#restarting is unhelpful

[sl33py-g4m3r]

ramble about me constantly restarting games ~~~ why tho~~~? y i do this? -_-;;

I wish I wasn't such a serial game restarter~~ idk why I do this to begin with~~

I hope I don't do it with Pokemon violet cause I've almost got all of the pokedexes complete~~~ just need some version exclusives from scarlet, as well as all the legendary treats~~ but you got to multiplayer for the other version's ones and neither me nor my sibling are in a pokemon playing mood I think~~ sadly~~

a note to myself to not restart pokemon violet~~ we're almost done baby~~

but nope~~ this post was concerning specifically animal crossing new horizons~~~

I was using a cataloging app on my phone to track donations to the museum, diys, items I had, everything really~~

I stopped playing that particular island for like a year and then restarted cause I got bored I guess?

so now my island and cataloging efforts are back at square one again.

and I was almost done with the museum and had helf of the DIY recipes~~ and was ALMOST at blue roses again~~

got to blue roses on one of my islands, restarts immediately afterwards.

I'm never going to 100% the game like this~~ which was why I was cataloging everything to begin with~~

how do I not get bored of animal crossing (or any game really) so I can actually either just beat the game, or actually 100% without restarting??

this behavior isn't helpful~~ why am I like this?

also is connecting your island to the Nintendo online app worth it to do? I've done that with many of my others previously and now don't know how to delete them off the nook link app cause I don't have those islands anymore....

I think there are items you can only get from that~~ so I'd assume it's worth it to keep paying for NSO just to use nook link and get those items~~~

which is kind of dumb~~~

what else is nook link good for tho? I don't get it~~~

TLDR: I serially restart games I intend on hopefully eventually 100% dropping me back at square one again~~ idk why I do this unless I either don't like the setup, or get bored~~~ or don't play for a while~~ I need to knock it off and chill out~~

games like these are supposed to be a chill experience~~ not a "get everything done as fast as possible" grind fest like I play them~~ I'm not a speedrunner~~

but yeah this behaviour isn't helpful to 100% how do I stop this? especially in regards to Animal Crossing New Horizons?? cause restarting my island was what got me to make this long text wall to begin with~~

help~~

[bitegore]

Blows my computer up with my mind

[iridiss]

Mystreet AU where all of the Phoenix Drop High staff are the divine warriors. MCD!Aphmau is a reincarnation of the last Irene, and she restarted the world when the final battle against Shad was going poorly, and Mystreet was created instead, with MCD!Aphmau being reincarnated into Mystreet!Aphmau. The other Divine Warriors (including the first Irene), were recycled into this school with no powers and new lives, completely powerless to the universal change that Aphmau has made. So now they’re forced to adapt to this new world and blend in, whether they like it or not, effectively trapped in this school until they can figure out what the hell happened, and somehow undo it. They all have retained most or all of their memories from their previous life. This makes staff meetings incredibly awkward

Shad is the principal, he runs this school very begrudgingly. He hates his job, but hey, he was able to lead an army in Hell! How much harder can leading highschoolers be?

Irene is the school counselor. The only one. She still has no emotions. This makes her not very successful at her job, but hey, she tries. The students are theorizing that she and the principal are divorced, or exes in some way or another, because of the incredibly grudge-filled looks they keep giving each other. They are forced to work in vague proximity with one another, and no one is enjoying it. They have to maintain workplace diplomacy and after learning what kind of world Shad is trapped in now, he realizes that he can’t actually kill her unless he wants to be arrested and thrown in jail forever. Which would suck ass, because he’s pretty certain the source of their new predicament is somewhere in this school alongside them, and if he wants any luck at getting out, he’s going to have to play along.

Irene and Shad are at least able to remain thinly diplomatic with one another. Shad and Esmund, however—never in a million years will they be civil with one another. They have gotten in very confusing shouting matches in front of the kids before. And yet Esmund never gets fired, (…i don’t think Shad has figured out that he can do that yet…) so the kids start to spread rumors that Esmund is hooking up with or used to be hooking up with the principal. Esmund and Shad find out, and all of the students get in ungodly amounts of trouble for this.

Enki tried to reconnect with his old friend Shad at some point. It didn’t go well. He left his office as quickly as he came in at the first sight of his glare.

It becomes surprisingly easy (and very existential crisis-inducing) to finally be able to tell Aphmau and Irene apart when they’re two entirely separate people standing in the same room. Shad realizes that this Aphmau is probably what caused this, but problem 1. She doesn’t remember a damn thing and is therefore extremely unhelpful, and problem 2. That’s A Child. That’s A Literal Actual Child. That’s some 13yo baby that is entirely innocent and bright-eyed and oblivious to anything and everything that went down in her past lives. And in my mind, Shad has a soft spot for children. Like, a HUGE soft spot, because he used to be a father and his daughter meant the world to him. He’d do anything to get her back and protect her from all the horrors that he could not save her from. Thats his entire villain motivation. Thats the entire reason why he hates Irene and becomes The Shadow Lord and raises an army and pillages the world and everything else. The Shad in my head would be physically incapable of hurting a child.

So I can see Shad calling Aphmau into his office very early in the first semester, ready to confront her and duel all over again…only to realize that, no, this is an separate, innocent child who remembers nothing and might even be an entirely different reincarnation of who she was before. Her memories might even be wiped, completely inaccessible and gone forever. He has an existential crisis, awkwardly apologizes and plays it off as some sort of joke, asks if she needs anything (putting back on his “I’m a normal human being” mask). She says she needs directions to her classes, so he scrounges up a random map and hands it to her and sends her off. He re-evaluates everything he’s known for the past 900 years.

Shad becoming strangely protective of 13yo Aphmau,,, this is just some kid,, he’s forced to re-evaluate everything and adjusts how he sees his students. From “oh good a new army I’m gonna have to mold from scratch /sarc” to “i…i have gone from zero children…to thousands…. thousands of children put under my care…i need to protect all of them at once” man goes mega mother hen mode, especially since his dangerous traitorous ex-wife is in the same building as them, he definitely sees her and the other divine warriors as threats to his kids.

