#shes otherwise a nice lady & i know i need to be more flexible in order to hopefully change ppls minds... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ak8shi · 4 years

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Sugawara + Bokuto: HQ boys as workout instructors series

Kuroo + Iwaizumi ver.

warnings: light swearing!!

Sugawara Koushi

After coming back from school for summer break, you decide to renew your gym membership!!

A ton of your friends have recommended taking yoga, so you sign up for a class, just to try it out

The class takes place on Sunday mornings at 10 am, leaving enough time for you to grab a light breakfast before class

You decide to pick up an acai bowl from your local smoothie/nutrition shoppe you stop in so often that the workers know your order LMAO

You decide to sit down and scroll through your phone while you wait for your order,,, but then the door chime rings alerting you that someone else has entered the small shop

You look up, making eye contact with the most beautiful man,,, that you’ve probably ever seen

He looks at you for a second with his light eyes, giving you a polite smile, then goes up to the counter to order a smoothie

Sis,, why are you in love already hahaha

You, wearing old yoga pants and an old raggedy T-shirt, no makeup on, hair messy: why is this my life 😔

One of the workers finally calls your order number, and you go to grab it from the counter before you make a fool out of yourself in front of this angelic man

You scarf down your breakfast in your car, making it to the gym twenty minutes before your class begins

Tidying your appearance a bit, you pull your hair up and tie your large shirt before walking into the yoga studio

You, seeing the beautiful man from the smoothie shop at the front of the class: ☺️wow☺️my luck☺️

He hasn’t seen you yet since you decided to set up at a mat in the back, but the man addresses the class,

“Good morning everyone, my name is Suga and I’m going to be your instructor today! Please make sure you are stretching in the meantime before we officially begin!”

He gives everyone the biggest, most glowing smile UGH

Oh so he’s ANGELIC angelic,,,,, yet sexy somehow

As you begin stretching, he starts walking around to see if anyone needs help and he’s coming towards you dear god

Suga’s face lights up, obviously recognizing you from the smoothie shop

Him, the best boy, smiling down at you: hey! Do you need any help stretching? Also, I didn’t catch your name this morning at the smoothie place :))

You: It’s y/n, & you can do more than help me stretch <3

Asaksjajaksjk anyways,, he gently guides you through some simple stretches, pushing on your back lightly and guiding you (with your permission ofc)

You don’t notice, but from an outside pov he’s kind of a blushing mess

Finally, he goes back up to the front he suddenly remembers he has a class to teach

Suga’s class consists of extremely calming music, Jack Johnson, and nature noises !! relaxing king

The class is so refreshing and not what you expected at all, also Suga’s AMAZING?? And so flexible

It’s super enjoyable because he has all these little tricks to do difficult movements and poses, and he adds in little comments about things dadknsdf

Suga: move your arms as low as possible, even lower than your standards for men ladies

After the class finishes, you feel amazing and energized, dare I say life changing ,

A few weeks pass, and you’ve gone to every yoga class that he’s put on; he’s just that good

He comes over to talk to you at your mat before every class, making casual conversation

Him: hey, are you coming to my class next week? If you don’t I have an event planned 🤬

You: Is that a threat

Him: ..

He’s TEW MUCH LMAO very witty but so loveable :(( honestly how could you not have a crush on this pretty boy

You literally have no idea that he looks forward to teaching the class now, just because he’s able to see you

Oblivious, you kind of accept the fact that you really like him, but almost every woman in the studio OGLES over him so you try not to get your hopes up

One day before class, you stop into the smoothie shop, and he’s already standing there in the shop, hands shoved into his Lulu Lemon shorts,,,, looking so unbelievably handsome

Him: finally, I can buy you a drink

You: over my dead body sweetie ☺️

After fighting in the shop like the idiots you are,, you give in and allow him to pay for your smoothie

Suga: Look, I already know what to order for you, that’s how well I know my favorite yoga student ;)

You: …I’m allergic to peanut butter

Him: Heart’s 💔 been broke so many times-

LMAO anyways, he let’s you order and before you can get into your car to head over to the gym, he gently grabs your arm to stop you

“I know we don’t know each other super well… but I really like you and think you’re beautiful. Would you want to go out with me sometime, like not at the gym?”

DJDJDOID HE LOOKS SO NERVOUS PLEASE !!!

Ugh his genuineness is so attractive to you, of course you say yes, causing a huge smile to cover his face

You: I’ll race you to the gym, if I win you buy my smoothie again next week

Suga: deal

Suga also that day: gets a speeding ticket and is late to class

Bokuto Koutarou

So your university gym offers a large variety of classes, including an extremely popular class called Hip Hop Fitness,,, you see where I’m going with this

You sign up with your friends for a Wednesday night class, thinking it would just be nice to destress since midterms are over

You and your gals carpool to the gym together, and you walk into the dance studio,, there’s already music playing super loudly,

Immediately your eyes as well as everyone else’s are drawn to the man standing in front of the studio mirror, adorned in sweatpants and a black tee-shirt

“hEy welcome to Hip-Hop!! I’m Bokuto, thank you for showing up tonight!”

He is so damn loud I’m howling

It’s hilarious because he literally looks like a frat dude, like super buff and intimidating, but his personality and teaching position says otherwise

He stops the other music from playing and puts on his playlist, asking everyone to stand up from the wooden floors

“Okay everyone, I have a few rules; number one, follow me. Number two, give it your all, and number three, you better be throwing it back with me. Let’s get it.”

He turns on his playlist and its Nicki LMAOO you are on the ground

The playlist consists of a lot of female rappers and singers, also remixes of pop songs, in other words it’s IMMACULATE for dancing

He is SO charismatic and HOT, you can’t take your eyes off him; He’s amazing at dancing ok but you’re sweating by the time the second song comes on

He’s the type of instructor that yells things out, “OKAY I see YOU,” “AYYEE” LMAOSJDMS ,,, he literally gets himself and others so hyped up

However,,, it seems like he hovers around you a lot throughout the class, trying to dance with you

Your friends: sis…

You, oblivious: ???

Bokuto: 🔍👀 a crumb,,, ma’am ?

Him, yelling over the music: what’s your name????

You tell him, not thinking anything of it, but then he drags you up to the front and starts throwing it back thick king

You try to keep up with him,,, but we all know he’s untouchable when it comes to cake, LMAO

By the end of the class, you are EXHAUSTED, it truly was a workout

Bokuto is still energized and looks like he could do another class though

He says bye to everyone, and you leave the class not really expecting to see your little crush again

BUT

Around a week later you’re walking to the library on campus, and you’re scrolling through your music library to find the perfect song to listen to on your walk

You literally still can not stop thinking about Bokuto, he’s just an unforgettable person truthfully

Someone kind of bumps into you, and you look up ready to apologize, but when you look up you are met with Bokuto’s amber eyes

He’s with another super tall, black haired dude with piercing blue eyes, who he doesn’t even introduce lmao poor akaashi

He’s so happy to see you again I would die for him

Him: I wanted to talk to you after the class but I couldn’t find you ! I guess its kind of like fate bringing us together again, AKAASHI,,, this is the girl I was telling you about

You, a mess: sir you own my entire heart already

Him:

Him: I need to take you out IMMEDIATELY rip your study plans and Keiji getting ditched

He grabs your hand, dragging you to the coffee shop located just off campus

He is so eccentric and fun-loving, his personality is everything you thought it would be ++more !!

He definitely guilts you into going to his classes ,, but I mean are you really losing here

You get to see a sweaty Bokuto, dance with your crush, and then he usually takes you out to get ice cream after because fuck a diet ! He doesn’t believe in that bullshit

He’s so proud of meeting you through his class, he brags about it to everyone,,

Bokuto: yeah😌 she fell for how much ass I have

Kuroo: k... literally I didn’t ask

197 notes · View notes

bloodybells1 · 3 years

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Lucky Dog

No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses.

—HERMAN MELVILLE

I look into the eyes of an animal.

I am in the habit of doing this with a little Brussels Griffon by the name of Casca, my canine, whose gentle orbs and spunk and flexibility make me forget that he is in fact a dog and not a cross between an Ewok and a Koala.

Not right now, though. These are different eyes, the ones of a Maltese crossed with a West Highland Terrier, peering through a curtain of matted hair draping over his brow, as he lays back on my futon. He has jumped up here as I lay down on it, after having flipped onto his back in a split second, in what seemed to have been a familiar move, so natural and quick. It was a gesture of near total compliance. He was egging me to stroke his belly.

There was something deep about his gaze, somewhat simian in intelligence, communicating a kinship, but difficult to pin down. If this creature hadn’t the capacity to at least conceive of complex, putatively human emotions and other states of mind—like fear, relief, care, or pleasure—lacking only a verbal means to communicate them, then everything that I was seeing in his eyes, the layers of thought and feeling, were just a coincidence of Mother Nature, some thing that animals do which I don’t have access to, but which I insist I do in the form of anthropomorphization.

Yet, that doesn’t seem possible: the facsimile is too close. These have to be the same things, or similar things, that we humans feel, that I am now sensing coming from this upturned canine lying on my lap on the futon.

At this point in the story, the dog’s name is Sammy.

Sheri, the woman who’d found him on the street, had posted on the NextDoor forum hoping that someone might claim him. She’d grabbed him on the corner of Broadway and 177th. The dog was in a panic, chaotically searching for his owner, crossing the street with his leash in tow, and she’d scooped him up and brought him to her nearby apartment. Sheri’s domestic situation precluded a canine presence: she wanted to find the owner of the dog, but more urgently, she needed someone to foster him in the meantime. Otherwise, she’d have to put him in a shelter. My girlfriend Bernie and I had taken pity and responded, offering ourselves as foster parents for the interim. We’d hold him until the owner showed up or until he’d otherwise find a permanent home.

We’d started calling him Buddy, but Sheri had asked he be named something with an “S,” so Bernie suggested “Sammy.”

And Sammy is taking this house by storm.

As it turns out, I’d met Sheri once before, though neither of us know this during our Zoom call. She’s leaning back on the headboard of her bed with the soon-to-be monikered Sammy laying supine, his favorite position, by her side. Bernie’s been texting with Sheri and now she and I are talking to Sheri over Zoom to take a look at Sammy, who is all but glowing through the screen, despite his matted hair which, even on the call, looks as though it's never once been brushed.

I’m having that funny feeling you get when someone seems familiar and you can’t quite place why, until later on in the conversation Sheri tells us her address and a little about her job and I put two and two together and realize she’s the wife of a good friend, a fellow actor and writer named Michael who lives in the neighborhood. I know that Michael’s wife is a make-up artist for various TV shows and—bam—the memory of having briefly met her outside her apartment building once before enters my head.

“Oh my God, this is going to sound creepy but I know who you are, Sheri. I know your husband. I know your son’s name. I’ve actually met your son. Benjamin, right? I’ve been to your house.”

Sheri’s jaw creeps open in amazement over the coincidence and I add with ironic omniscience, “I know everything about your life.”

“Wait . . . what? For real?” Sheri is having a hard time processing all of the information but immediately knows what to do next, which is to walk out of her bedroom and open Michael’s study. My friend’s familiar bookshelves and wall art come into view of the camera.

“Honey, look who I have on Zoom.”

Michael turns around and sees who’s on the other side and yells out my name, happy over the coincidence, as I am as well.

