but you weren’t ostracized.

“Fortunately for both of us you collapsed near the trees.” You mutter, tossing a weighted length of rope up into the branches and getting it tangled into place. It took you thirty minutes to get a network of ropes secured into the evergreens, and nearly an hour to get the tarps threaded on the ropes. The process was faster when you had a helper or two, but with the impending storm even your usual help wasn’t on the mountain.

Maren was going to be upset he missed the excitement.

The passing of the storm hadn’t cleared the skies, but it had abated the wind, so the labor of setting up the ropes and tarps was enough to keep you warm. You ran ropes in the middle of the small network, pulling a sort of functional roof together. It wouldn’t keep out rain, but it would let the fire’s smoke out and warm up the space inside.

You apologized to the large man as you had to practically climb him and a few times as you worked. Two hours later you could start hauling the ropes, pulling the network taut, and creating a massive tent around the still-breathing giant of a man.

With the tent in place you began to clear out the snow. You weren’t far from where you lived so you were able to get some tools to make it easier, but it took another hour just to clear enough to start fire. Once you got the fire rolling you started clearing the snow away from the large man.

The more you cleared away, the more you were amazed he was alive at all. He was barely clothed. Pants, boots, and a sleeveless vest. The scarf wrapped around his shoulders and lower face was fluffy and probably warm, but not nearly warm enough. There was no way you’d be able to get him out of the little clothing he was wearing so you decide to set up a few smaller fires around him. If he moved when he woke up, he’d just snuff out the smaller fires, but the extra heat would help dry the clothes faster.

The only thing you had to get off him were the boots. Though it was tempting to just simply light them on fire directly, you had no way to hope to replace them. At least the rest of his clothes could’ve been replaced by the tarps, but shoes were another matter. If they didn’t dry fast enough his toes could rot or get frostbitten. Either way he could lose them, or die to the fever and risk of infection.

You didn’t just spend almost five hours of effort to have your mystery man die to complications after the fact.

Unfortunately, the boots were neither loose-fitting, nor buttoned, zippered, or otherwise clasped. After some fruitless tugging you pulled out your hunting knife and carefully cut down the side of one, and then the other, pulling them free and dragging them away. You set up another fire, and began the jog through the snow to get back to the cabin.

Towels, a sleeping bag, some dried food, a pot, one cup, one large bowl, herbs and tea, and back to your makeshift tent. You’d need to keep an eye on your patient throughout the night, and that meant keeping him dry, the fires going, and keeping yourself fed. It’d be another day at least before Maren was going to be able to ascend the mountain, and you’d just have to hope he decided to bring more food than was needed for the two of you when he did.

Getting back to the tent you see your patient hasn’t moved. If not for the steady breathing you’d be worried he was truly done for. The fires were doing an amazing job, and once you set all the gear down you had to take your coat off to avoid sweating in the toasty tent.

Grabbing a couple towels you began to dry his feet, using some dry soap and talc to help ward off any other risks of mold or rot. The sheer size of him was a bit boggling. You’d seen giants before, and he wasn’t nearly as large, but you’d seen giants roaming the flatlands while you were in the mountains. If they hadn’t been giants you wouldn’t have noticed them at all from such a distance.

Once his feet were taken care of, you tended all the little fires, and stoked the largest one. You let a little heat, and a lot of smoke out, with a kick to one of the flaps, letting the rush of air hurry the new smoke out of the top of the tent before it gathered too thickly.

Walking over to his head you regarded your patient, taking note of his appearance with an attentive eye. Your only concerns before now had been if he was alive or not, but taking a moment to actually look him over was… surprising.

He had handsome features, cropped reddish hair, and tattoos that laid easily over an impressive physique. There was an ease on his face right now that wasn’t reflected in the finer lines found there. Stress and worry were etched deep, but his current state of unconsciousness left him looking at peace.

Whatever weighed so heavily upon his shoulders while he was awake, it made little impact on his sleep. Or at least this sleep, as unbidden as it must have come.