Irene bringing Aphmau into her office as well, but she approaches things very differently from Shad. She cuts straight to the chase, and tells Aphmau she needs to remember. She’s done something terrible, and needs to reverse it and put the world back in order. She needs to remember her old life and become the newest Irene, take on all the power and the responsibility that being a Goddess entails, and set everything right. 13yo Aphmau freaks out, confused and lost. Irene lays the pressure on hard, and keeps pushing when Aphmau insists that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Shad opens the door, sensing she was here with her, and looks like he’s doing everything in his power to hold himself back from punching her square in the face. They have a very terse, carefully worded micro-argument, and Shad insists Aphmau must return to her classes, her education is more important than anything Irene has to stay to her. He gets very protective of her and basically professional-business-talk tells her to fuck right off and never speak to her again. Aphmau is still confused. He ushers her out, and awkwardly asks if she’s alright. She says…i…think…so???? What just happened??? Shad tells her to be careful around that woman, and don’t believe a word she says. She’s full of lies, anyway. Aphmau’s like. you mean the school counselor???????? It’s a very strange day for Aphmau.

insert the kids joking about how Garroth/travis/aaron/Aphmau must be related to certain members of the staff here

[rpclefairy]

how to use xkit rewritten / trim reblogs on mobile:

updated for december 2022

this method is beta editor / npf compatible

my previous tutorial to trim posts technically still works, but as tumblr is discontinuing legacy posts that method is already outdated and unhelpful for people who have no other option than to use the beta editor.

but fear not! i've figured out how to use xkit rewritten on mobile and it's VERY easy.

install "firefox nightly for developers" OR "firefox beta for testers". must be one of these two, not regular firefox.

go to settings, scroll down to the "about firefox" page at the end and then click on the logo 5 times until debug mode is enabled.

back to settings and below add-ons you'll see the 'custom add-ons collections' option.

add 17683742 as the ID and name it 'tumblr' like so:

the browser will give you a little pop up that the extension is being added and the app is being restarted.

now enter the app again, go to the add-ons section and xkit rewritten should be loaded there. i've included ublock in the collection so you can use both because you absolutely should.

on firefox beta you'll see the extension with a +, click on it to add it.

now cut your replies the same way you do it on desktop with xkit rewritten!

save the post as a draft

click on the scissor button

it's done!

please consider that this is experimental so not all of xkit rewritten's features will work on mobile. trim reblogs does work though!

i still recommend using my roleplay formatter for formatting your replies and then copy pasting the html on your reblog.

other useful links :

this post explains the differences between the two editors and why we're switching.

this post is a tutorial on how xkit rewritten's 'trim reblogs' feature works.

[battywitch]

I gave in and have restarted Grimm 👍 I forgot how unhelpful aunt Marie was in the pilot, and how fucking funny Monroe was, like with the window dive and telling Nick he was going to pay to replace it 😂

[burgerdrome]

Are you still a fan of Warhammer? I hope it’s been long enough that you aren’t scared of this restarting anything but like, I’m a fan myself and everyone I know is also one, and your article gave me some uncomfortable feelings of “what’s the woke way to enjoy this” lol

Hello! Thank you for the delightful question and thank you also for allowing me to be part of the authentic Tumblr experience of receiving an inbox message from a questionable username.

So I guess I think the question about whether there's a "woke way" to enjoy Warhammer is an unhelpful way to think about it (or about anything). It's okay to enjoy a pretend game about silly clanking armoured men just in the same way it's okay to enjoy a pretend video game where you drive a car over the speed limit.

I think a lot of leftists get caught up in ethical hand-wringing and sort of paralysed by how to move forward with something but the reality of participation in a capitalist system is that while you can be conscientious about your choices, at the end of the day you still have to, you know, make those choices. There isn't a perfect way to do it - there is no ethical consumption under capitalism!

One of the great things about the Warhammer hobby - hell, just about all tabletop gaming hobbies - is that the companies who make the products simply cannot stop you from buying them, building them, and playing with them in the way that you want. The fact that Warhammer (hell, D&D too, etc) is essentially imagination layered on top of painted bits of plastic means that the barrier to entry, and the conditions under which a corporation can control your entry, are astonishingly low.

But of course this means that a huge chunk of potential profit is going missing. One of the big ways that Games Workshop - hell, just about all tabletop gaming companies, really - has tried to maximise their profits in recent years has been to attempt to normalise the idea that to "play Warhammer" is to engage in brand loyalty rather than personal creativity - in other words, to own as much of your potential hobby ecosystem as possible.

Purchase your official Warhammer model from the official Warhammer store (good luck getting a pre-order from a local games store which has been deliberately understocked!), clip it from the sprue using official Citadel clippers, glue it with Citadel plastic glue while you're watching the official Warhammer Plus "loremasters" show, basecoat it with Citadel spray, make sure to play it using the new rules we released 3 months ago and which we will update in another book in 3 months time (which you will need to buy, you don't want to miss out!) etc, etc, etc. Deeply tiresome shit.

(Illustrative side note: Recently I saw a post on Facebook marketplace with someone saying "Can someone sell me a pair of Citadel clippers, my last ones broke!" Someone immediately responded to recommend going to buy a pair at Bunnings for $5, and the person legitimately had to be convinced that they were the same product and weren't going to, in some way, "hurt" the models.)

Of course while GW has a long history of trying to trick baffled Christmas aunties into buying spray paint from their stores for $30 instead of from Bunnings for $10, when I got into Warhammer in 1997 DIY creativity was explicitly encouraged and that was pretty much the whole point - Games Workshop literally published books telling you to go to construction sites to find basing sand, to repurpose old cardboard boxes to make buildings and walls, to use guitar strings to make power cables, to write your own missions, to invent your own Chapters (with rules to do so), to build your own characters and leaders, etc, etc. And I did! And it kicked ass.

The old codexes are full of examples of people scratchbuilding whole terrain sets, converting up models for characters that GW couldn't be arsed to provide - that sort of "make it your own! exercise your creativity!" ethos was baked into the very DNA of the hobby, and it has always stuck with me, even as GW has tried to backpedal away from it and focus on "how well can YOU paint OUR kits?"

So now for me I look at Warhammer the same way I might look at an art supply store. Yes I can buy one particular brand of paint or one particular brand of canvas when looking at doing up a new watercolour, but ultimately it's about picking what I think is going to allow me to exercise my creativity the most, or what I enjoy working with.

And when I do throw dice (I am a busy full-time employee with a mortgage and now mostly play small scale Kill Team skirmish games) I play against extremely chill people who have straight-up 3D printed accessories or whole models, or play in my local games club on old Malifaux terrain on a third party game mat, or whatever.

I buy all my models second hand online or purchase out-of-production things at swap meets. I use third-party paints and brushes, and 3D print up conversion parts that I need which I purchase online. I engage with the hobby on my terms and look at it as a way to express my own creativity, or as a series of building blocks to assemble in whichever way I see fit, because that's what makes me happy. Ultimately Games Workshop's colour schemes, lore, etc are (and only ever can be) suggestions - the only difference is that they used to explicitly tell you as much and encourage you to play around, and now they strongly encourage the opposite.

This isn't to cast shade on anyone who just buys GW models and paints them with GW paints or whatever. Doing that isn't somehow a fascist act or a one way ticket to Cancel Jail. They make some nice fucking models! And tbqh their Contrast paints are the best in class for that sort of thing (Army Builder "Speed Paint" ones suck ass).

Buying little toy dolls from companies (at least companies which aren't openly funding genocide) is only a problem if we do so uncritically or treat those little toy dolls as sacred idols and allow them to consume our personalities. That's when you end up with weird right-wing 40K Lore Youtubers with aquila tattoos.

[thru-the-grapevine]

[10:11 PM] “Are you done yet?”

“Not yet.”

“How about now?”