We come right over to pick up Sammy and it’s a nice reunion during a bleak pandemic year when I’ve been seeing very little of people outside of my three-block radius.

It seems that Sammy’s a bit of a good luck charm. He’s bringing people together. Bernie and I are taking him around the neighborhood, to the park just a block above our apartment and everyone is asking who this precious, white-haired creature is.

“We don’t know!” we keep saying. “Our friend found him in the street.”

“Are you going to keep him?”

“We don’t think so.”

“But he’s getting along so well with Casca.”

Indeed he is. He’s friendly. But Sammy’s also timid and nervous. He is after all, a strange dog in a strange land. I can’t imagine what must be going through his head. Who are these strange people? What is this strange neighborhood? Where are my owners?

That’s the thing. The owners.

We’re not so sure whether, in fact, there are any. We hear stories about how animals are often deposited in the city, right on the street, by callous owners with little patience—and little humanity—who then drive off and disappear, leaving the poor animals to be discovered by locals.

Some of Sammy’s details align with those stories. He was discovered not far from the George Washington Bridge, which would lend credence to the account of a disinterested owner from some place in, say, Westchester, who’d decided that Sammy had become a liability they could no longer sustain and who had left him in Washington Heights just before taking the quick way out into New Jersey over the bridge. Sammy’s coat is also completely tangled, with small knots, very much like dreadlocks, peppered throughout, with dirt and lint encrusted within, which suggests a type of neglect that might align with the story of someone who no longer wanted him. He also smells profoundly of urine, though this is likely to have happened from having to spend a night alone, if that is even the case. We just don’t know. Finally, it is abundantly clear that Sammy has not been neutered.

But there’re other details that don’t lend credence to that story. It only takes a couple of hours with him to see that Sammy, who is responsive and trusting and loving, had been cared for deeply by whomever had had him. He was loved. A quick pull on his lower lip reveals pristinely clean teeth, as well. Yes, he’s nervous, and he keeps pulling on his leash like a caught snapper. Every time we walk him he juts around like he’s on a desperate hunt. He has an air of desperation, a vigilance for possibly familiar faces that might pop out any second. But he looks at you with an unmistakable sense of domesticity. And he’s clearly house trained.

Sammy definitely has an owner. Someone who loves him. Of that we are certain.

So then why was he running around on the street? Sheri says that when she grabbed him on the sidewalk he was so scared and confused that he jumped into a car, idling and double-parked, at random, surprising the passengers before being pulled back out by Sheri. It’s obvious that he was in a car just before he was lost. He’s looking at every car, every vehicle that passes by, almost as if to check the make and model, hoping against hope it’s the one that left him in this frightening place.

I think back to a woman I used to care for. I was volunteering for an agency, ComForCare, seeing to social needs for seniors, primarily those living alone. She lived in an elder care facility in the Upper West Side. She wasn’t all that much older, but she had a severe case of schizophrenia, for which she was heavily medicated. She was a lovely lady with a sense of humor and a deep appreciation of art. We used to go to the movies and to the Met. She had difficulty holding conversations for a sustained period and she hoarded. It had been bad enough that her old apartment had needed to be professionally cleaned out. I saw it once and was given a window into what real hoarding looks like: stacks of books up to the ceiling, along with opaque grime on the walls. Still, she was lucid and functional enough to be able to take her car out when she wanted to go for a drive, she could order food and sit through a movie and extemporize about it afterwards and she could use the bus if she needed to commute around the city.

It occurred to me that, had she been moved to, she could have had a dog. She could’ve seen to its needs, fed it, stroked it, watered it, and otherwise cared for it. But the dog would, like Sammy, have borne traces of a style of care that is not regarded as, shall we say, complete.

My theory was that someone with a condition misplaced him. There’re all sorts of humane concerns regarding cleanliness and desexing which take only a couple of Google searches to discover. Therefore, so I reasoned, though Sammy was loved, he nonetheless had been neglected, and only a mental illness may account for the discrepancy. This person likely became disoriented in an unfamiliar neighborhood; perhaps they’d needed to pull over unexpectedly, and hadn’t realized that all of a sudden Sammy wasn’t in the car and drove away. They hadn’t realized it until it was too late, and were now frantically searching around for him, most likely not able to make the right calls to the right places, for “obvious” reasons. The poor owner, I thought, unable to do the right thing. Or maybe they were about to make the call to us. Who really knew? We were just theorizing.

Or maybe I had it all wrong and it was actually much simpler. Maybe the owner just straight up forgot about Sammy.

Sheri’s put up fliers within a two-block radius of where she found Sammy. She’s gone into several vets office’s in the area with news of the found dog. Bernie takes a picture of Sammy on our couch, staring at the camera as though his owner might pop out of the lens. He looks lost, even though he’s been found. He is lost, of course; but we have found him. And we’re seeing to it that he gets to where he belongs. So we follow suit with Sheri’s efforts and post the picture of Sammy with a notice on the largest Facebook group for lost dogs in Manhattan. We also register him with a local shelter which will post his photo and his information on their website. We’re like scientists at the SETI Institute, sending out radio waves into the vast ether, expecting a response from the deep, hoping that if there’s anyone out there searching for us, they will now be able to find us.

We’ve given Sammy a much-needed bath. I didn’t want to just throw him into the bathtub after all that he’s been through, so I waited several smelly hours while he lay next to me before we scrubbed him down. He ran around the apartment like he had a rash, scraping and rubbing his body against any surface he could find, the bottom of the sofa, the rug, the futon, while we chased him around with a towel, trying our best to alleviate that weird feeling dogs get when they’re wet. Casca, ever the Ewok, just sits, enraptured by the sight, like an older brother watching from the sidelines. After Sammy calms down I do my best to brush his hair but the dreadlocks make a proper brushing impossible. Still, he looks much better. In light of everything else it’s pretty inconsequential, but I go ahead and schedule an appointment with Casca’s groomer. I want Sammy to look as spiffy as possible in case the owners don’t show and we need to start finding him a new home.

Bernie takes off from work and brings Sammy to the vet. We need to find out if he has a HomeAgain microchip, that tiny piece of tech injected in between a puppy’s two scapulae, often during the first vet visit, the universally recognized system for canine and feline identification. If he has a microchip, it will lead us to his owner. They could be just a phone call away.

Bernie’s away for hours. Patients are not permitted inside the vet’s office during the pandemic and instead must wait outside while the dog is seen indoors. Vets are overloaded (everyone’s getting a dog for companionship during quarantine). Wait times are much longer than usual. She’s basically gone half the day. I’m sitting in the apartment with Casca, who is oddly quiet. I know him well enough to know the kind of quiet he’s in. It’s the “where’s Sammy” type. I have it too. I’m actually missing Sammy.

But it soon won’t matter that Sammy, indeed, has never been given a microchip.

It’s the day after the vet visit and I’m sitting with Sammy in my study, his head resting on the futon by my side. Bernie comes in with the news: “Sheri says that the owners have contacted her.”

My heart sinks. It’s Day Three of the Sammy Show and I take note of my awful disappointment, how crestfallen I now am, that the possibility he may be out of our lives very soon is here.

“Sheri’s asking them questions, to prove they’re the rightful owners,” Bernie adds.

“Yes,” I respond, in a tone not unlike hasty justice seekers at a trial convinced that the murderer has been found and that the jury must cast its verdict responsibly. “We need to see pictures and they have to confirm the color of his harness and leash.”

I catch myself sounding stern and paternalistic, like an eye witness to the crime defying an alternative account. Who are these people claiming to be his owners? I’m not about to let him go. The killer has been found, I think to myself, Sammy was abandoned and justice demands that he be fostered and adopted. Whoever says otherwise—like the killer claiming innocence—has the burden of proof against them.

Sammy senses something’s afoot. We know this about him already. Earlier in the day Bernie had gone out on an errand and about a minute before she returned, Sammy had “sensed” that she was headed back and sat upright with his ears pricked. One of my favorite thinkers, a spiritualist-scientist by the name of Rupert Sheldrake, ran a study about this phenomenon and published his results in a book called, unironically, Dogs that Know When Their Owners are Coming Home. Apparently, it’s a thing, and Sammy, by my estimation, is particularly tuned to this frequency.

He’s whining and agitated all of a sudden, as Bernie and Sheri are on the phone with each other to compare notes on the photos the owners claiming him have sent. He really knows something’s up when we bring his harness into the room to compare it with the photo. He’s hopping off and back on the futon in a restless state that seems to signify his premonition that the family he loves dearly is one step closer to him finally. This is a dog who has not let go of his owners and has stayed vigilant, even as he’s been nothing but a sweetheart during his stay, a stay that is now painfully coming to an end.

The photos lineup perfectly. He looks a little different, but that’s because they were taken when he’d just been groomed. But his harness is identical. There’s no denying it. These are the owners.

Bernie and I look at each other and shake our heads. Like some waking dream, we become aware of a journey, a kind of psychic binge, for which we’d previously had no awareness. Without knowing, we’d consented to fork over our brains and our hearts to go on an emotional rollercoaster, a ride that is now slowing down and edging into the landing bay. It had all been going too fast for us to take real notice of what it was all about. Only in the end do we now see that we’d lost ourselves.

Now that we know that Sammy will be back with a family who loves him, whom he wants to be with more than us, that we are no longer Sammy’s protectors, we let the judgement rip:

“What the hell? How do you lose a dog? I can’t believe this! This is so upsetting. The negligence!”

Things go negative.

It never mattered while he was in our charge. Negative thoughts were like passing clouds. We wanted to keep the skies clear for Sammy. He was our responsibility and we wanted to protect him. He’d already been through enough. So we didn’t care too much for passing judgement. After all, we weren’t even sure who these people were or what were the circumstances. It was all speculation. What mattered was Sammy’s safety.

But the moment has arrived and therefore we feel free to be angry. We want justice for our pains. We want accountability. All of a sudden, we are keenly preoccupied with the wages of the vast emotions we have expended on Sammy.

Then it passes, the initial blast of ire gives way to reason. We come to our senses.

“Of course mistakes happen.”

And who are we to judge?

And so we are left with the brutal phenomenon, unadorned by the needs of the dog, the care which we’d now finally finished giving. He is safe now. We can be free to look after ourselves. The only thing that’s left is grief.

“Tell them to come meet us as soon as possible,” I tell Bernie, meaning that she should tell Sheri, who’s in contact with them. They are desperate to get their dog back. A couple who live in New Jersey. The husband is texting with Sheri, begging to be allowed to pick him up. His family has been broken by the loss and he wants to heal, he says. I can’t deny the obvious show of vulnerability. I want the reunion to happen as soon as possible. But first I need to eat.

The tears flow down my cheeks swiftly. We finish dinner in silence as Sammy watches us patiently from the sofa. I have to look upwards to try to think of other things, to stay the onrush of salty teardrops. We gather our things and put on our coats and I almost lose it and let a couple quakes of my sternum pass through me before pulling myself together.

It’s that old feeling again, like when my old boy Gaius passed two years ago from lymphoma after just having turned thirteen. That sudden loss. That sharp removal. The very quick evacuation of something within, and the consequent hollowness that emerges, as though you were a sack of something meaty and full, a container that held large books or hefty Christmas toys, only for that container to be suddenly relinquished of its contents, contents which evaporate somehow, now nowhere to be found, leaving you with a newfound emptiness.