Temptation pulled at the corners of your mind, a desire to pull the scarf away from his face. It wasn’t worn for warmth, not with the distinct lack of winter apparel overall. So it was only fair to think he wore it hide his features. It wouldn’t be quite right to sneak a peek when such was obviously avoided, but the curiosity was strong.

Before you could settle your internal struggle yourself, the main fire cracked loudly, drawing your attention back to it. You went around and tended the smaller fire first, kicking the tarp open for a second to rush the small accumulation of smoke clear before minding the main fire.

Once the fire was set you felt it.

A gaze upon your back.

Eyes that held you in place.

Even as your own gaze was frozen on the fire before you, you knew what was happening. An assessment. One that could end in gratitude.

Or not.

[softlantern]

Not having a wi-fi on a computer didn't stop me, lol. I had to edit and translate it on my phone, copying the text from computer to it.:"""D. Ugh, that was a pain and joy at the same time. Warning: I'm not so great at English (though at what language am I good at? Phphphp). I hope you will just have fun time reading it.:)💖💖

If someone here knows Russian, it is probably better on it. ":D Probably...

Collector through this in my mind became an unstable choleric, who still goes through all of his trauma, and tries his best, caring for those who chose to stay around him and care for him. :D I also tried to write a backstory fo him, hope @cutepotatook wouldn't mind my silly thoughts.-///-

Completely random fact, which I didn't get to talk about is that Helper and Layra learned with time to trust Collector to the extent of: "You can do any stupid shit 1000 of times and I will still trust you and believe that you will in one day do it right."

Did I make myself cry over this three cuties? Yes.:")💖💖

(Also, I've created their family in sims 3 and put into Collector's room a magical mirror after reading the "Have you always been dreaming of a friend who will gladly listen and talk to you?-". Bought. Immediately. He is the only one who keeps getting lonely, phphphp-- Layra rushes to the rescue of her favourite old man. It's feeding me ideas, lol)

[fostercare-expat]

It was an exhausting weekend with some high highs and some lows. Younger Brother got an eye infection so he had to stay home on Friday. So I came home early from work to relive my helper. Saturday was a pretty good day with some drama when Younger Brother tripped and you would have thought he broke his leg but he really just got a tiny scratch. He screamed the second he hit the ground, no waiting to assess how he actually felt, just straight to terror of being in pain. Later he limped around saying that he couldn’t straighten his leg because it would hurt. I pointed out that it doesn’t hurt right now so if he straighten his leg it might not hurt either. That sent him into a blubbering cry. He honestly is so scared of pain that he really feels it in anticipation. It’s going to take years of addressing this issue to change it, I think.

He was at his Mom’s house on Sunday, and I arranged to have my ex take the girls for the afternoon so my boyfriend and I got a precious few hours kid free which has barely happened lately. We biked to the beach to fly his drone, we stopped impromptu at the pizza place that’s always completely full but we managed to snag a pizza. He commented how nice it is to eat a pizza without Younger Daughter picking all the topings off and then leaving her crusts to be eaten. I’ve got to agree! We even went to açai too. And home again to a lovely empty house with an hour to spare. And we made good use of that hour. Younger Brother was dropped off at 7pm and he was in a foul mood just coming out of the car. Transitioning from home back to my house is really tough for him. He was clearly doing everything he could to get himself into a temper tantrum. I did some great parenting but it wasn’t enough to fight the trauma monster and he ended up screaming all the bad words at me, which he has barely done before and he even tried to hit me a few times, managing to pop me in the mouth which thankfully only hurt a little, but that’s never happened before. He’s been with me for 6 months now. I would have hoped things would be more stable by now but they aren’t.

I’m going to start setting the expectations that on Sundays nights after he gets home that he eats if he is hungry, then gets ready for bed and can just play alone in the room until he falls asleep. He just can’t handle more on Sundays. And I can’t handle him.