“Still no.”

“…..now?”

“Jisung!”

“I’m bored!”

You sigh, both exasperated and strangely endeared. “Give me, like, ten more minutes, okay? I just need to finish the chapter. Then I’ll have all the information I need for the meeting tomorrow and we can do something fun.”

“Ugh, fineeeee,” Jisung sighs, loud and dramatic, and flops his head into your lap. You ignore his dramatics, flipping the page and continuing to read.

By some miracle, he manages to be quiet for two whole minutes, playing gently with your free hand.

“You’ve got such tiny hands, love.”

You sigh, restarting the paragraph you’re on. “Only in comparison to yours.”

“No, they’re actually tiny,” Jisung insists, and you attempt to ignore the way he presses little kisses into the pad of each finger. “So, so small.”

“Jisung, just five more minutes, please.”

“Mmmhmm,” he hums, pressing his lips into the center of your palm. You grit your teeth against how your heart wants to react and keep reading, determined to at least scan the rest of the chapter in the next five minutes.

Jisung sits up next to you, still playing with your hand. He flips your hand over and starts leaving little kisses on each knuckle, peppering the back of your hand with several more before working his way up your wrist.

“Jisung, stop,” you insist, laughing and pulling your hand away. “I swear I’ll be done so soon.”

He huffs and moves to sit behind you against the headboard, wrapping his arms around you and tucking you back against him.

It's rather nice, sitting like this. Comfy, even. You think you may have finally gotten Jisung to settle down as you flip to the last page. But of course you should have known better. Especially when you feel his lips ghosting along your neck.

“You are so unhelpful,” you huff, voice more breathless than you'd like it to be.

Jisung smiles against your skin, trailing a few soft kisses up the expanse of your neck. You stare blankly at the last page, trying to keep your breathing normal.

“Pay attention to meeeee,” he singsongs softly against the shell of your ear, and you groan.

“Fine,” you mutter, snapping the book shut and twisting around in his embrace.

Jisung’s grin is more than a little smug, and you’re sure how flustered you’ve become is written all over your face.

“Read something embarrassing in that book, love?” He teases, letting his hands rest on your hips.

“Shut up,” you mumble before leaning in and capturing his mouth with yours.

(You remember just enough to survive through the meeting. Concepts from the end of the chapter didn’t seem to stick, for some odd reason.)

[redtail-lol]

I sought help from Samsung support for my volume issues and this bitch named Rajesh somehow locked my phone in safe mode (restarted it 4 times it didn't help) now the other idiots at Samsung support are being more unhelpful than a bag of rocks kill me

[myrthing]

I'm maybe going to a knitting meet up tonight, but I don't want to knit*. Currently the craft I've been feeling most is sewing, but the sewing projects I have are... maybe not the greatest idea to take anywhere. They're an eye cushion that's to be filled with linseed, and a heating pillow. That I'm going to fill with rice.

The secondary project is making covers for both of those, but I've been warned about the poor lighting in the meet up spot, and I'm using black thread on dark green fabric. That's been bad enough at home, with lamps.

So right now I'm just faffing about, trying to think of something I could do with the limited materials I have at home, and I still feel most like sewing. Unhelpful, brain!! I think the only thing I can plausibly improvise is embroidery, but I really don't wanna lmao

*If I knit I have to acknowledge my pandemic sweater that I started for a January 2020 knitting meet up. I have worked on it once in the four years since. It was in February of 2022, when the meet ups were restarting. I am not a committed crafter without some external motivation.

[vibingouthere]

it's been a long time coming since I've seen your face

Just a lil something I felt like writing because I needed a break from my long fic and Kai wasn't in 19x01. Fluff. Rated G.

It came to my attention yesterday that October 7th was the anniversary of Kai's first episode, so. ENJOY! (cross-posted on AO3, link at bottom)

“What’s she doing?”

They were leaning on the doorframe of OR 3’s gallery, conveniently out of her line of sight. They could see her hands holding instruments on the monitor, pushing and pulling and cutting and sewing brain tissue, but Kai couldn’t tell what she was actually trying to accomplish. Occasionally, her voice would filter through the speakers in the room, but it was usually skill-related advice—ultimately unhelpful for their purposes… 

They hadn’t seen her in person in a month and a half. She was supposed to fly out next week but earlier that morning Kai found themself unable to wait anymore. With the loss of the residency program, the trips out to Minnesota had become far more sporadic and spaced out; they’d visit Seattle when they could but, much like her responsibility to the neuro department, they had a lab to run. 

Truthfully, it was eating them up inside, how unexpectedly difficult it was to manage in her absence (both in the lab and otherwise), but they were being brave about it: after all, the residency program had officially restarted a handful of days ago. It could only head up from there.  

The intern they’d whispered to was sitting near the door; he was tall and skinny looking, a hard-set frown on his face, with a tiny notebook laying in his lap. There were a few others in the room—five, they counted—all quietly observing Amelia work through the windows and monitors. 

“Are you even supposed to be here?” he quietly quipped, his eyes giving them a once over. It was a fair question—they weren’t wearing their white coat and didn’t have so much as a name tag identifying who they might be. 

“Technically, no,” they chuckled. “But, I don’t think she’ll mind.”

He grunted, flipping through the pages in his notes. A peek at the badge on his shirt told them his name was Dr. Benson Kwan. He seemed a bit high-strung if they were being honest—perhaps not the best person to disturb, but they were in it now.

Hindsight was always 20/20.

“You should probably leave,” he suddenly remarked, briefly glancing up at them. “Dr. Shepherd is a really strict teacher. I don’t think she’d appreciate a random person just popping into the OR gallery.”

They snorted, both at the idea that Amelia could ever be strict and at the insinuation that they were “random”. 

“It’s a teaching hospital, no?” they countered.

“For residents,” he insisted.

“I’m a doctor,” they playfully shrugged. 

“A doctor who can’t tell what surgery she’s doing?” he loudly scoffed. The other interns turned their heads at the sound of his raised voice, now watching the interaction from their seats. 

Their eyebrows shot up, dumbfounded yet entertained by his gall. “Did you just call me dumb?” they tittered.

“Well, if the shoe fits,” he muttered angrily, again fiddling with his notes. Another one of the interns, a woman with reddish-brown hair, twisted around in her seat.

“Blue, don’t be mean,” she chastised him. “They were just asking you a question. There’s no need to get snooty.” 

Kai gave her a small, appreciative smile and she nodded at them. 

“If they want to ask a question so bad, they can ask her,” he grumbled, gesturing to the OR. “I’m here to learn, not teach.” 

Abruptly, he stood and moved to the other side of the room, half-glaring at them once he sat down. The other interns looked between them, clearly confused, while the one girl gave them an apologetic frown. 

Kai glanced at their wristwatch. More than anything they needed to know how long she was going to be… The OR clock told them she’d already been down there for three hours—surely, whatever she was doing wouldn’t take too much longer? Or it could take the rest of the day… It’s not a terrible idea…

With a sigh, they pushed off the doorframe and headed over to the intercom. From their peripheral, they could see the interns’ baffled faces watching their every move; even Dr. Kwan had paused his hurried notetaking to witness the spectacle unfold. 