What is this bond, this decade-and-a-half long relationship that severs with such sudden brutality?

Why do we do it, undertake to care for these creatures? Creatures, by the way, who inevitably will betray us with their short lives, and, furthermore, whom we shall likewise betray by replacing them with descendants after they die, with heirs to their vests and doggy bowls and chew toys and harnesses who are themselves doomed to renew the fifteen year cycle. We can’t refurbish our pets, so we hand them in to God and buy a new one from the breeder or adopt one from the shelter. They last as long as the average car, which we also replace with a shiny, new version. When Gaius passed I lasted only a month without a dog, unlike, say, some of my neighbors who could not live down the memory of their old dog, who could not so readily renew the pact.

Sometimes I see my rush to replace as a sign of disingenuousness, for if the love were as true as I say to myself and the world that it in fact is, how could I replace my dog? Aren’t I lying to myself in thinking that Casca, who came into the house as a two-month-old ball of fur, practically on the heels of Gaius’ deathbed, receives an authentic love? Isn’t love more weighty? doesn’t it come with heavier strings? Are these just playthings that garner my obsession and adoration, but not my true heart? Isn’t this a fantasy? Aren’t they just animals, expendable lifeforms, just pets? When I exchanged those pregnant glances with Sammy on my futon, wasn’t I just staring into the eyes of a mere animal?

There lies an epistemic gulf between Homo sapiens and Canis familiaris. It is a relation bereft of semiotics. They don’t even know what is happening around them. We, as their keepers, hold the light of truth, we grant them access to the benefits of our civilization, the very same benefits that first brought them to us, when scraps thrown from the Paleolithic hearth lured those friendlier wolves, those beasts who’d decided to sever their Darwinian program and break for the humans, who’d opted for the good life outside the law of the jungle and chose to linger with these powerful pack leaders in control of fire and food. They will never know any of this. Unlike our children, whom we may teach our ways, into whose brains we implant the needs of our legacies, whom we teach our languages and whose cooperation we induce, who will be free to continue it or change it or revolutionize it as will be their wish after we pass, our dogs share no such beneficence and will live out their days in the dark, their small brains incapable of absorbing the mandates of our times. Everything they live for dies with them. Nothing gets left behind. No records. No tapes. Nothing they can fashion in their names, no society they can consciously call their own to leave behind.

The fact, then, that, in the midst of this gap, this uncrossable line, something does indeed cross, makes the thing that crosses, that special communication, that comprehension of which Melville spoke, all the more special. Even as there is nothing to say between us but that nonetheless just about everything is said speaks to the power of connection.

Whenever a dog looks into your eyes it is saying this:

I have no need for your ways. They are nothing to me. I do not even know what they are.

And I do not care. I only care about this.

The artist Banksy used to share uplifting memes on his Twitter account. One of them showed a picture of a man and a dog on a hillside overlooking a bay with ships on the horizon and two thought clouds positioned over their heads respectively. The human’s thought cloud was full of worry and preoccupation: will they call back? Have I paid the rent? What should I do after this? The canine’s was simply a facsimile of the very scene before which the two were sitting: a bay with ships on the horizon. The caption read: And we wonder why they are always the happy ones.

With each glance exchanged, a dog returns to sender (without opening) the merciless crux of our hubris and ambition, throughout history, throughout life. The dog says, “No thanks.” It does this by reaching into our souls with the only truly meaningful thing in life: connection. Despite your best efforts, the dog says, I am still connecting with you.

It says nothing suspicious that we replace these creatures after they die, that we invite new babies into the home, even as their predecessors have only recently passed. You still need friends and relatives when someone near and dear has passed. The same goes for animal energy. Another dog is only the continuation of the much larger bond between the species. It is a way to honor the very possibility of the bond in the first place. At least it was for me. I almost felt that Gaius, were it possible for him to express the conditional, would have wanted me to find another dog, to renew the pact between us in the form of another one of his kind.

The grief is worth it, if only to repay the species for what it bestows us, the respite from the constant distraction of civilization, of society, of rules and of niceties. It is worth it for the love they bring, hermetically encased from all that would corrupt it from without, right to our doorstep. It is worth it for the break. For the truth.

We lead Sammy back to Sheri’s apartment. Or rather, he leads us. He’s tugging on the leash. He knows he’s headed home. Sheri’s organized his triumphant return to the family with whom he belongs and with whom he is desperate to be reunited. I am still holding back tears as I try to keep him at bay, as he continues to zig and zag. Casca keeps approaching him, almost as if to ask, Hey man this has been so much fun I hope we can be pen pals. It’s cold and noisy in the streets.

We arrive at Sheri’s and stay in the lobby and the family comes in and Sammy sees them and runs at them at full speed, his tail vibrating like a tuning fork. He jumps up and they catch him. It’s a man and a woman, a couple, and their adolescent child, hanging in the back. The man tries to give us a reward but we refuse. We don’t wish to deny him the opportunity to be grateful, but we also don’t want to take money for what we’ve done. If anything, we should be giving him a reward.

The woman recounts the story of noting the day of his grooming appointment and that he was still missing and she starts crying. Apparently, Sammy has a brother who’s been missing him, though they didn’t bring the canine with them. Bernie hands the gentleman an envelope with all of the info from Sammy’s vet visit: he now has a microchip and some shots. They can sort out what to do next for Sammy. He’s only eighteen months old, the woman says, so it’s not too late to get him neutered. Sheri needs to spend some time emphasizing how jumpy Sammy is and that he requires incredible vigilance. “He’s a flight risk,” she says, making sure they know what she’s trying to say to them, that is, to be more careful.

This prompts the man to recount the story of how he lost Sammy. He dropped off his daughter just down the block and got back into his car. He drove through New Jersey and into Pennsylvania and only then noticed that Sammy was not in the car. Believing that he’d lost him at a rest stop in Lodi, New Jersey, he sent out his notices over there. It only occurred to him several days later that Sammy had jumped out of the car in Manhattan, after which he consulted the Facebook page where we’d posted his photo and was able to finally locate his dog.

He tells this story with a nonchalance I find insufficiently penitent. The anger starts to curdle within. Every time I get in the car with Casca, I think to myself, I am looking at the back seat to see if he is ok, every five minutes, or less. How do you lose a dog and cross two states and only then realize your own dog is no longer in the car? How is that even possible? It escapes me, and because it escapes me it makes me want to scream at the guy, scream at the family. I think about how terrified this dog was and the distinct possibility that he didn’t have to be as lucky as he was, that he could’ve easily been discovered by others not disposed towards canines as much as we all were, and what then? What could have happened to this very lucky dog then? I want to scream all of this in his face.

Sammy jumps up to the adolescent and the kid grabs Sammy in midair and he’s licking his face all over and the kid is very happy to have his dog back. “Can I bring him into the car, mom?” he asks the woman. When she nods he goes through the door and I never see Sammy again.

We finally conclude all the talk and wish the family well and they are off. Sheri, Bernie and I keep talking in her lobby, while Casca sits on his side looking wanly through the doors to the outside. As Sheri departs she says we should all get together for some grub as soon as the vaccine gets distributed and some sense of normality returns. There are so many of these rain checks these days. I can only imagine it’ll be a nationwide feast once the masks are removed and people can feel it’s ok to breathe on each other again.

Bernie and I pick up a Christmas tree on the way back home. Plus a wreath. It’s cold outside and I don’t have cash and I run across the street to the ATM and then it occurs to me just how lucky I have it. I’m buying a tree without thinking about it. Something not everyone can do. I have privileges. Not everyone has the same opportunities. What’s more is not everyone has the same way of ambling about things, the same way of making one’s way. Some people, quite plainly, are just more forgetful. I remember a story someone told me of a friend of there’s who forgot their own kid in a public square and took a bus back home without the child. He noted that he loved his kids very much but that didn’t stop him from having a super lousy memory.

I feel stupid for my initial theory about the owner having a mental illness. I was wrong about that. They were just forgetful.

Obviously there are humane concerns. These dogs need to be cared for. But we have to care for each other too. And, in this case, that means accepting that everybody is struggling and everybody is hurting and everybody is surviving, and therefore compassion is the key.

Homo sapiens is an animal species too. When I look into the eyes of a fellow human, I am also looking into the eyes of an animal, as they are when they look into my eyes. We are animals. We are animals that have to take care of each other, too.

I can be angry that someone was negligent to a poor canine. But I also have to let it go. Who am I to judge?

As I purchase the tree and grab the wreath, something of the Christmas spirits wafts into the scene, and my ire lifts. Bernie, Casca and I are now free to return to our lives with all of the time and space that this pandemic allows for processing momentous events such as these.

How apt, we say to ourselves on the way back, remarking about Sammy’s real name, which we learned when the owners were initially claiming him, that he was called Lucky.

#dogs #dogs of tumblr #lost dog #found dog

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kittykatz009 · 4 years

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Mocha Choco Latte: A KiriBaku fanfic

My first MHA fic, and it’s going to be a multi-chapter KiriBaku one! A special thank you to my lovely wives @wingsonghalo and @ittybittytoostormy, and my dear friend @musics-lifes-record. This insanity wouldn't have been possible without your constant encouragement. A special thank you to Wing for helping me with edits <3 I love you lots, babe Title: Mocha Choco Latte Pairing: Kirishima/Bakugou (with background Izuku/Ochacco) Rating: T, mostly for language Wordcount for chatper 1: 3,039 Summary: Katsuki hadn't anticipated spending his senior year of University working at a cafe, but who was he to complain when it paid the bills? Besides, what could be the worst thing that could happen? Also available on: AO3

Chapter 1: Caramel Mocha Frappuccino

If there was one thing that Bakugou Katsuki despised, it was people. Specifically, idiotic people. Like the ones who came in with a stupidly complex order that he had to repeat back twice to make sure he got each and every instruction right. Or the ones who would watch him make their drink, and the moment he would finish it, they would mention that they needed a milk alternative because god forbid they say something when ordering, or when they saw him grab the container of milk. And don’t even get him started on having to take their food orders; that was a new level of idiocy he hadn’t believed could be possible. Whoever said the customer is always right should be kicked in the face. He swore that this cafe was a beacon for idiots, and here he was, front and center, having to cater to their every whim.

“Kacchan, you’re scaring the customers again,” Midoriya Izuku commented as he approached the register to clock in.

“Can it, nerd. It’s not my fault that some people can’t get their order right the first time they order it,” he grouched, throwing a glare at the woman at the end of the counter who was typing away at her phone, her foot tapping impatiently as she waited for him to give her her drink.

“Still, you can try to be nicer to the customers. You are the cashier, after all.”

“And whose fault is that? I was perfectly happy being the cook until you fumbled because you were geeking out and spilled hot coffee all over the CEO of Nighteye Records.”

“Oh come on. I’ve apologized for that enough. You know I didn’t mean to! I just can’t help getting excited when I meet celebrities,” he complained as he shrugged on his apron.

“You’re lucky he didn’t try to get you fired, dumbass,” he scoffed, eyes rolling. He grabbed the cup from the steamer, the extra hot almond milk frothing, and quickly poured it into the to-go cup, mixing it in with the mocha syrup and the three decaf espresso shots, before popping a lid on the cup because heaven forbid he make the mistake of adding the whipped cream.