[capypub]

Without Warning - Mafia!Joel Miller Scene 11

Mafia!Joel Miller x OFC

Rating: T (language mostly lmao)

Summary: Joel gets to experience a little domestic bliss after the chaos and comforts his Baby Girl. More fluff content.

Masterlist

Laying together under the covers, she’d been dozing in and out while Joel was content to hold her, occasionally playing with her hair or running his hands along her body softly. Both were completely spent, exhausted from rekindling their relationship. Indi made a noise, stirring awake again. 

“What time is it?” she mumbled into his chest, her arm tightening around his stomach where she had latched onto him. 

“2:30AM,” Joel said softly, looking at her with pure adoration, his arm tight around her shoulders, keeping her as close as possible, “Pizza’s probably cold,” he joked, making her giggle. 

“I’m starving,” she sighed, “But I don’t want to get up,” she added, making him scoff in amusement. 

“Let’s get you some food, baby, I don’t even want to know when the last time you had a real meal was,” he yawned, sliding his arm out from beneath her head and sitting up. 

“You really don’t,” she said, partially joking, partially guilty, knowing how he was about the subject. 

Looking at her over his shoulder with a slight glare, he shook his head. She watched him get dressed, cuddled into the sheets, looking so small in the large bed. She eventually got out of bed and redressed as well, allowing Joel to take her hand and lead her downstairs to the familiar kitchen. 

Sitting at the island, she watched him search around the pantry and fridge for something to eat. It was too late to get something delivered and he definitely didn’t feel like finding a drive-through after giving a hundred and twenty percent to her in the bedroom. 

“I’m okay with cold pizza, Joel, really,” she tried to insist as he continued opening cabinets.

He scoffed. “There isn’t anymore pizza, baby, these boys go through food like it’s a competition.”

“Well, then I’ll cook,” she shrugged, hopping down from the stool to assess the contents of his fridge. 

“Come on now, darlin’, go sit down, you shouldn’t be movin’ around this much, your body needs time to heal,” he tried to argue, going over to shut the fridge and herd her back to her chair.

“You weren’t saying that an hour ago,” she smirked up at him, spinning on her heel so that her chest was pressed to his, the counter trapping her in place. 

He grinned with a shake of his head. “That was different, plus I’m pretty sure you were layin’ down for most of it,” he teased, ducking his head to place a soft peck on her lips making her giggle. 

“Not by choice, I remember,” she tried to argue with a playful grin, poking his chest. 

He hummed, reaching around to grab her ass. “How do you feel about Chef Boyardee?” he suggested. 

She grimaced slightly. “Do you keep some around for Ellie or something?” she asked. 

He chuckled. “No, baby, I keep it around for me, when I’m working late and need something quick,” he shrugged, shifting a little awkwardly as she peered up at him going quiet for a long moment.

“You can’t cook, can you?” she finally asked, grinning when his face gave away the answer before he could speak. 

“I can cook, just…not as many things as some people,” he admitted sheepishly. 

She continued giving him that look, peering up through her lashes at his face, like she was able to look into his mind and find the answer. He squeezed her hip bone, making her squeak at the ticklish sensation, twisting away from his hand. 

“Name one thing you can cook,” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest with a knowing smirk.

“...Hamburger Helper.”

Her laughter, even though it was at his expense, flooded his chest with warmth. This felt right. The two of them in his kitchen, happy…in love. He contemplated saying the words to her, but feared she might think it’s due to her kidnapping, to the stress of all that’s happened, a delusion that could change after everything calms down. So, he held his tongue, already knowing what the words sounded like from her lips, in a way, but dying to say the same to her. 

“Alright, so I’ll make something really quick that’s not from a box,” she teased, kissing his cheek, “And you can sit here and look pretty for me.”