They clicked on the intercom, its warm static filling the room. 

“Shepherd, where’d you get these new interns? They’re so moody.”

They saw her hands stall on the monitor, her head snapping up to look at them through the windows. 

“Kai?” she called, clearly bewildered. She was squinting behind the magnifying glasses on her head. They smiled at the sight. 

“Hello,” they greeted with a wave. 

“What-what’re you doing here?” she sputtered, carefully handing her instruments off to a scrub nurse. 

“Time-sensitive, top-secret mission,” they replied with a grin. 

“Is that so?” she asked, an amused lilt to her voice. “So time-sensitive that it couldn’t wait until next week?”

“Exactly,” they affirmed with a nod. 

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got at least another hour here. Does that work for you?”

They gazed at their watch again: 10:36 p.m., October 7th, 2022. 

“It’ll be cutting it close… but I think that’ll work,” they answered. 

“Great,” she chirped, motioning to the scrub nurse to hand her another scalpel. “You’re welcome to hang out up there if you want.”

They barked out a laugh, sparing a glance at the interns over their shoulder: not a closed jaw in sight. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” she smirked, resuming the surgery. 

They clicked off the intercom and headed for the door. As their foot passed the threshold, they could hear scuffling behind them, followed by what sounded like a dull smack. They overheard the other male intern say, “Dude. You just called Kai Bartley dumb.”

There were a few gasps. 

“Who?” Dr. Kwan asked. 

Another smack. “Dude!”