“Here,” he said, placing the drink on the edge of the counter aggressively. The woman huffed, throwing her phone in her purse before she scooped the cup up.

“About time. And would it kill you to be a little more appreciative of your customers? After all, you were the one who messed up my order in the first place. I can just take my business elsewhere, you know?” The challenging smirk she wore as she took a sip of her drink made Katsuki’s blood boil.

“Alright, listen here you b-”

“We are so sorry about the mistake! Please, have this cookie on the house!” Izuku interjected quickly, forcing himself between the seething Katsuki and the lady, thrusting a pastry bag in her direction.

“Well, at least ONE of you has manners. Thank you.” She snatched the bag out of his hand and stomped out of the store. Katsuki was fuming; how DARE she treat him like he was the idiot when she was the one who couldn’t get off her phone for more than five seconds to order her damn drink with the proper milk? He hoped she enjoyed the word “KAREN” scrawled across her cup. He turned toward Izuku, eyes narrowing.

“Quit it, Deku. I had that under control.” Izuku gulped, taking a step back from Katsuki, throwing his hands up in front of him in defense.

“You were about to call her a bitch, Kacchan. I had to do something. Sato’s told you if he gets any more complaints about you being rude to the customers, he’ll have to fire you.” Katsuki sighed, shoulders sagging as he realized just how right his friend was. He couldn’t afford to get himself fired, not with rent coming up soon. He was sure that Deku would help him out if that did happen, but damnit, his pride wouldn’t allow freaking Deku of all people to be the one to help him out of a bind like that, even if he was his roommate.

“Whatever. Anyway, Batteries for Brains dipped early, so I’m glad you showed up. Wasn’t looking forward to trying to run both the line and the register on my own. He should be lucky that all the orders so far have been for drinks and pastries, otherwise I’d have to kill him.”

“Kaminari’s a good guy. He probably had a very valid reason for leaving early,” Izuku said, heading toward the kitchen.

“Hopefully to tutoring. That guy’s math is atrocious,” he griped, counting the drawer down for shift change. “Oh yeah, pastry girl asked about you,” he called over his shoulder, smirking as he heard Deku run into the door frame, a muffled swear falling from him.

“U-Uraraka? What did she have to say?” he asked nervously, rubbing the red spot on his forehead.

“Wanted to know what you were up to this weekend. Told her to ask you herself.”

“Kacchan! That’s so rude!” Izuku whined, grabbing the pickup order ticket that printed off, scanning over it before grabbing one of the to-go cups to scrawl the instructions on it.

“What? I gave her your number, you moron. I’m not that heartless.” He finished counting down the drawer, noting that that idiot Kaminari short changed him, and took the cup from Izuku, whose face was as red as one of Sato’s cherry danishes.

“W-why would you do that?” he stammered, grabbing the next ticket and moving to the pastry case.

“Because clearly you’re not going to be the one to make the first move. You’ve been pining over her like an idiot since we first started here. I still can’t believe she caught you when you tripped on that drink that you spilled. You could barely stutter out the words ‘thank you’; do you really think I expect you to be able to ask her out?”

“I guess you’re right,” he sighed. “Thanks for having my back, Kacchan.”

“It’s whatever. You owe me one,” Katsuki grunted out as he sprayed the whipped cream on top of the drink before fitting the lid on it snugly. He placed the finished drink next to the pastry bag on the pick up rack and went for the next order. “Here, this one needs actual food. Get out of my space, loser.” Izuku took the ticket with a smile and went to the small kitchen, humming as he got to work.

Time passed idly, customers trickling in—some passing through for pick up, others dining in—and Bakugou was counting down the minutes until he was off. The dinner rush had come and gone, leaving the two to focus on the pre-closing procedures in between orders. Which left Katsuki with time to let his mind wander.

Working in a cafe wasn’t how he anticipated his senior year of university going, but it paid the bills. The place had a nice homey quality to it—the mismatched chairs and tables scattered about the dining area paired with various paintings and prints from local artists really made the ambiance. There was a small section by the register that displayed various knick knacks made in the community that were for sale, though Katsuki hated dealing with those purchases since there was a lot of paperwork involved to make sure that the right artist got their money. The real money maker of the cafe laid in the pastry case, though. Sato’s confections were famous throughout Akihabara; many locals supported the young business man who had a heart of gold and sweets to match. And Sato wasn’t a bad guy to work for. Quite the opposite, in fact; he paid his employees well and was very flexible with their schedules since most of them attended University of Akihabara, which is how Katsuki got roped into the evening shift. Not that he was complaining about that—it was generally a quiet time and he didn’t have to deal with as many stupid customers. Overall, it wasn’t a bad gig.

Katsuki had just finished breaking down the decaf espresso machine (good riddance—it was an abomination to mankind) when the bell at the front door jingled, announcing the arrival of a new customer. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for this onslaught of stupidity. The last patron had argued with him until they were both red in the face about the cafe having diet whipped cream, even though he assured him that the cafe never had any to begin with. Eventually, he was able to convince him that the drink was perfectly delicious without a topping, and sent him on his merry way, all the while wishing he could punt kick that pint-sized asshole across the room.

He exhaled and made his way to the register, finally looking up and blinking in surprise as he took in the appearance of the customer waiting on him. This guy looked ridiculous—his obnoxiously bright red hair was spiked up and Katsuki was sure that this guy was trying to emulate either a hedgehog or a porcupine. His choice of clothing, or lack thereof, was as disastrous as his hair. His chest was fully exposed and the only sort of covering his upper half had was some sort of weird cropped red and black jacket. Black pants tucked themselves into hideous muddy-red boots, but what really took the cake was not the weird open-mouth face mask that he wore; instead, it was the piss-poor attempt at red chaps that were held together by a gaudy-looking R-shaped belt buckle. He looked like he walked right off the page of some sort of shitty manga that he was sure Deku would read. It wasn’t like they didn’t get cosplayers in the cafe, because they did all the time, but this was surely the most bizarre one he had seen. The guy smiled at him, and Katsuki had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid, over-friendly cosplayers.

“Welcome to Sugar Rush. What do you want?” he asked gruffly, ignoring the softly chastising “Kacchan” coming from the kitchen. He couldn’t help it—he had had his fill of idiots for the day and his feet were fucking sore.

“Uhh,” the redhead eloquently replied, craning his neck to look at the menu. Clearly this guy was more brawn than brains, in Katsuki’s most humble opinion. Miraculously, he kept himself from tapping his fingers against the countertop in annoyance while the other scanned over the hand-written list of drinks, his eyes finally lighting up in delight as he settled on one.

“I would like one of the caramel mocha frappuccinos please!” he said with a smile and Katsuki noted that the guy even had put in false teeth; the ones grinning back at him were sharp and dangerous looking.

“Size?”

“Um, large?” he replied, though to Katsuki, it seemed like he was uncertain.

“Is this for here or to go?” Katsuki was praying that the guy said to go because if he had to wipe down the lobby one more time before they closed, he was sure he was going to lose his mind.

“To go, unfortunately,” the cosplayer laughed, handing his card over as Katsuki gave him the total. “Oh yeah, don’t you need to ask my name?” he asked, putting the card away along with his receipt.

“Nah, I’ve got it. Just go to the end of the counter,” he replied, scribbling on the cup then turning to get the ingredients, effectively cutting off any conversation. He swore he heard the cosplayer mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “of course you do ” under his breath, but Katsuki refused to ask. As he stood up, milk in hand, he was met with disapproving green eyes peering at him from over the kitchen window.

“Not a word, Deku. And I swear to god, if you come out here, I’ll kill you,” he threatened while measuring out the milk. Izuku sighed, shaking his head and disappeared from Katsuki’s line of sight, which he much preferred right now. He poured the milk in the blender, added the pumps of mocha and caramel syrup, and tossed the ice in before popping the top on the machine and turning it on. Katsuki caught himself checking out the cosplayer out of the corner of his eye while he waited for the drink to be blended perfectly. The guy was sort of cute, he mused. Kind of in that endearing puppy dog sort of way as he hummed along to the shitty pop music that was playing on the speakers while he scrolled his phone. It was ridiculous, however, that he would even be thinking about how attractive the guy was—he was sure that he would never see him again. That, and he was nothing more than a customer; Katsuki had no business daydreaming about how nice it would be to feel those arms wrap around him, crushing him to that stupidly beautiful chest that was on display for all to see. Nope, not at all. It was hopeless. Just a fleeting crush that would never come to fruition.

A crash from the kitchen followed by an exclamation of “oh holy shit ” snapped him out of his delusional thoughts, and he huffed out an angry sigh. Leave it to Deku to break something once again. He emptied the contents of the blender into the to-go cup, adding a swirl of whipped cream to the top before securing the lid to the cup with a soft pop. He felt a smirk start pulling at his lips as he turned around.

“Large caramel mocha frappuccino for a ‘Shitty Hair,’” he called out, causing the cosplayer to look up from his screen, blinking in bewilderment as he looked between Katsuki and the drink that was on the counter. The reaction was priceless, if Katsuki could admit that to himself, and it was totally worth the look on the cosplayer’s face and the shrill “Kacchan ” yelled at him. What Katsuki wasn’t expecting, however, was the cosplayer to start laughing, a deep rumbling sound that sent shivers running through him. God, why was this guy’s laugh even attractive? It wasn’t fair.

“Oh shit, that was great!” the cosplayer replied once he was finally able to catch his breath, wiping tears out of his eyes while reaching for the cup. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. Have a great day, man!” he exclaimed, placing some coins on the counter as a tip before grabbing a straw and leaving the cafe. Katsuki was baffled at the guy’s reaction—most people didn’t thank him for insulting them. He shook his head, pocketing the yen, and turned to see a heaving Izuku with his hands on his knees like he had just ran a marathon frantically looking between him and the now closing door.

“Kacchan! You can’t call people names like that! Do you even know who that was?” he cried.

“Uh, just some shitty cosplayer, duh?” Katsuki rolled his eyes at Izuku’s theatrics, grabbing the blender and heading to the sink to rinse it out.

“A cosplayer?? No! That was Kirishima Eijirou, Kacchan!” Izuku replied and Katsuki dropped the blender in the sink, whipping around to face him.

“Kirishima Eijirou, as in the fucking actor?” Katsuki could feel a ball of dread curling up in his stomach. He was hoping that Deku was wrong, but that nerd knew celebrities like the back of his hand. The exasperated look he got in return was more than enough to confirm his worst fears.

“Yes that Kirishima Eijirou, Kacchan. Oh my god, I can’t believe you called him Shitty Hair. What were you thinking?” he asked, pulling at his hair.

“In my defense, I thought he was just some shitty cosplayer! What the hell was that get up, anyway? God, it was awful.”

“Oh my god, you’re kidding me, right? He’s currently filming for the live-screen adaptation of the Red Riot comics. This has been a highly anticipated movie from director Toyomitsu Taishiro that’s been in the works for the past four years. All Might productions picked it up and they finally just got the casting settled last year and were able to move forward with the filming process. And, he’s the main character. Oh my god, my best friend just called the actor for one of my favorite comic book heroes Shitty Hair. Oh my god, what if he gets the cafe shut down? What will we do about rent money? I’m sure mom could help me out, but still…” he trailed and Katsuki had to take a deep breath.