Joel couldn’t help his own laughter that echoed around the kitchen. It was nice to see the fire in her hadn’t died completely. He couldn’t argue with her, not when she looked so good moving around his kitchen, occasionally glancing over her shoulder at him with a light blush and that cute little grin. He didn’t say this to her, but her food had him ready to have a ring delivered overnight. 

They did eventually talk about “everything” after eating, settling outside on the balcony, two pre-rolls ready. The house was quiet, but they both knew men lingered here and there, most likely knowing to keep out of their boss’s way. Passing the joint back and forth, Joel told his story, keeping it short but thorough. She listened closely, nodding and stopping him to ask questions when necessary. This time around, she didn’t put a wall up, rather, she settled into his lap while he talked, stretching her legs out across the swinging bench. 

“You just don’t look the part, Joel,” she shrugged with a giggle, her head on his shoulder as he used his foot to rock them gently while they talked. 

“Oh? And what am I ‘spose to look like, sweetheart?” he indulged her with his lips pressed to the crown of her head, one hand drawing patterns on her bare thigh while the other wrapped around her lower back and held her to his chest. 

She laughed into his shirt, blushing a little. “You know, blacked out SUVs with the bullet proof windows, scary bodyguards following you around, tattoos in Russian or something…and you only wear suits when you absolutely have to, so…,” she shrugged, with an adorable shit-eating grinning. 

“Well, sorry to disappoint, baby girl,” he chuckled.

“It’s not though,” she shook her head, brushing her nose along his jaw, “I like this version better.” 

He hummed softly, enjoying the sensation of her mouth on his neck, closing his eyes briefly. When she stopped, he looked down to find her looking at her legs, where his hand had stopped moving, spreading across her thigh.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, rubbing her arm soothingly. 

“I just…the bruises are kind of hard to look at…I’m sorry,” she huffed, blinking back the beginnings of tears.

“Hey, it’s alright, sweetheart. They’ll be gone soon,” he tried to soothe her, bringing his hand to hold her jaw and tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

“They’re just really…ugly,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as her lower lip trembled.

“Hey, hey, baby girl, don’t cry, it’s okay,” he cooed, sitting a little straighter and bringing her head down to rest against his shoulder, “What’s got you so bothered about ‘em exactly?” he asked softly, wanting to understand better. 

“Th-they’re just…it makes me feel ugly,” she said slowly, “You always tell me how…pretty I am and…I don’t know, seeing them makes me not…” she stammered, gripping his shirt tightly as she tried to keep her breathing even, frustrated with her lack of words.

“Baby girl, hey, look at me,” Joel said softly, shifting her to sit up and meet his eyes so he could wipe the tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.

At first, she kept avoiding his eyes, her gaze dropping as he brushed the stray tears away with his thumb. He kissed her softly, waiting until she could look him in the eyes for more than five seconds. 

“Darlin’ you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. Some cuts and bruises don’t change that,” he stated, stroking her cheek with his thumb, his grip on her jaw firm, “Everything about you is beautiful, sweetheart, you’re everything I person could ask for and I mean that…I’m addicted and I’ll never get enough of you,” he added, kissing her tenderly. 

“Even when I almost cry every time I see a stray?” she teased.

He smirked with a shrug. “There ain’t nothin’ ‘bout you that don’t do somethin’ for me, baby girl,” he said, kissing her again, slow and soft, savoring the moment.

“Is…is that from a song?” she asked when she pulled back, her brows scrunching adorably. 

“Maybe,” Joel mumbled against her lips, chasing her mouth, “Might play it for you one day,” he added, bringing his hand up to the back of her neck and pulling her down for a deeper kiss.