Kai snickered as they walked away.

~~~~~

They’d made it back in the knick of time: they found Amelia in the scrub room, washing her hands. Another successful surgery in the books. They beamed as they spotted her through the door, quickly pushing it open. 

“Hey!” she greeted happily. “I was wondering where you’d gone off t—”

They rushed forward and pulled her into a kiss, their hands cradling her jaw. She gasped into their mouth, steadying herself by grabbing the front of their shirt: they felt a slight chill run across their skin, the water from her hands seeping through the fabric. 

“Time-sensitive, huh?” she panted against their lips.

“Very,” they said, diving back in for more. Their right hand moved down from her face to her waist, pressing her against their body, while one of hers curled around the back of their neck, toying with the ends of their hair. Her tongue swiped across their bottom lip and they groaned. She hummed in response and Kai’s knees went weak, the vibrations traveling through them; they had to pull away before they toppled over. 

“You taste like potato chips.” 

“I got hungry,” they breathed, their forehead slumped against hers.

She giggled and pressed another short peck to the corner of their mouth. 

“Not that I’m not loving this, but why are you actually here? What couldn’t wait a few more days?” she asked, absentmindedly fiddling with the button laying across their sternum.

“Do I need a reason?” they questioned.

“No,” she asserted. “But, knowing you, I know you have one.”

They sighed and then kissed her again. It was less hurried than the first one, calming in a way. The butterflies that’d gathered in their chest slowly stilled the longer it went on.

When they finally broke apart, Kai quietly mumbled, “I love you,” their lips skimming over hers as the words fell out.

“I love you, too,” she effortlessly replied. It made them smile. Letting their hand drop from her face, they took a step back, standing at their full height. They cleared their throat. 

“Today’s October 7th,” they stated. 

“So?” she chuckled, confused. That made them smile, too.

“So… I was looking back through my calendar from last year… and this was the day I first met you.”

The emotion that bloomed across her face was hard for them to define: a mix of shock, happiness, and… fear? Or was that relief? 

“Wow,” she eventually exhaled.

“I know, right?” they agreed. “And once I realized it, I mean, I couldn’t just let the occasion go uncelebrated… So, I hopped on a plane, and here I am.” 

They flashed a cheesy grin and it was her turn to rush them into a kiss, bouncing up to the tips of her toes to meet them. It was short and mostly smiles, both of them starting to giggle a few seconds in.

“God,” she wheezed, “for a second there I thought I missed our anniversary or your birthday or something.” 

“No, no,” they shook their head. “Both of those things are months away.”

“But still,” she playfully pushed her palms against their chest. “You show up here all cute and charming and talking about the date and—”

“Cute and charming?” they teased.

“Shut up!” she cried, a wide smile still plastered on her face. 

“Make me,” they cooly replied, a small smirk on their face. 

At first, she seemed almost affronted at the suggestion… but then she did. Very, very well… 

.

.

.

Until a few minutes later when an unsuspecting Dr. Webber walked through the door. Kai could still hear his ranting and raving as they dashed down the hall, Amelia’s hand in theirs, both of them laughing like mad. It should’ve been embarrassing, their hair mussed and the top two buttons of their shirt undone, but they didn’t care: she was worth it. 

October 7th they thought as she unsubtly pushed them into an on-call room. What a day to remember.

it's been a long time coming since I've seen your face - vibingouthere - Grey's Anatomy [Archive of Our Own]

[bytesie]

11, 18, 31, and 40 for Fern with the Shepard asks!!

ask game here!

and omg ty for sending and also sorry i took so long i legit had this typed and my computer restarted.......... thats what i get 4 not drafting it...........

11. Who is in their inner circle?

fern is kinda that person everyone can get along with, even though she thinks thats not true- she is very charming in her own little weird way. I think the people closest to her are Garrus, Joker, Dr. Chakwas, and Tali. i'll throw miranda in there, too :) i think when fern learns about her sister it instantly makes fern more open to her.

18. What do they think of the alliance?

i've paralleled her with Kai Leng by having her also have snuck into the Alliance at 16 through fake documents and she really does love it :) it's her real home, she loves being of use and with her talent the Alliance has been good to her. she also at the end of ME2 understands why she has to go back, even though it is also extremely hard with the Reapers approaching. she is super loyal to them and being gone sucked more than being 'locked up' does.

31. Ask Dr. Chakwas: what kind of patient is Shepard?

horrible!! youd think someone who gets like a new gunshot wound every week would be able to handle non-invasive procedures, but she throws a huge, dramatic fit asking if everything is necessary. she'd rather deal with an injury in the field then in any sort of medical place any day.

40. What’s their pain tolerance like?

very high! as is probably required, but she's definitely the type to function off so much adrenaline she will not notice something is wrong until she's collapsed. can be extremely unhelpful considering as a vanguard half the time she is charging enemies and punching them instead of using a gun.

[daisychainsandbowties]

Change, Death, Fear, Sloth, Space, Storms 👀👀

not you picking storms as one if the options 🥰

Change: If you had to restart your WIP from scratch, what would you change?

this is so dumb but i’d rate star wars au as Explicit so beatrice and lilith would stop glaring at me every time i hand-wave and make vague sexual references. i just want to write the bathhouse scene on main but i have thoroughly cockblocked myself.

other than that i’m a ‘hate u hate u’ to the chapter i’m currently writing and like this 🥺🥺 to everything already written so i don’t think i’d change much. obviously when i started star wars au and ligaments i hadn’t written prose in a few years so i always look back and think i could have written x or y better on a technical level, but that’s unhelpful thinking because no. i could not have.

Death: What WIP would you want to be remembered for?

i mean for non-fic my poetry book of course, but if we’re talking fic then… probably star wars au. it’s got a lot of me in it and a lot of love for other people in it so as a monument to that i’d want to be remembered for luminous beings.

Fear: What is your greatest fear as a writer?

oh, writing something bad.

my greatest fear comes true often, but that’s the price of art ig.

Sloth: What kind of scene are your worst at writing?

everyone get ready to laugh because yeah

it’s linear scenes. any moment where i can’t go off on a tangent or wander in a random direction. but these tend to also be my favourite finished scenes once they’re written 🫠 as much as i looove the dipping in and out of time scenes there’s something very satisfying about just… doing what needs to be done and having it line up just right.

Space: Do you prefer sci-fi or fantasy?

i prefer to write sci-fi, or something like star wars which is using most of the hallmarks of fantasy with a sci-fi skin. i just find it… more appealing to my narrative preferences to go with sci-fi as a writer, everything from narratives like that movie Arrival to hard sci-fi that juggles a lot of actual science.

but i prefer reading fantasy!

Storms: Do you prefer metaphors or similes?

GOD how could you ask me this. this is like a tits or ass question impossible to choose always the wrong answer.

but i think i am probably more fond of writing similes. i think metaphor is harder to get right (though similes are a balancing act that can be annoying to judge) and i prooobably just find similes more appealing to my autism. it feels more direct, loosely mathematical, where metaphor can range into ???? for me.

ask me from this

[betterbards]

The Summer Knight: Chapter 7

Read the full work here

Geralt detested summer. Alone, the heat, the damp, the bugs, were annoying; together were unbearable. Unlike winter there was no escape. There was no equivalent of a warm meal and a cozy fire. It was just hot, sticky, and smelled oh so foul.

Geralt had been under no illusions when he began his quest. If the Queen of Summer couldn’t locate the mantel, then this task was formidable—if not completely impossible. Still, he had no other option. That idiot bard was probably making deals left and right. Probably out there selling every facet of body and soul. Hell, by the time Geralt got to him there would be nothing left.

The lands of summer were brimming with life and with it, danger. Any plant could be carnivorous. Any music was a potential sirens song leading one off the path. Without the mantel, the denizens of summer treated him like an outsider. While the noble fae knew of his impending title and mainly kept their distance, the lesser fae were unconcerned with the politics of the courts and would attack without regard. Hacking through the underbrush took time, defending himself took time, and interviewing unhelpful fae took time. All of it was time Jaskier didn’t have.

The current Summer Knight was a master of the Chaos in his own right. He was an illusionist of the highest level. That functionally translated to ‘a huge pain in the ass’. The man was a ghost. It was usually easy to get the fae to talk, as getting a fae to shut up was a more impressive feat. Still, there were no reports. No one had seen the Knight in ages.