“Calm down, you dork. I highly doubt he’s going to get the cafe shut down. Hell, he seemed to have a good laugh over what I said. Besides, if he was upset with anyone, it would be me, not you. So don’t overwork your brain over there with things that won’t happen.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Izuku exhaled, visibly calming. “I still can’t believe you did that, though.”

“Are you ever going to shut up about it?” Katsuki groaned, going back to cleaning the blender out.

“Only when you decide to stop holding you being a barista over my head because of the Nighteye incident,” he laughed, walking out to the lobby to lock the door and turn the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed.’

“Fair enough. Now, let’s get this shit done quick. My bed is calling my name.” They continued with their closing procedures, and as Katsuki was counting down the drawer for the night, his thoughts were haunting him. He just happened to have the shittiest luck, he determined. Not only was he crushing on a customer, but the customer was an actor. An actor who he happened to insult. Holy fuck. Great job, Katsuki. Way to fucking go. As they finished closing and were leaving the shop, he decided that it didn’t matter. This would just live to be an embarrassing tale that he would make sure he and Deku took to their graves. It’s not like he would ever see the guy again, after all.

Thanks for making it to the end of chapter one of my very first BNHA fic! Hope it was to your enjoyment. Please feel free to leave a review and let me know how I did! Chapter 2 should be coming soon <3

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 41: Armor Amore

Chapters: 41/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor(Marvel), Brunnhilde/Valkyrie(Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), TBH Who Among Us Doesn’t Find Armor To Be A Little Erotic, Thor And Brunnhilde Are Still Big Gossips, If You Couldn’t Tell I’m Still A Big ThorJane Shipper, I Don’t Care What Happens In Thor Four:More Thor, I Still Like It. Summary: Loki make plans for your future protection, while Thor and Brunnhilde Gossip Some More.

Loki sat at his desk idly sketching out his ideas. You needed protection. Ideally, he would be able to surround you with an impenetrable wall of soldiers, but he couldn't trust his soldiers. Not with you.

He would have to screen special bodyguards for you, and make sure his entire entourage was both unswerving in their loyalty to him, and fiercely protective of you.

Until then, the best he could do was to commission some proper armor for you. A bigger challenge that he had initially expected: your smaller form meant that he couldn't just find something in the armory and have it altered for you. Unless there was some practice armor for adolescents out there somewhere, he would have to order it made from scratch. The materials would have to be lightweight, no uru for certain. You were sturdy for a mortal, but you would simply never have anything akin to an Asgardian body.

He could have some leathers put together for you, something not unlike what he preferred to wear, though he would have to raid the armory again, and pull some scrap leathers to recycle their materials. The beasts of Alfheim that contributed their hides to Asgard's superior leather goods were no longer available, and the animals here, while serviceable, were simply inferior. He would not trust your precious self with inferior armor.

You would need more than one set. And since you could not yet call your clothing to your body, any armor would have to be easy to get into and out of, requiring only one, possibly two people.

The idea of helping you into-and out of-armor that he had designed for you rose unbidden to his mind. He sighed dreamily, pausing his sketching to flesh out the daydream.

Armor consisted of multiple layers; there was all the metal, of course, which went on top and served to look intimidating as well as protecting vital areas. You wouldn't wear much of that, only over the very vulnerable parts. Otherwise, it would get too heavy. He'd get you pieces of nornbein, if he could, since it was hard and strong, but also relatively lightweight for metal. Over your chest of course, and your back. There should be plates on the shoulders, the upper arms, the forearms. The parts most likely to be aimed for. These few, select pieces would be fastened on over the leathers, and each piece, he would teach you about while he put it on you...or took it off of you.

Then there were the leathers. There would be more of that; the material was more available, flexible, and lightweight. He'd have them closely tailored to you, for ease of movement and he would share his diagonal motif as well; it broke up the lines of the body, redirected and distracted the eyes, and also looked very good.

Depending on how it was put together, he could pull the leather pieces over your head, or wrap them around your body, and fasten them there. They would protect your flesh from the slashing of unjust blades, and they would look beautiful as well.

One had to wear a little padding underneath, to avoid chafing and pinching. Only the finest quilted Asgardain silk would grace your skin. He could just see it; how the quilting would round out and soften your form even more, how the soft, natural shimmer of the silk would make you shine like a polished gem. Silk was surprisingly tough, and resistant to piercing, even on this world. Tightly woven silk, with raw silk quilted between would offer you some protection from pointed weapons such as poisoned darts or hidden knives. It would also keep you nice and warm in the coming Icelandic winter. He didn't really feel the cold, but humans certainly did, and you weren't even someone who had lived here and gotten used to it. You would need all the warmth that could be provided: Thicker clothes, more blankets, his arms.

If you were amenable. He also had a fireplace, if you felt more comfortable there. And the bath, which he would still very much like to share with you, under better circumstances this time. Warm and steamy, with cleansing soaps and fragrant oils.

But first you had to recover, and he had to get you your armor.

He wished he could have stayed in the healing wing with you, but Bjarkhild had kicked him out, with orders to get food and rest in his own bed. But he missed you. He couldn't stop thinking about you, lying alone in the healing wing, your poor face bruised, and swollen, your poor head delicate, and healing so slowly. What if you woke up again, and he wasn't there?

A man had to be dependable, didn't he? If he was serious about a suit, he had to be. Loki didn't think he was unreliable exactly, but that he was selective about the people and subjects that he was reliable for. For you, he wanted to be someone you could depend on, for anything and everything.

He had no experience in this.

When he was much younger, he had thought to find a partner for himself, and to be the best possible partner available. He was a prince, he had the highest education, he could offer everything. This was long before he realized that he would never be a match for his brother in looks or popularity.

As he grew, his relationships had been few and infrequent, and always disappointing. He had a poets heart, but the only people who bothered to look at him were not really there for him. He became hard to approach.

Finally, he realized that, as the second son, he would be most useful in a political marriage, where love wasn't necessary, and that everything would be decided for him...so he had simply given up trying.

If not for his kingship and his continued mooning over his lost mortal lady, Thor would never have an empty bed. In fact, Thor had been sent crashing to Earth as a homeless, powerless, boorish drifter, and hadn't even spent an hour before he'd found someone willing to love him. Maybe he knew some things that could help Loki out. As long as those things didn't involved being born blessed and beautiful. There was nothing Loki was going to be able to do about that.

He began sketching again. You needed something for your head, a helmet of your own. Something that should be personalized just for you, so that any one who saw you would know who they were looking at. Something crown-like...

He was interrupted again, this time by Andsvarr entering the room, stiff as starched paper and carrying a bundle, wrapped in quality cloth.

Loki looked him over. “Well.” He said. “Out with it.”

“I bring a gift from the Garprlings. A blood-price for the lady.” Andsvarr announced, not looking Loki in the eye.

“...I took Alarr's sword hand.” Loki stated.

“And thus satisfied the insult done to yourself. This is specifically for the seidkona.”

Loki rose and took the bundle from Andsvarr. The cloth was a cloak, made of plush velvet, in a cool, minty green. It wrapped a partial set of armor, made primarily from nornbein and steel, sized for an adolescent.

“This is...fortuitous.” Loki said. “I see our thoughts are running along the same lines. Did this belong to you?”

“My second eldest brother.” Andsvarr said. “It was made for him upon his entry into guard training. It may need to be altered, but I think it is small enough.”

Loki set the pieces on his desk, next to his sketches. A steel and nornbein breastplate that would only cover the front, long, layered pauldrons in nornbein and good, Alfheim leather, that would reach nearly to your elbows, and a pair of nornbein bracers over worn leather half-gauntlets. All of those would likely need altering to fit you properly. There was a pair of steel greaves and poleyns for your knees, but both needed their leather backings and fastenings replaced. There was even a set of very flexible steel and leather tassets, that would not even require altering to fit you, they could just be tied around your waist like a belt.

“This is a very good start.” Loki said, blessing the stars that someone has seen fit to keep even a partial set of adolescent armor.

“No one argued when I took it. They know we owe her.”

“How have things been?” Loki asked casually, beginning a list of repairs and supplies for the new armor.

Andsvarr sighed and drew himself up. “Quiet. Our doors are closed. Mother has been turning away 'well-wishers' after the first few came with conspiracies and offers that would have caused more trouble. She is tired of all this. I am beyond tired of all this. These people seek only to use us, and it's been obvious from the start. But Father thought...I don't know. He thought something important would be lost, but I really don't understand his mind.”

“I know what it is that he fears.” Loki said. “And he is right to fear it, but wrong to believe that it will not come to pass. We will integrate. Our culture will change. There is no way around it. But the thing is, we need to change. We've needed it for a long time. My Father's prophesy is proof of that, I'm sure of it.”

“Father will never accept it I'm afraid.” Andsvarr said.

“That will not stop it from happening. All empires fall. No supremacy is truly eternal. The true measure of the people is how they persevere during the decline. As long as the people adapt and survive, they have a chance to rise again.” Loki gestured out his window. “You can see examples of this in high speed on this planet. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of nations and kingdoms have grown up and disappeared. Some survived through change, others suffered diaspora. Others crashed so hard that even their languages are lost. All on a planet of beings so brief that some of their greatest empires rose and fell within your lifetime, changing the landscape and culture around them, then retreating back to their homes. Their impact remains, and we should consider that, I think. What will our impact be? What do we want to leave behind, now that we are no longer the pinnacle of the realms? Is there anything we can do to remedy our mistakes?”

“Your Highness?”

“Just musing.” Loki patted the armor. “I made mistakes here. It cost lives. Maybe if I wasn't trying so hard to buck the Norns all the time, I might believe that she was brought to me by fate, so that I might make up for a fraction of what I did on this world.”

“Your Higness, I'm sorry. I should have realized something like this was coming, with the way he spoke of her.”

“You are absolved, Andsvarr. It was never your fight. Shouldn't have been hers, should have been mine alone. But she is part of my court now, and that exposes her. So we will cover her with armor. We are honored by your contribution.”

“Yes, your Highness.” Andsvarr said, taking his cue to leave.

*****

“Well,” Thor said gleefully. “He's admitted it!”

“What? No way, she's only almost died like, three times.” Brunnhilde said. “When did he tell you?”

“Yesterday. She hadn't woken up yet, and the head healer had kicked him out for awhile.”

“Damn. I really thought it would take a lot longer than that...”

“Well, it didn't, and you know what that means.” He held his hand out. “I win. Hand it over.”

Grumbling, Brunnhilde removed a flask from her belt and gave it to him. “I guess I'm glad for him. Little sorry for him too. This probably isn't gonna be easy.”

“There is nothing easy or simple about mortals. Speaking of, I am thinking about allowing Trollekaerhalla to observe Buridag with us. Perhaps in their own, fenced off area, so that they can't get into trouble in the city.”

“That's gonna require so many guards.” Brunnhilde pointed out. “Otherwise, it sounds like a good starting point for familiarizing them with us. Sharing holidays and such. How are you going to make sure the other camps don't sneak in?”

“I'm not.” Thor said. “If they want to come and learn more about us, they can. Everyone will be checked for weaponry at the gate, of course. No signs, no masks, just holiday merriment. We could share samples of Asgardian food, maybe little cups of drink-”

“They will die.” Brunnhilde stated.

“Okay, maybe just hot chocolate. And they will get the opportunity to be present at _____'s official seidkona declaration. An historic moment when our peoples will join.”