Scene 12

[lunicho]

What are your hard thoughts about this? :

https://twitter.com/riwoo_archive/status/1751786898014777787?t=F2txX6k8GR-mxBcGfgUa5A&s=19

He looks dominant here🌝

(send bnd asks to @angeltsan)

link

hmm,,, thinking abt ceo! riwoo having u as his office assistant,, running all his errands like the good obedient little helper that you are,, asks u to stay behind after a meeting so he can "assess your performance" when in reality he just wants to praise u for being such a good girl.. even let's u sit in his chair. he'd place his hands on your shoulders, leaning down to your ear to tell you just how much he appreciates you and all your hard work,, how he loves having you around cuz he'd be a wreck without u.. he'd start going on and on about how he wants to repay you.. and before u know it he has u pressed against his desk, his lips on yours. you'd grip onto his tie, pulling him closer into the kiss.. his glasses would fog up as u kiss, making him smile against ur lips. he'd lift u onto his desk, roughing up your button up shirt in the process,,

[paw-patrol-pack-leader]

Yeah, Robo-Dog is great and I'm glad you have so much passion in developing it, but I have to say, hearing you talk so much about Robo-Dog and his abilities makes me worry a little about the pups.

Due to the progress that Robo-Dog is on right now, it may come to a point where you don't need the pups at all, and just replace them with a whole team of Robo-Dog's.

That legitimately scares me

"I would never do that! As great as Robo-Dog is, he will never be a replacement for my pups, be it the current ones or any others I might adopt in the future."

"Robo-Dog is a robot, he can malfunction, and it already happened quite a few times before. It's not impossible to hack into his system and operate him remotely, communication can be jammed to prevent him from operating at all, he's not indestructible, his batteries can go out or get damaged, magnetic fields can disrupt his systems, the list goes on and on."

"Not to mention I can't possibly program him for virtually any situation that might happen ever for him to know how to respond and act when things go different than planned. He can assess situations and find something alike to try and adapt, but he can't really improvise, which is an essential skill that's needed for a Search & Rescue team."

"If I were to have a team made only of programmed robots, even with an advanced adapting AI such as Robo-Dog's, one single issue could put the entire team down. It hardly can happen with the pups all at once. We might use Robo-Dog for driving so we can focus on our missions and rescues, we can send him to dangerous missions where we can't go, exactly on the goal of keeping my pups safe, but I will never replace them like that. Robo-Dog is here to be our helper, maybe our last resource when we can't act for whatever reason, but he's not a replacement, he's just a member of our team like any other, with his own special tasks, duties and job."

"And on a last note, the very pups know I won't replace them with robots. They accepted Robo-Dog from the very start as a member of the team, Rocky himself helped me to build him. There was no uneasiness, no jealousy, none of them felt not even slightly wary. They supported me on developing Robo-Dog for our team and now they care for him just as much as me. I've even seem some of them whimpering sometimes, like they're mourning somehow when he was taken down, and they wouldn't be back to normal until I'd fix him back up."

[ladyloveandjustice]

The Liveblogyssey! (Part 2)

It's been a little while but it's time for more liveblogging The Odyssey! See the liveblog from the beginning here.

So what’s happening with Penelope while Telemachus is off gallivanting around?

Well the suitors are plotting to kill Telemachus as soon as he gets back, which Penelope’s house boy informs her of, and to which she responds “wait a fucking second, he LEFT? Without telling me? And none of you said anything?”

And everyone says "well in our defense he didn’t want us to tell you because he thought you would stop him” and she’s like “YEAH!!! I WOULD HAVE!”

I love this one guy who’s just like “well he’ll either come back home or he’s met his fate”. Super comforting, thank you for your contribution.

Penelope goes to her room to cry and pray to Athena. So Athena decides to show up in Penelope’s dreams in disguise and use that opportuniy do a shameless self plug. I’m not kidding it's like

Athena (in disguise): Don't worry about your husband, girl,  he’s got Athena in his corner. She’s a helper many men have prayed to have! She has great power! She’s the COOLEST god, the BEST god perhaps--

Penelope: Uh. Are you actually Athena? Because I feel like you’re Athena. Athena please tell me where my husband is”

Athena: who knows. Bye.