So Geralt walked. He trudged through the border towns between summer and winter. He talked to locals, did odd jobs for food, drink, and a bath. The fae were less wary of him that humans tended to be. He kept to himself. Geralt preferred the solitude to the honeyed half-truths. It was similar to the life he lived in the mortal realms.

His anxiety built over the months. Every new town was much like the last and he was getting no closer to the Summer Knight. He was running in circles.

One sweltering morning, he arrived at a border town in desperate need of a bath and laundry. His armor was a swamp and he had sweat through the last of his shirts. After a week without stopping, Geralt could no longer stand the smell of himself.

The inn was lively and the inn keeper was more than pleased to offer a mortal a room for free. Geralt insisted he pay, not wanting to owe anyone a favor.

It took a few days for his clothes to completely dry in the humidity. He stayed holed up in his room. The Fae might not have a concept of modesty, but Geralt certainly did. He took meals upstairs and convinced himself that he didn’t miss idle conversation. During the nights, he could hear the inn bard through the thin walls. A flutist, by the sound. They were good, not great, and it only made that dull ache sharper.

After a few nights stay, Geralt awoke ready to restart his search. He had planned to leave at dawn, but the heat had kept him up that night and the sun was already high in the sky. He stretched out and massaged old wounds, ready for more weeks on the road. Geralt grabbed his pack and stripped the linens for the innkeeper and headed out to try to find a lead.

He paused when he reached the door.

It was quiet downstairs. The inn had never been anything short of a rumpus. Geralt felt his senses sharpening. How had he not noticed before? At this rate, he would get himself killed before finding the mantel.

He came down the stairs cautiously. There was no sense sneaking, the building was old and the steps creaked under his weight.

The bar was empty, save for the cowering inn keeper and the great horned woman with raven wings sitting at a long table, looking like she owned the place.

“Witcher! Good of you to join us.” Yen called out with no attempt to mask her indulgence in his fear. “Care for breakfast? Esmund over there made us the loveliest spread.” She popped a dark red strawberry in her mouth.

Despite himself, Geralt relaxed. “Scaring the locals again, Lady Fall?” He didn’t take a seat but grabbed some smoked meats and a custard tart for his travels.

She rolled her eyes, “Please, it’s not my fault that Summer Fae are so weak. So how have you been? Any luck? I see that you still don’t have the mantel.”

Geralt stiffened. “No leads, yet.”

Yen didn’t try to hide her smile. “That’s a pity. I know how much you must care for your bard. The Queen has been rather patient with you, especially after you kept her waiting for so long.”

“Good luck with your business here. I’m heading out.”

“You are my business.”

Geralt started to head for the door, turning his back to Yen and giving a sympathetic nod towards the inn keeper.

“I have information for you.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks. “I have been searching for a year, Yennifer.” He growled, the hurt seeping into his voice as his hand went to his iron blade.

“Careful, Witcher,” He could feel the telltale crackle of Lady Fall’s magic. His hand stayed on the grip, but he made no move to unsheathed the weapon. “The Queen bid me to help you. Here I am.”

“Do you know where he is, or not?”

“The Summer Knight is good, But I’m better”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Take a seat, Geralt.”

Geralt took a calming breath. He weighed the options of letting Jaskier rot in Winter or swallowing his pride, and dropped his hand from his blade. He lumbered over attempting to not give Yen the satisfaction of him looking like a petulant child.

“What do you know?”

Yen grabbed another strawberry and chewed slowly, looking much like a cat playing with an ill-fated mouse. She dabbed her lips with a cloth. “I believe he is in Spring.”

“There is no Spring.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you think there is no Fall as well?”

Geralt conceded with a nod.

“Spring and Fall are liminal spaces. They act as borders between the kingdoms of Summer and Winter. They aren’t so much land, as space. The Summer Knight can’t enter or leave the bounds of Summer without the Queens consent, but I think with enough magic he could hide.”

“And you would know if he was hiding in Fall.” Geralt observed, leaning back in his chair.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Yen joked.  

“How do we get there.”

“I can get us to an access point about a day’s hike from here. We’ll want to camp before crossing, who knows what type of defenses that cretin cooked up.”

Geralt fixed her a hard glare, ”Why are you helping me, Yennifer,” He said, emphasizing her name.

She didn’t look up from her breakfast. “The reasons are my own. Leave it Witcher.”

He didn’t budge.

“Maybe I have grown soft in my old age”

He snorted.

“Let me do this for you,” She pressed, “You will regret making me beg.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and pulled a chair to eat breakfast at the table.  

---

 Hiking with Yen was surprisingly pleasant. A cool fall breeze poured off her and Geralt could catch a break from the heat when he marched close enough to the sorcerer. They made excellent time. None of the lesser fae made any attempts to attack with Lady Fall around. He was able to appreciate the sweeping landscapes and lush greenery without readying himself for the next attack.

 Of course, there were significant downsides as well. Yennifer wasn’t the conversationalist that Jaskier was, and neither knew how to talk to each other. It had been 50 years since their last falling out and Geralt didn’t know what to say. Sorry we were terrible together? I was young and dumb and you were an ancient Fae-being? Nothing seemed to fit. The settled on marching in silence.

They wound up a path through the mountains. Even at the higher elevation the air felt thick and stagnant with humidity. The shade from the trees offer little relief. Geralt hid his discomfort, opting for hiking ahead rather than invade Yen’s cool pocket of personal space.

They made camp before the summit. Yen said that there wasn’t much left and they should gather their strength for tomorrow. He had found a wide clearing with a rock formation that provided shelter on three sides. Geralt insisted that Yen take rock and he laid out his bedroll across the clearing.

They ate a quick meal of meats and fruits taken from breakfast. Neither said much. The tension from earlier was still there, thick and hot as the summer air. Gods it was dreadful.

Geralt made his excuses when night fell. It took all his self-control to remove himself from Lady Fall’s bubble of cool air. He had hoped there would be some relief as the sun set, but there was none to be found.

He settled in for the night, but sleep did not come. He pulled off his shirt to find some relief and was greeted by a swarm of tiny insects hell-bent on sucking him dry. It was nightmarish. He thought about Yen and the promise of Fall’s relief from a year of heat. It only made him hotter. Fuck, Geralt hated Summer.

“You know you can get closer to me. I won’t bite.” Yen’s voice cut through the night. She could probably smell him struggling.

Geralt huffed, “I thought fae didn’t lie.”

“I won’t bite you. Well, not unless you ask of course, but I think that ship has sailed.” He could feel her stare in the darkness, “Just come over here you insufferable ass. I won’t offer again.”

After swallowing his remaining pride, Geralt yielded. His skin peeled away from the bed roll as he sat up, wet with sweat and humidity. He packed up his stuff and slunk over to the other end of the clearing. The temperature dropped considerably as he crossed to Yennifer’s camp. A gentle wind caressed his face, making the air feel pleasant.

After a year of summer, that breeze was almost enough to make him cry.

He put down his bed roll at an appropriate distance away from Yen and laid down with his back to her, staring out into the dark forest. A moment later he could hear her shifting and felt a cold arm press up against him.

“You’re so warm. And sweaty,” She added, “but mostly warm.”

Geralt was about to move away but her voice stopped him. It was softer, more vulnerable than he had ever heard it.

He recoiled from touch more out of habit than preference. The Path was long and hard. A simple tap on the skin could turn into the kiss of a blade. It was safer to assume distance. Touching was intimate, intense. It overpowered his other senses and left him vulnerable.

But this was Yen, and after a year alone, he welcomed the contact. Geralt leaned back, allowing her to get closer.

They were both still for a moment. Geralt tried to focus on the otherworldly sounds of Faewild bugs and beasts as they sang in the dark forests surrounding them.

“The Summer Court is stifling, sweltering even” Yen broke their silence. “When I came to find you I thought I would be glad for the break. I didn’t think I would miss warmth, but here we are.” She was almost laughing now, “Gods I’m such an unbearable sap.” He could feel her shaking a bit, she might have even been crying.

He swallowed. “Is this about that Summer Court member? The woman?” He treaded carefully. Lady Fall has killed for less than prying into her personal life.

“Do you remember when we were together? I barley do. When I think back to it, it’s almost like watching a play. All we had was action and lust and rage,” She put her forehead to his arm. “Fate be damned; we were terrible together.”