A sudden sadness washed over his features.

“I wish Jane could be there.”

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes. “Why don't you just invite her then?”

“I can't. She's so busy, and I'm so busy, and that was part of the reason...Why would she even want to come? Her last experience with Asgard was so terrible. And then there was all the trouble with the Restoration...she consented to see me one more time, and she had to deal with that damn Stone again! I'm sure she thought I was just using her. She just wants a normal life as the worlds greatest scientist, and anytime she comes near me, she ends up in terrible danger.”

“Uh-huh, and your massive fear of rejection has nothing to do with it.”

“Well, would you want your ex showing up?”

“Yeah, actually.” Brunnhilde said. “I'd actually love that more than anything.”

Thor hung his head. “Forgive me. I spoke like a fool.”

“You sure did, but you get it, so that's good.” Brunnhilde clapped his shoulder. “Give it a little thought though. We need all the allies we can get, and the world's greatest scientist sounds like a good one to have.”

“It's so much easier to focus on Loki's love life.” He groused.

“Why? Did little brother used to be some kind of womanizer?”

“No, very much the opposite. He's very honorable, and subsequently, has very little experience. And he knows nothing of mortal courtships.”

“So he's going to be a total disaster.” Brunnhilde said. “Well, that will be entertaining at least.”

“Heartless wench.” Thor snorted.

“You know it.” Brunnhilde joked, clapping him on the shoulder again. Thor winced.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#brunnhilde (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)

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omgokiguess · 5 years

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i’m really glad that i work for anthro and didn’t go with tory burch and also didn’t switch to topshop. i just feel like anthro is doing so much stuff right. like they have such high quality clothes, they are SO talented at branding, and everybody loves anthro so much that basically every customer acts sweet and nice with us because they’re always happy.

there’s a few customers that annoy us. like this one lady comes in all the time to return stuff that she ordered online and like, it’s annoying that our store is always losing numbers from her returns. and she comes in like twice a week with returns. and there’s one lady that just comes in all the time and tries stuff on but never ever buys anything. but otherwise everyone is so nice and like, just a pleasant customer.

we do kind of shoot ourselves in the foot with our flexible return policy (now it’s 60 days and you do not need a receipt, but it used to be no time limit, no receipt necessary). it doesn’t matter if the items are damaged either, even if they were like thrown into a fire. even if the candle is all the way used, we’ll take the return. but a lot of people actually manage to scam us with fraudulent returns. they fake barcodes and everything. not at my store, but at chicago ave and southport they do. but we need to have that return policy, we really do, because so many women are really such flakes and are just like “i don’t want this” and they really like that they can almost certainly return our merchandise, and then they do come back for more stuff.

and i feel like at anthro there is ALWAYS activity. like, i can work every single day a week and every single day stuff is in a different spot. like oh those shirts are upstairs now, those skirts are downstairs now. and like recently our 401k plan changed. and every three or four months we make completely new displays in the store. and they’re super beautiful and intricate. and i feel like that constant activity keeps us passionate, on our toes, selling more stuff. i really do think that. i don’t think the constant and somewhat random activity is pointless, i think it keeps us moving. and i really like that about the company. we also do move SO MUCH product. like every monday and thursday we get shipments of new products and our store needs 3 people for like 6 hours for each shipment just to unpackage shit. like we’re just in the basement opening boxes and taking off plastic wrap and putting it on hangers. and it’s just a lot of merchandise change. and sometimes stuff goes on sale really fast, so sometimes we have people just working on markdowns. i like doing markdowns cause i like the sticker machines. and i also like doing shipment because opening new products is like getting new presents. the constant activity like that is a business characteristic i’ve never encountered, and i really like the effects it has on employees.

also i messaged a girl on nuuly today and i was like will you guys ever have rental shoes? cause i’m super terrible at buying shoes, i like never do it. at any given time i have like three pairs of shoes. and two people responded to me and they were so cute, they were like we’re just excited to talk to our customers! and i was like lmao i get it i work here. like we really are! we love talking to our customers!

i would like highly recommend working at anthro to any girl in undergrad that is majoring in fashion or business (esp if they plan to go into some sort of women’s business) because there’s just a lot of insight/content to be taken away from there. i would also recommend working at anthro to any mom that has a rich husband that just wants a whatever job. like i know a few moms that work at the anthro in deer park (closest one to barrington) and they fucking love it.

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rockmiyabideusexmachina · 5 years

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2019 Megaman Valentine’s Day Contest Rules Post

It’s year number 12 of lovey dovey-buku contest art, and I’m back at it again. No secret categories, no surprise themes. These are just the two options you all voted on the most, this time around. Let’s do it!

Two categories, in which you are allowed to submit one entry for each category, if you would like. If you place in one category, you will be automatically disqualified from the other, for reasons of fairness, and to give other people a chance to win a prize.

CATEGORY 1: The Way To A Mega Man’s Heart Is Through His Stomach (Talent)

Content Requirements:

* A pinup category focusing on Mega Man characters who are cooking, baking, eating, feeding their partner, lounging on or around supersized pieces of food, or creatively wearing clothing that appears to be made out of aesthetically appealing food products. Basically, some sort of delectable food must be drawn along with at least one character.

* As this is the talent category, judging will be based primarily on the overall composition of your piece and your artistic skills. How well can you bring delicious, appetizing food to life, along with your delicious, appetizing character(s)?

Who says robots can’t enjoy food? Certainly not Fully Charged Guts Man. XD

A popular proverb has long held that one can often fall deeper in love due to their partner preparing their favorite food or sharing a romantic meal with one another. There have been many instances of Mega Man characters who would likely operate in a similar fashion, due to their love for their fave dishes. Netto has his insatiable craving for curry, while his papa Yuuichirou’s palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, as he holds his fork waiting for mama’s spaghetti. Megaman Volnutt wants his sweets so badly, he’d kick a vending machine to pieces to get them, or bug the lady at Jetlag Bakery for those yummy confectioneries. Kelvin Stelar went a more healthy route and loved carrots as much as his wife’s homemade carrot gratin. And don’t forget the delicious cake waiting for Ashe or Grey in the fridge of Hunter’s Camp 4.

So, your task for this category is to draw the Mega Man character(s) of your choice tempting their Valentine with some delicious food. Some sweets for their sweetie, if you will. But the character you draw can be pretty tempting themselves, to go along with their treats. Create a tastefully seductive combo meal that will leave our mouths watering for more!

Now remember, as much as some of you out there might have first thoughts to draw some melons, bananas and glazed honey buns, this category is not meant to get explicit. No frontal nudity is allowed. So please follow tumblr brand censorship guidelines™ when creating your art, or it will be flagged, hidden from the public and not included in the competition. ;p

CATEGORY 2: Princess Sigmia Returns (Humor)

Content Requirements:

* A Megaman character who takes the primary form of another, opposite gender Megaman character due to a magical crown/mystery tank/navigator’s headset/biometal/battle chip/etc. This character is looking for love this Valentine’s Day. How they attempt to obtain a date/partner is up to you.

* As this is the humor category, judging will be based primarily on how funny your piece is. Consideration will also be given to a lesser degree on your creativity in combining your characters into a hybrid, and your overall design for them. But the point of this category is to make us laugh!

Following 2018’s hottest videogame art trend, that of the genderbent transformation of Bowser and crew into Princess Peach-looking alternate forms of themselves, it’s time to continue that spin with more Mega Man characters.

Looking to clean up real nice in the ultimate battle body for a night of love and romance, Princess Sigmia is ready to hit the club/restaurant/park/etc., and this time she’s brought friends.

Your goal for this category is to create the funniest romantic scenario this hybrid character can get into on Valentine’s Day. What made them use this magical, transformative item? What are the reactions of other characters to this newly made up character, who resembles someone they thought they knew? Let your imagination run wild, and draw most hilarious creation you can come up with!

There are no restrictions on what characters you merge, and no, you don’t have to stick with my combination of Sigma and Alia. You can base your transformations off of heroes or villains, minor enemies or main characters. It just has to follow the similar format of gaining the appearance of a familiar character of the opposite gender, while still retaining some characteristics of the original character. So, whether you create Mistress Ashebert, Mega Man VolBonne, Rainbow Cieldevil, Prince Praika, or Crimson Akane, the combinations are all up to you!

PRIZES:

It’s the usual, ‘get-what-you want’ option, for the top 3 artists in each category. As always, if you prefer a cash prize through Paypal, and just need the money, that’s typically the easiest and quickest option to get your reward.

But like normal, I will be flexible and work with the winners to purchase Megaman-related prizes, if there’s something you’ve really had your eye on and would like ordered. Be it a Roll Caskett 4-inch Nel, Fully Charged figures, artbook re-releases, Mastermix issues, or some other trinket. If I can find it within your prize price range and order it to be shipped straight to you, I will do all I can to make it happen!

The winners for both the Talent and Humor categories will receive the following:

*1st Place: $100 USD or an item(s) up to that value.

*2nd Place: $50 USD or an item(s) up to that value.

*3rd Place: $25 USD or an item(s) up to that value.

PARTICIPATION PRIZE RAFFLE:

Since they have gone pretty well in the past, I once again will be offering participation prizes. Some might say a few of these are quite X-cellent prizes, in honor of X’s 25th anniversary this year. In order to be eligible for the participation prizes, all you need to do is enter a pic for either the Talent or Humor Category!

Like previous years, if there is a prize here you are NOT interested in, please note that when you send in your submission(s) to me. Otherwise, you will be automatically entered in the raffle for a chance at each of these items.

If you draw a pic for both the Humor and the Talent Categories, you can double your chances to win! (Odds of course, depending on how many others enter and also draw two pics.) You will be able to add your name into the drawing a second time for just 1 of these prizes.

Raffle Prize #1 – Rockman 8 Anime Cel (with Genga)

Name a more iconic Duo. I’ll wait. This cel of Duo is a tight headshot from the midgame cutscene. After waking up, Duo sees the vial of Evil Energy by Doctor Light’s computer, crushes it, and proceeds to say “HE STILL LIVES!” before screaming in this frame and blasting off through the ceiling of Light Labs.

This is almost quite certainly your last chance to win a Rockman 8 cel from me, so best of luck to all who want to take it home!

Thanks to a generous donation from @silentally, there are also 3 other pairs of raffle prizes (*pictures to be edited in and added soon):

Raffle Prize #2 – Set of Mega Man X Official Complete Works Artbook and a beaded Zero keychain

Raffle Prize #3 – Set of a framed 3D sprite art piece of X’s iconic Vile battle, as Zero comes to the rescue, and a handmade Zero plush

Raffle Prize #4 – Set of Tamashii Buddies Zero figure and a Zero emblem wristband

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES:

When you submit, I would prefer you to include the following information in this format, along with your entry:

• (Your name/preferred alias) – As much as I usually know who you are, there’s always someone new or somebody who has a different preference from what their email name says.

• (Category this entry is for) – You can either say 1 or 2, or Talent/Humor

• (Participation Prize Eligibility) – Just write “All” if you are interested in the chance to win anything. Write: “Exclude from # __” if you do not have interest in winning a particular participation prize.

In the event you are submitting your second entry, please specify which prize # you would like your bonus chance in the raffle to be put towards.