Athena then goes up to Zeus and is like “okay so Telemachus is going to die if we don’t do something, do you feel like helping out. At all.” And Zeus is like “daughter, this was all your idea in the first place??? You wanted him to go on a heroic quest right??? Figure it out” But he does send Hermes to tell Calypso to stop imprisoning and raping Odysseus.

Calypso points out this is a fairly hypocritical thing for Zeus to scold her about (true), and why is it okay for Gods like Zeus to rape mortals and toy with them but when Goddesses do it SUDDENLY IT’S A BIG DEAL? HASHTAG DOUBLE STANDARDS.

Calypso is literally the shallow lean-in type feminist who wants women to be equal simply so we can be corrupt CEOS and oppress more people like men get to do and that’s so funny. Some things are timeless.

I mean yeah, she’s technically right that it’s unfair, but girl, is Zeus what we want to aspire to here? Can we not aim higher?

She also mentions that every time a Goddess takes a mortal lover people kill that man and cites Demeter and Iason (saying Zeus killed him because double standards) and Dawn (Eos) and Orion (saying Artemis killed Orion because double standards).

So of course I had to look them up! The thing with Zeus definitely does reek of double standards, Demeter slept with a dude (CONSENSUALLY TOO! Amazing!) and Zeus got jealous and immediately killed him with a lightning bolt. He and Hera really do have some things in common!

But while there are several myths about Orion and Artemis, I don’t see any ones where her killing him had anything to do with him being a lover of Eos. In fact her reasons for killing him are either extremely justified or she does it accidentally. She either killed him because he raped this girl (valid and correct), she can kill him because he tries to assault HER. A GODDESS. (Dumb bitch definitely deserved to die for that).

Then there's the second-funniest version of Orion’s death. Basically Apollo notices Artemis has been hanging out with him too much when she should be spending time with HIM, so while Orion’s swimming, Apollo points to the dark shape in the distance, is like “bet you can’t hit that with your arrow! bet you can’t!” and Artemis is like “Yes the fuck I can!” and then kills Orion. Siblings are always pulling those silly little pranks!!!

(The absolute FUNNIEST way Orion can die is when he’s hanging out with Artemis, brags he’s going to hunt and kill every animal on earth,Gaia’s like “bitch no you won’t” and kills him with a giant scorpion)

Anyway, where was I. Yeah so Calypso’s assessment of why Artemis killed Orion appears to possibly be inaccurate.

Calypso goes down to Odysseus who’s just been sitting there on the beach sobbing about how much he misses home. Apparently he's been doing this every single day but Calypso just now decided to notice. He also talks of “not wanting her even though she still wanted him” Definitely rape!

There is an possible implication it might have been consensual at one point with the specific phrasing in this translation “she no longer pleased him”. Doesn’t matter if it was since you can take back your consent at any time, so it IS rape now regardless, but boy the people who are like “he never cheated on Penelope how dare you imply!!!" are going to hate me acknowledging this ambiguous phrasing, huh.

So when Calypso tells him he can get on a raft and go home, he’s like “yeah. So. I don’t believe you. You’re 100% going to murder me on that raft, lady.” and can you blame him?

Calypso gives him clothes but before he leaves she makes sure to be like “I don’t get why you’re so into your wife. I’m definitely hotter than her. Look at me. Look at my sexy body. Also I’m taller than her too.” (It comes up a couple time that women being tall is apparently desirable in Ancient Greece, which is an interesting reminder that beauty standards are fake and change constantly throughout time and cultures).

So Odysseus goes sailing off but Poseidon sees him while hanging out with his horses and says “nuh uh” and makes the sea all deadly. Odysseus is just ready to give up, going “I seriously wish the Trojans has killed me at this point, it’s better than having gods torturing me endlessly at least I would have gotten a funeral.” Poor guy.

Fortunately a passing goddess Ino takes pity and helps him. And! She says! “Why does enraged Poseidon create an odyssey of pain for you?” That’s right! Even Ancient Literature know the art of the title drop! And that’s a good place to pause for now.