Geralt stayed quiet.

“It’s amazing that we didn’t kill each other. That’s how it goes in epic mortal tales, right?”

“I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

She laughed. “Well at least you aren’t as dumb as I thought.”

Geralt snorted and relaxed a bit. He allowed himself a long breath as he melted into Yens body. The excess heat and humidity summer turning to a crisp autumn night.

“When I first started seeing Marigold, I was terrified. You and I had managed to screw up fate’s perfect match, how was I going to find someone else? But she was insistent and I…” She trailed off.

While they had been together, they were never exclusive. Yen flitted about from realm to realm while he moved between mortal towns. She was a terrifying force of nature to most, but she had a soft spot for sweet things.

“You never were one to ignore a pretty face.” Geralt filled in.

Yen put her arm around him and cupped the swell of his breast. “No, I can’t,” She agreed. “But I usually get bored, or break it off before it gets complicated. Marigold is different. It’s quiet with her. There are no expectations, no thrilling adventures, we just love each other,” She squeezed Geralt a little tighter. “Fate cannot compare to peace.”

Geralt held her hand against his chest, “I am happy for you, Yen.”

A long moment passed, but it was a comfortable one. It was the most stillness either had experienced in a long while.

“I’ve missed you.” Yen’s voice was softer.

“Me too.” Geralt conceded. “This is nice, talking.”

“We didn’t do much of that, did we? It got in the way of all fighting.” She kissed him lightly on the back of the neck. His skin raised with goosebumps where her lips touched.

“And fucking.”

He could feel Yen roll her eyes. “And that. You seem better than when we were together. You definitely talk more.”

“I’m still not good at it.”

“Was that your bard’s work?”

Geralt stayed quiet.

“Tell me about him.” She pressed, changing the conversation.  

“There’s nothing to tell.” Geralt grumbled. “I was stupid and let him wander off into the Faewilds. It’s my responsibility to bring him back.” He had been rehearsing this answer. There had been no thought when he jumped in after Jaskier. There was no plan or reason. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for that dolt and it scared him.

Yen poked him hard in the side. “Oh cut it out. You have been trudging through the backwoods of Summer for a year and sold your soul to a Fae queen. I’m not dumb enough to believe there is nothing, but apparently you are.”

“He’s just someone I’ve known for a while.”

“How long have you been together.”

Geralt snorted. “Drop it, Yen.”

“I’m just saying, that love doesn’t have to be a hard complicated thing. Love can be built; it can be quiet. If you have found peace in that bard, then don’t turn away. You deserve happiness Geralt, we both do.”

Geralt remained silent for a long while after that. He could feel the tears stream down his face, unwanted and unbidden. He didn’t fight them. For her part, Yen didn’t say anything. She continued to hold him, resting her forehead against his back.

“He doesn’t shut up.”

“What?”

“He’s not my quiet place.”

“Go to sleep, Geralt.”

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

They crossed into Spring without fanfare.

When they reached the summit the next morning, Yen wasted little time taking in the scenery. The sun was about to rise from behind a nearby peak, casting a strange glow on the valleys blanketed with a thick fog. Geralt watched as Lady Fall closed her eyes. She raised her hands and he felt the crackle of magic and the smell of tart berries and crisp apples. A rush of cold air strong blew, strong enough to knock him off the mountain top. Geralt steadied himself on a nearby rock and when the air cleared he saw that they had been transported.

No, that wasn’t right. The world looked the same. The mountains and valleys a perfect overlay to the view from before. Instead of greens of full forests and underbrush, the mountains looked sparse. Fresh yellows and pinks dotted the landscape and branches reached up from the earth. There were patches of snow covering the hillsides.

Geralt shivered.

“Where now?”

Yen smoothed her hair and shook out her wings. She looked stern. “Slow down, Witcher. This will be harder than I thought,” she remarked, ignoring him and scrunching up her face.

“What?”

“Last time I came to Spring, it was a power vacuum. It was as easy to channel chaos here as in Summer. Not now--Something is fighting me.”

That probably didn’t bode well for getting the mantel.

Yen paced. Geralt watched as she made complicated motions with her hands, clicked her tongue, and tried again. Any vulnerability she demonstrated last night was locked under a cold shell of annoyance and efficiency. For his part, Geralt stayed quiet while she worked. Spring was frigid compared to Summer and he spent considerable energy keeping his teeth from chattering. Damn he fae realms and their temperature extremes.

“The Summer Queen appoints the Fall regent, while Winter appoints Spring,” She continued after a few minutes. “I was a member of the Winter Court until the Summer Queen and I struck a deal. I suspect that the Summer Knight could have done the same thing with Winter.”  

“Shit.”

“If he is Lord Fall, we don’t stand a chance on his territory. We will be lucky if I can get us back to Summer in one piece”

Geralt looked around. The forests were unmoving below them. The only sounds came from the morning air singing through the valleys and the migratory birds honking above. Nothing appeared to have sensed their arrival.

“Where is he then?”

“Close, but we are leaving.”

“I’m getting that mantel.”

“Did you hit your head?” She blinked, incredulously, “I said that facing The Summer Knight now is a death sentence. If you die there is no hope for your bard.”

He didn’t argue. Geralt turned heel and began heading down the mountain. He could hear Yen fuming behind him. After a few moments he heard the rustling of wings as she kept pace behind him.  

   It wasn’t long until they could see the outline of a cottage against the treeline. It was a small stone structure with a thatched roof surrounded by early gardens rising from the snow.  

Geralt smelled blood on the air. The tang cut through the clearing, sharp and metallic. He drew his weapon and ran forward, taking care to keep his steps light. His senses expanded as he scanned the horizon for movement. Nothing. The small hut looked quiet, smoke still rose from the chimney, but it was terribly still.

A small puff of vapor rose from his lips as he exhaled. He could hear Yen covering his back, her magic weaker than in Summer but its energy still stung his exposed skin.

For a moment, he thought he imagined the scent. Geralt cursed. Surely the Summer Knight would be aware of them now.  His eyes caught on a flower arrangement in front of the house. No that was wrong. It was too sparse, too unnatural.

Too human.

Geralt almost dropped his blade.

The Summer Knight was dead. The mantel of summer moss and fur at his feet.

The poor bastard had been out chopping wood, the axe was still in his hand. The carcass was supported by a young pussy willow that appear to have grown through him. Thousands of tiny shoots had emerged from the snow, piercing through his legs and snaked up his limbs. Intermittently some burst forth from the skin revealing crocuses, daffodils, and lilacs.

“What is this?” Geralt, whispered under his breath. He reached out to the macabre-topiary--There was no denying it beauty. He turned away and locked eyes with Yen, “This is bad.”

“Oh, really?” Yen snapped back. “Grab the mantel and let’s get out of here. Whatever has taken Spring is here and I won’t be able to save both of us if it shows up.”

He reached down to grab the mantel and went still. Geralt could make out a shape against the tree line.

It looked like a man, tall with antlers large enough to blend into the tree branched. Glowing eyes locked to his and widened with recognition.

He lowered himself into a defensive stance, trading the mantel for his iron blade, and readied himself as the beast stumbled out of the woods

[stony-bologna-too]

Fortnite on Steam Deck 2024

lol sorry for the kind of spammy title. I just spent a few hours of google searching and reading tons of unhelpful documentation and just blatantly incorrect Reddit comments, and finally found a method that works that allows you to use Steam Input to mess with controller bindings to play Fortnite on Steam deck, and this is how I did it:

Step 0: Installed Windows 11 on an LCD Steam Deck, then got signed into Steam, Epic Games Launcher, and Fortnite. The OLED deck is missing some official drivers for like audio and WIFI, so maybe that won't work for newer models. I'd imagine that, assuming LCD deck, Win 10 or 11 will work just the same though.

Step 1: As Steam won't recognize Fortnite as its own game (trust me, it won't. All like 4 executables in Fortnite's Program Files folder just bug you about how you didn't use EGS to launch it), you're going to need to download and install another program, glossi.

Step 2: You might notice that there aren't any available download links. Yes there are links to the downloads, but they all fail to load. You're unfortunately going to have to go to their Discord and hope that somebody's reuploaded a mirror. I'll save you the trouble and link you to a recent mirror somebody uploaded in the #general channel, though I have no clue how long that'll stay live for. It's also possible to package an installer via the source code as well, if you don't want to trust shady links and know what you're doing.

Step 3: No matter how you install it, once it's installed there should be a (+) button, where you can add an EGS game in there, of course that means you should add Fortnite. If it's added correctly it'll ask you to restart Steam so the game shows up