Only submit your own work, as usual. Any character, major or minor, from any series is allowed. Pairing characters from different series is totally allowed. Same-gender pairings are completely fine. OCs are allowed, as long as your art contains at least one canon Megaman character.

As always, participants are allowed to submit from all over the world. It’s easier for me to get prizes to US entrants, because international shipping is complicated and pricey, but I’ll do what I can for you guys who aren’t in the States.

Paypal is still the preferred method for cash prize payouts. Please have a valid account to receive your winnings.

Youngin's, get your parents permission before entering.

Entries do not need to be colored, but it is preferred. The more effort put into things as always, the better chance you have!

Entries can either be e-mailed to me at rock2125[at]hotmail[dot]com, or you can just PM/note me a link to your pic.

DO NOT post your pics in this journal, your dA galleries, Twitter, tumblr blogs, other sites, etc. until the contest is over. This is the fairest way for competitive reasons. I prefer to keep them all secret until the deadline has passed.

I'll edit a confirmed entry list in this thread when I receive them. So you won't be in the dark about whether or not I've received your entry.

DEADLINE:

The deadline for this contest will be Tuesday, February 12th, 2019 by 11:59PM CST. *EXTENDED!* New deadline is Wednesday, February 27th, 2019. This gives you a little more than 5 weeks to finish your entry!

MISCELLANEOUS INFO:

As usual, If you don't plan to enter, but would like to help me judge, please let me know through DM or mention so here. Never hurts to have extra opinions on all the entries.

Bug me with questions if you have any. Please join in, and good luck to everyone who enters!

CONFIRMED ENTRIES:

Cat. 1 (Talent) - @prar-draws, @larytello, @drewblossom, @bracedshark, subzeroiceskater, @irischroma, @papillonthepirate, SockMonkii

Cat. 2 (Humor) - @drewblossom (x2), @bracedshark, subzeroiceskater,

#Rockman #Megaman #Mega Man #Rock Miyabi's 2019 Megaman Valentine's Day Contest

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realmzenith · 6 years

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elaina ! :)

lays down, mai ily. anyways?? someone pls save elaina she Needs help

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?fairly long?? but not super long it’d make her anxious. maybe twenty minutes. it’d be a different story if it was a life or death thing tho obv

How easy is it for your character to laugh?difficult. from one to ten w one being v easily she’s like a 7. but for full uninhibited laughter it’s a solid 9. she mostly smiles and when she does laugh it’s at the dumbest things

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)she’ll lurk on instagram or think which are honestly both bad ideas for her bc instagram makes her depressed bc her social life sux and thinking makes her depressed bc she’s pessimistic and tends to overthink EVERYTHINg. however sometimes she’ll be smart abt it and read a book or look at plant pics or space which will more often than not successfully allow her to relax and get some shut eye

How easy is it to earn their trust?HM not too difficult prbly a 3 if ur nice to her and ur not a complete idiot- ok well. just if ur nice to her bc she literally falls in love w josie an idiot in her storyline

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?moderately difficult she has a hard time accepting that the ppl she trusts are capable of wronging her and usually assumes it was smth she did. she’s kind of an idiot like that so yk :) she’s prbly a 6 on that one? if we’re also accounting for the ppl she moderately trusts. however if we’re only talking abt the ppl she genuinely completely trusts it’s like an 8. she’s not COMPLETELy stupid but still p stupid abt relationships

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?rules should be followed. she accepts them as a given and that they will be followed as a given. it’ll srsly throw off her game if someone starts blatantly disobeying the law in front of her even if it is just a nominal thing

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?she’s not a v emotional person? she does feel deeply but hmm i suppose she is fairly nostalgic. certain melodies played on the guitar would prbly be one of the bigger triggers. her mom used to play and she and her dad would sing like dorks but they?? kind of dont do it anymore and she misses it but she isn’t sure how to ask to do it again. it’s the same w disney movies. they don’t watch them as a fam as much as they used to anymore but they still do on occasion! as for enjoying it she doesn’t rlly like nostalgia?? but she lets herself fall into it frequently

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?she was constantly told to talk to the other kids. she’s never been v social or good w ppl as she prefers her small group of ppl she knows and is comfortable w plus she’s an only child so she’s always been forced to socialize esp in casual settings

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?not super frequently. she does say damn bc that’s just the classic xstj swear word, her first she remembers v distinctly. it was “bitch” and completely her older cousin’s fault

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?she lowkey feels like her entire life is a lie? she’s a smart gal and gets good grades easily. she’s close to the top of her class and is considered one of the smart kids. but she herself is convinced she’s painfully mediocre and despite her other talents and unique personality traits she’s like :) im sorry for lying to u all i actually have zero interesting qualities and am a drag but ofc she never voices that bc lbr insecurity? ugly and she doesn’t want to lose the few friends she does have bc she dumped her fears on everyone else. she is, as i said, a Mess

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?she almost always pretends she understands but if she doesn’t feel like there’ll be negative consequences to asking for clarification and she’s feeling confident she’ll bluntly ask the other person to clear things up for her esp in a business type setting such as school projects, etc. it’s situational but socially speaking? she’ll pretend until she Dies

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?ask nico to get it or just struggle for ages to try to get it herself

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?she likes green and black but thinks she looks p drab in most things. in all actuality she prbly does look sharpest in black but yellow makes her look super cute, brings out a softer side of her. dark green is also flattering on her

What animal do they fear most?hm prbly eels esp electric eels. they freak her out for no particular reason. otherwise, she likes most animals and doesn’t mind most bugs

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?she does usually think before she speaks. on the extreme she’ll turn over a phrase abt ten times in her mind before even considering speaking it aloud but that’s rare and only in high stress situations. despite the fact that she does think before she speaks she’s very blunt abt most things. lay it out like it is and all. embellishing sentences or softening her statements is smth she rarely does as she finds it inefficient

What makes their stomach turn?reckless behavior she HATES when ppl do stupid risky crap in front of her she finds it very unnecessary and anxiety inducing

Are they easily embarrassed?oh yes absolutely

What embarrasses them?everything. anything. her existence. ppl flirting w her. her parents. being teased. being incompetent. being singled out for anything. lots of things :)

What is their favorite number?she likes the number 60. no reason in particular it’s just a nice number. cue her friend, nico in the back yelling SIXTY???? MORE LIKE SEXY

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?oh oof dont talk to her about love it throws her for an existential crisis. hm but if srsly asked this she’d prbly say smth like “familial love is smth we’re rarely allowed to choose. platonic is more logical and circumstantial, and romantic is a combination of the two in the sense that it’s ur heart’s choice to begin and ur mind’s to continue.”

Why do they get up in the morning? society dictates that in order for an individual to contribute meaningfully to the world, you must get up by 7 am and do whatever lot’s been handed to you. thus she, as a good functioning member of society, gets up in the mornings and drives to school day in and day out as fate has dictated her duty to be

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? erratic. she’ll act strangely and become more distant. if it continues for long enough she’ll eventually snap at whoever’s nearest and asking what’s up w her

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? it makes her sad tbh sldkfjlkj she’s like welp.. this is the lot i’ve been given if i don’t accept it that’s my problem. then she keeps her head up and carries on

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? she prefers not to talk abt sex. she’d be v confused if someone brought up the topic of sex casually tho she isn’t SUPER squeamish abt discussing it it’s just?? unprofessional so why would u? ofc w her s/o she would be more than willing to discuss it in order to smooth out questions or misunderstandings before yk. actually. doing the sex

What are their thoughts on marriage? marriage to her is one of the pillars of society, and while she respects people who don’t want to get married, for herself she views it a checkbox on her list of things she needs to do before she dies. it’s?? like she sort of has a timeline and marriage is on the list of things that need to happen sometime in her twenties. she believes marriage should be a mutually beneficial union based on love and respect and believes that along w family units it’s a wonderful invention. however, despite all of this she kind of doubts she’ll ever get married bc she’s like who would date me lbr here :) and while simultaneously seeking after marriage she’s resigned herself to becoming an eventual crazy old cat lady

What is their preferred mode of transportation? she prefers bullet trains. efficient, usually comfortable, she doesn’t have to drive- what more could you want? she’s also fond of walking if a place is close by. helps her chill

What causes them to feel dread? the feeling that a relationship is falling apart and the divide between herself and the other person is growing. the little things like not waiting for the other person after class or “forgetting” to mention another thing about their day- the small things that point to a relationship breaking down. if there’s one thing she hates more than unnecessary conflict and having to just end things then and there it’s watching things slowly fall apart. that is extremely dread inducing in her opinion

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? if u asked her? she’d say she prefers the truth. in reality? she prefers the lie. she internalizes things and oftentimes “unpleasant truths” can weigh her down for ages. frequently enough to note, she’ll allow herself to continue in ignorance rather than accept the reality of the truth which she’ll sort of know she’s doing but just push to the back of her mind in order to avoid the panic that comes with actually confronting the problem. ignorance is bliss and all. nevertheless, in the long run and in hindsight, she prefers the truth as ripping off the bandaid proves easier than pulling out misplaced stitches one by one

Do they usually live up to their own ideals? she doesn’t come close. she has very lofty ideals to which she holds both herself and others around her. she wants to be someone who’s looked up to as strong. she values efficiency, honesty, reliability and genuinely good motives as well as charisma, passion and confidence. she’s doing alright with the first few but the last three are debatable. she’s passionate about v select things and her confidence levels looks like a heartrate monitor

Who do they most regret meeting? herself. she regrets gaining sentience

Who are they the most glad to have met? josie ;) but nico and ale are close seconds

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? nope what’s a Conversation? what’s a Joke? she doesnt know them :)

Could they be considered lazy? that’s a no. she works extremely hard and nearly always carries through. it’s partially her nature and partially a way for her to “make up” for her perceived lack of talents

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? extremely difficult but w time she eventually can esp when given the right type of support

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? that’s. a hard one. she IS technically supportive but that’s only when she recognizes how much the thing means to the other person and she’s honestly rlly bad at reading these kinds of situations, so it’s rare that she actually does. she’ll kinda be like wtf but if she doesn’t recognize the other person is genuinely excited and invested in the thing she’ll do her best to give her own brand of awkward support

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?she’ll pursue a romantic interest if enough proof that it’s plausible is given but it’s rare that she gets enough “proof” for this to happen. generally speaking, she kind of pushes her desire for romance down. she’ll worry abt it later or at least until josie shows up eyes emoji

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? not rlly? she’ll just go thru things multiple times she’s not the most innovative person when it comes to things like this. route memorization is her go to

What memory do they revisit the most often?;) depends on where in the storyline we’re talking but post story defo the time when she and josie went hiking w some of their other friends and when they reached the summit of the mountain the clouds were beneath the peak n completely coating the sky. it looked like a carpet of clouds, like another world and they shared a bit of a Moment. the little things are what elaina rlly cherishes

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?difficult she’s a bit of a critical person. she’s also not the most tactful when it comes to emotional intelligence related situations so ppl will likely find out she does see those flaws in them if they stick around long enough

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?not SO much but she does take things to heart. she’s sort of?? accepted her perceived mediocrity and general dullness but she’s in no way ceasing to attempt to change other things abt herself. so she’ll seemingly take criticisms in stride but they’ll stick w her when she’s Overthinking