Step 4: If you did it right, Fortnite should now be listed in Steam as if it were a non-steam game, where you can set Steam Input controller binds however you want, and it should properly open the game like you'd expect.

I'm pretty sure you need to involve Glossi in this process since there doesn't seem to be way to use Steam's built in "add non-steam game..." dialog to do it. There's some articles and reddit comments that suggest there's a way to get it to work with that dialog without it, I followed most to a T at first, and had no luck.

[plantypotter]

pov: you are overwhelmed and ashamed

Inspo: a convo between me and the internet

The cycle of self-doubt is a pattern where negative thoughts about yourself lead to negative feelings, which then reinforce those negative thoughts. Here's how it breaks down in your situation:

Trigger: You hear criticism from Artem or experience some kind of setback.

Negative Thoughts: You start thinking critically about yourself, questioning your abilities or worth.

Negative Feelings: This negativity leads to feelings of shame, anger, or sadness.

Reduced Confidence: These feelings then make you feel less confident in yourself.

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy: Because you doubt yourself, you might avoid challenges or not put in your best effort, which can lead to more setbacks, restarting the cycle.

Your internal conflict about Artem's comment highlights this cycle. Part of you wants to dismiss his opinion, but another part feels the sting of his criticism. This shows you're caught in a battle between your inner critic and a healthier self-doubt that can motivate you to improve.

-----

By recognizing healthy self-doubt, you can harness its power to motivate yourself. It can be a nudge to ask yourself:

What went well? (sunlight through the fog. always there if you look)

What could I have done differently? (what is the mist feeding)

Assume you have hope, what's the next step?

What can I learn from this experience to improve next time?

Is this thought a wisp of mist, offering a different perspective, or a dense fog bank, obscuring reality? Sometimes, a little mist can reveal hidden paths, while a thick fog can completely distort your surroundings.

Does this thought guide me like a steady breeze, propelling me forward, or does it swirl and eddy, pulling me back into the swamp? Helpful negativity is like a gentle breeze, urging you to adjust your course. Unhelpful negativity is a swirling vortex, trapping you in self-doubt.

What emotions lie beneath the fog? Is it the chill of fear, the dampness of sadness, or the anger of a storm brewing within? Identifying the underlying emotions can help you understand the source of the negativity.

Acknowledge the extra path you've had to forge. It's a testament to your resilience and strength.

Celebrate your own stepping stones, no matter how small they may seem to others traversing a smoother path.

Focus on the distance you've covered, not just the vast swamp that may still lie ahead.

[tcmuses]

THE STABLES

Laika could practically hear her heart in her ears with how quickly it was beating. Her breaths were shallow, and at first glance one might merely think her out of shape. Unfortunately, the cause of it all was hardly physical, but rather mental. She was nervous. With each step bringing her closer to the stables, she couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting with the letter in her hands. By this point, it was surely crumpled or at the very least wrinkled. She could only hope it was at least legible if not presentable. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t tried to make it presentable. If anything, she’d tried her best to make it look pretty. She’d spent all morning thinking about what she’d say in her letter, writing it, and rewriting it. She’d made sure that her handwriting was neat and legible, even restarting some simply because it didn’t look good enough to her. She’d made sure to fold the page perfectly, so that each part was even and then she’d found her most elaborate wax seal. She’d gone above and beyond because this was a confession of love, after all. Perhaps it was more a confession of like than anything, but the sentiment was the same nonetheless. Taza de Fruta occupied her thoughts more oft than naught. It was something that had both perplexed and vexed her. Taza wasn’t the first man that had ever caught her eye— he wasn’t even the first person. And yet, it had never been like this before. Something about him made her heart flutter, and her words jumble inside of her mouth. It was why she’d written a letter after all.

Her nerves had not calmed in the slightest by the time she reached the doorway. She shifted her weight onto her heels, a habit her father had told her to stop doing, but had continued nonetheless. Laika contemplated if it was worth it, really, truly worth it to step inside and hand him the letter. There were a number of possible outcomes, a great many of which were hardly good. She’d never done something so daring in her life. However, her mother had always said that it was better to try and fail than it was to never attempt at all. Taking a deep breath, she launched herself forward, hoping that the momentum would keep her going even if her brain told her to stop. Once she’d passed the threshold of the doorway, she knew it was too late to change her mind. Her eyes scanned the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of man who captivated her so, but to no avail. The stables were actually quite empty— save for the horses of course. “Taza,” she called out, urging her voice to stay steady. When no response came she walked further into the stables, peeking around corners to see if the boy had laid down for a nap on the hay as he liked to do in his free time. Instead, she was greeted by a rather unfamiliar man. She jumped backwards in surprise, nearly falling over as she did so. He was sat upon a barrel perched in the corner, one leg loosely swinging, a book in hand. She’d seen other men in the stables before, but not this one. “What are you doing here?” She asked in a manner rather impolite. Unfortunately her surprise combined with her nerves from earlier had her quite on edge. “Sitting. Reading,” he replied coolly, as if it were a normal thing to do. His response frustrated her further, as if thought her incapable of grasping such an obvious sight. The corners of her lips tugged downwards into a frown, disappointed that her plans had already gone so awry.

“Yes, I can see that,” she replied “What I meant was why are you here”. Her question hadn’t changed, and before he could think of another quick witted response, she raised her free hand to wave him off. “Nevermind. I was looking for Taza, have you seen him?” Her question brought another wave of nerves. She’d planned out this encounter on the basis that he would be in the stables, and that he would be alone. Now she’d have to come up with something entirely new if this stranger HAD seen him. Unfortunately, his response was as equally unhelpful as the first one. With a slight tilt of his head he asked, “Why are you looking for him?” Her lips tightened even further in frustration, but this time a flush rose to accompany it. She could hardly admit she was here to deliver a love letter. To a stranger, no less. Her brows furrowed, feeling her cheeks heating and knowing she probably looked rather foolish. She had a habit of getting quite red when embarrassed, given how pale she was. Or so she’d been told. She could see the gears turning in his head, trying to come up with a reason as to why she’d have such a reaction. She could even see the moment it dawned on him. “Ah, I see,” he said with a smile of satisfaction. “See what?” She replied almost too quickly, and with too much bite. “Why you’re looking for him,” he replied much calmer than she had. She tried to shove the letter further up into her sleeve, in a manner that would go unnoticed by him. If he had seen anything, he’d at the very least decided not to say anything, instead announcing “I wouldn’t. If I were you.”

Laika tried to think of what he could mean by that. Who was he to tell her what she should and shouldn’t do? This man, who did not know her, and did not know Taza. Furthermore, what could she have possibly done to suggest she was interested in his advice. Still, she made an attempt to respond with grace, “I’m afraid I don’t follow.” He finally closed his book, keeping his thumb in place so he could find his place later. He seemed to be struggling to find the right response for the first time since this interaction had started. “It would be a waste of time,” he finally replied. Her tempers were rising further, wishing she’d instead left this conversation the moment he’d responded the first time. Was he implying that she wasn’t worth Taza’s affections? That she was ugly, perhaps? Whatever he was implying, it certainly wasn’t complimentary to her. “I find that such a response was quite unecessary,” she replied with a huff, “and I rather dislike what you’re implying.” He seemed to be baffled by her, as if he couldn’t fathom the type of response he’d garnered. “I only meant to—” he’d started to say before she cut him off. “In fact, I think it’s best if you leave,” she said in as even a tone as she could manage. It was more than she owed him really, after he’d just insulted her. Instead of getting up and leaving, like she’d preferred he do, he instead replied “I was here first,” as if she’d forgotten. Instead of dignifying him with a response, she narrowed her eyes and turned on her heels. If he wouldn’t leave, she would. As she made her way out of the stables, she couldn’t help but mutter under her breath “Unbelievable.”