How do they feel about children? kids are? good? she likes kids. as for having them, she’s considered it some and she thinks she might like to. at the same time, she also thinks she’d make a terrible parent- too harsh, bad w comfort, easily stressed. in all reality, she’d be better than most ppl as one esp after gaining a bit of confidence

How badly do they want to reach their end goal? rn the goal is graduating and she wants that fairly badly but she doesn’t particularly doubt her ability to achieve it. after that, it’s getting a good job which she also doesn’t overtly doubt as a certainty so yes she does want it but it’s not?? SUPEr concerning except when she begins to doubt her abilities and if she’ll ever feel like her life is fulfilling

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? she’s lesbian. she’d say it means she’s attracted to women

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

A) Why are you excited about this character?baby. she’s gonna find loveB) What inspired you to create them?love, simon! i wanted to write a cute lesbian high school romance so thus josie and elaina were bornC) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?nope!D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?nope again! she used to be full korean but now she’s half korean and half scandinavian! i think she used to be taller too she’s 5′5″ nowE) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?there are some aspects of each other that would get on the other’s nerves. like i dont think she’d appreciate the wonky outbursts i sometimes have and i’d get annoyed by her lack of social tact/annoyance at the world even tho i lowkey share those traits but otherwise i think we’d get along p well! i think i’d find her cute and i think she’d like my perceived confidence. we share a similar rationality as wellF) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?empathy she’s a big mood tbh and also i want her to be happy G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?her lack of emotional intelligence. while i like blunt and logic oriented ppl it’d get slightly frustrating after a while to be around someone who’s a lil oblivious to social/emotional cues even if that’s a moodH) What trait do you admire most?her humble diligence. i have to complain twice as much as her to get half the things she gets done doneI) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?i think she’d ALSO do great in a sci fi universe. ha maybe i need to give these kids a sci fi au verseJ) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?not rlly no!

#defenestrata #SFsldkjflskfj GOSH she sounds so depressing in this #i swear she's actually not this depressing #usually #i mean she's just got low self esteem ??#anyways i lov mai thanks for comign to my ted talk #elaina #triad #my ocs

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mrsteveecook · 5 years

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I can’t trust the snacks from my coworker, large employee won’t use heavy duty chair, and more

It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…

1. My boss wants me to fire a heavier employee if she won’t use a heavy duty chair

One of my employees is a rather heavy person and has broken four chairs in the past year. My office is pretty flexible about office equipment, so after the first chair, I gave her the catalogue to pick what she needed. After chair #2 and two conference room chairs broke, I suggested getting a heavy duty chair. She burst into tears and said she didn’t want a “fat lady chair” because it was stigmatizing. I get it. Our culture is unforgiving to fat people, especially fat women. Chair #3 met the fate of chair #2, so for chair #4 I ordered her a heavy duty chair. She swapped it with a coworker. That chair broke too. My boss, looking at our supply budget, said that she takes and uses a heavy-duty chair or she is gone.

So, my question to you is what did I do wrong to get to this point? And how should I approach the “use this chair or be fired” conversation? She’s an otherwise okay employee, not the best, not the worst. I just can’t have her absorbing the equipment budget for six people.

It’s reasonable to require her to sit in a chair rated for her weight, but your boss is being unreasonable by threatening to fire her over this, particularly when it doesn’t sound like anyone has told her directly this isn’t optional.

I don’t think you did anything wrong to get to this point — you were trying to be understanding — but you do need to be more direct now and say something like, “I know this is awkward, but we don’t have the equipment budget to replace chairs this frequently, so I need you to use the new chair I’m purchasing. You cannot swap it for someone else’s.” If she pushes back, say, “I’m sorry this is upsetting, but I don’t have any flexibility with the budget anymore, and I do need you to stick with the chair I’m purchasing.”

If your boss is really serious about firing her if she doesn’t comply, you’d be doing her a favor by letting her know that too. But ideally you’d push back with your boss on that, saying that you’re committed to making it clear your employee needs to use her own chair but that announcing her job is at stake over this will be counterproductive and alienating. If your employee refuses after you get clearer with her, that’s a different issue — one that wouldn’t about the chairs, but rather about her refusing to do something that you’ve explicitly told her she needs to do.

2. I can’t trust the snacks from my sort-of-vegan coworker

For about a month every year I go vegan. I’m newer to my current job so this hasn’t yet happened but will very soon. The problem is that my coworker Bessy is vegan. But she’s not. We’re a very snacky office and food gets brought in a lot. One time I brought in a snack and read out the ingredients to make sure Bessy would know if it was vegan. The snack had skim milk and I expressed that I was sorry she wouldn’t be able to eat it. But she ate it. We’ve also been out to lunch and she’s eaten pizza with non-vegan cheese and Mexican food that says on the menu it’s traditionally cooked in lard.

I am so not the food police and could care less about what Bessy labels herself. She’s fantastic and I have a very good working relationship with her. The thing is that when I go vegan I try very hard to stay completely plant based. Bessy brings in homemade “vegan” snacks and desserts routinely. I’ve tried them every time she brings them. However, when I’m vegan, I don’t want to take a chance that there are animal or dairy based ingredients in what I eat. How do I opt out of her food without implying I think she’s not a real vegan? Just for clarification I’m connected to Bessy and other staff on social media where the vegan challenge is discussed openly so I can’t pretend I’m not doing it.

The easiest option is to just not take the food she brings in and don’t say anything about it. But if she asks, can you say, “I’m being really strict about seeing the ingredients on everything I eat this month”?

Of course, that won’t work as well if she sees that you’re eating treats other people bring in. Ideally it would be nice if you were able to just say, “Oh, I’m being super strict and I know you’re sometimes more flexible about ingredients” — but that’s the kind of thing some people get weird and defensive about, so I wouldn’t say it unless you know she won’t.

3. Taking another job with a boundary-challenged ex-manager

Last year, I relocated to a different state, leaving a job that paid extremely well and gave me tons of opportunity for growth. While I enjoyed the paycheck, my employer had some serious boundary issues, and I struggled to maintain work/life balance. The issues stemmed primarily from the fact that he thought of me as a friend, first and foremost, rather than his employee, and would do things like text me all the time about work (and non-work) related things all hours of the day. It’s hard to get into specifics, because our whole relationship was a boundary issue in itself. I was a highly valued employee, and the company really tried to get me to stay.

I enjoy my new job, but opportunities for growth (especially in terms of pay) are somewhat limited, and the culture here isn’t all that healthy. Overall, though, I don’t have any major complaints.

My previous employer and I have kept in touch, and I now have an offer in front of me to work for the company remotely. The pay is significantly better than my current employer, and I’ll have more flexibility in terms of time off and scheduling.

Part of me thinks that working remotely will alleviate some of the boundary issues I experienced previously, but another part thinks I’m crazy for even considering it. I wish income wasn’t such a big factor, but I’m the breadwinner, and it is a significant factor in weighing the decision. Do you think it’s possible to establish boundaries with a boss when you previously didn’t do a good job of that?

I’d be very, very skeptical that it can be pulled off, especially about a relationship that you call “a boundary issue in itself” and especially with a manager who thinks of you as a friend more than an employee.’

In theory, you could try having a very candid talk about what the issues were last time and what you’d need to be different thing time … but even then I’d be skeptical. If you’ve seen this person be extraordinarily self-aware and able to make major changes in response to feedback, then maybe. But I’d go into this assuming that there’s a good chance the boundaries issues will come back up, and figure out how willing you are to deal with that if they do.

4. My coworker keeps commenting that I work all the time

I’m a manager at a Fortune 500 health care company. I work a flexible schedule of 9 hour days (with a required 30 minute lunch break) so I can have a half day off every other Friday. I’m the only employee in my smaller satellite office that has a flexible schedule, as far as I’m aware.

I get into the office by 7:45am and leave by 4:45pm most days. A new employee recently started at my office, and she sits near me even though we work in different departments. She works an 8 hour day, getting into the office after I’m already here and leaving before I do.

She has recently started making comments to me about how I must live in the office because I’m always here, I guess as a way to make some small talk? I told her I leave before 5 so I’m not at the office late, but she has continued to make these comments on a daily basis. I’m the only one in my area she makes these comments to, even though others are here before her. This morning, she made a comment to the tune of, “Hey, at least you had a change of clothes for today!” I gave her a half hearted smile and shrug and went back to my work because I didn’t really know how else to respond. She seemed miffed that I didn’t reciprocate more.

Should I have reacted differently? I don’t complain or discuss my workload with her, so these comments seem really weird to begin with. Or am I just annoyed by some innocuous comments and I should just laugh and move on?

My bet is that she’s latched on to this as your mutual “thing” — in her mind, this is the small talk you make together and she thinks it’s enjoyable banter for you both, rather than realizing how annoying it is.

If you want to put a stop to it, you can say, “It sounds like you’re really concerned about my schedule. Like I’ve mentioned, I work nine-hour days so I can take a half day every other Friday. There isn’t anything weird about that, so I’m wondering if there’s something you’ve misunderstood.”

If it keeps happening after that, then she’s not someone who picks up on subtleties (although the above isn’t really subtle) and you’ll need to be more direct: “All this talk about my schedule is unnerving. Could we find a different topic?”

Or, sure, you could ignore it. But it sounds annoying, and it’s also not great if one of your employees happens to overhear her and starts thinking you’re working crazy hours and then feels they’re supposed to do the same.

5. Can I ask if there have been changes to a job I turned down that would make me reconsider?

Last August, I applied for a job at a very small nonprofit. I was interviewed three times, including a full day on site to meet the employees and the board. I really fell in love with this organization and I think the job would be a great fit for me personally and professionally. However, they made it clear early on that the salary range was lower than my expectations and current salary – also significantly under market value. Each time it was brought up, I was honest that I was only willing to consider a lower salary in exchange for more flexibility and generous PTO. They made an offer and, unfortunately, indicated that they were firm on only offering two weeks vacation and no option to occasionally work from home – so really no flexibility or extra PTO at all! I turned down the offer and explained that I would need significantly more time off to make up for the reduction in salary and wished them well on their search.

Flash forward to now. The position has just been reposted for the third time. Is it ever appropriate to reach back out to see if they have reconsidered their stance on time off and flexibility? To be clear, if they haven’t I would not be interested in the job, but I’m wondering if seeing the candidate pool and their difficulty in filling the position would have made them soften the hardline stance. To add context, the board and the executive director have all been with the organization a very long time, and the previous person in this role worked there for 15 years, so I think some of the rigidity around time off and working from home was due to being unfamiliar with how the standards for flexible work arrangements have evolved in recent years. I imagine that other candidates are similarly turned off by the combination of low salary with high demands and no flexibility because otherwise this job would be quite desirable in my field and region.

Should I just assume that if they changed their minds, they would have contacted me and leave it alone? Or would it look strange or unprofessional to reach back out to see if they have reconsidered some of their positions?

It won’t look strange or unprofessional to reach back out. That said, it’s not likely to be terribly fruitful — they have the same info you do about what the sticking points were between you last time, and if they were ready to reconsider, they’d likely let you know.

But there’s nothing wrong with saying something like, “I noticed the X position is still open. I know we couldn’t agree on the terms of your offer back in August, but I wanted to reiterate how excited I’d be to do this work if you end up having any flexibility on the salary range or the PTO and remote work. I realize that likely hasn’t changed — but if it ever does, please know I’d love to talk.”