to anyone still here/active, i have rebooted sienna on @legiate <3

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@legiate-a
to anyone still here/active, i have rebooted sienna on @legiate <3

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1BR (2019)
it's so fun seeing you back on sienna!!!!! she's my favorite character you write next to amy (come back to her please, i'm begging you), so i'm glad you're back
hey there! thank you so much â¤ď¸ i also wonât lie, i forget i have an amy blog 99% of the time lmao ~ i kinda made that blog off a whim and it was pretty fun for the short amount of time i was on there; but in the future, maybe iâll come back??? i love amy so much and she kinda lives rent free in my head; iâve just gotta be in the right mindset to write her, just like iâve gotta be with sienna skdjfaka.Â
thank you though, fr ~ this means a lot to me â¤ď¸Â
orionbloodâ:
@legiateâ
If anyone were to ask him  â not that anyone cares enough, they have their own problems to worry about â Ben would not say the thing he hates most about wandering the wasteland is the dry, arid days. In fact, the thing he hates are the nights, where the temperature drops so rapidly that he immediately misses the warmth of the sun beating down on his cheeks. Where the day offers visibility, the nights cloak everything in a darkness that gives creatures of the wasteland the opportunity to hunt. Ben has always been clever enough to find shelter by nightfall and this particular night is no different.  The fire that had been burning brightly earlier has now dwindled to burning embers, barely lighting up the room as he lays on his back, staring up into the darkness at nothing in particular. Sleep is a rare thing for him, always on high alert and never really able to let himself rest. Which he is thankful for as he hears a rustling noise, joined by what he swears are footsteps approaching. Slowly enough to not draw attention to himself, heâs reaching out for his pistol tucked away by his side and without realising, Ben holds his breath. When the footsteps stop, he draws his head up to peek across the room of the derelict house he has holed himself up in for the night. While hoping he still has the element of surprise, Ben jumps to his feet with almost complete silence and raises his gun in the strangerâs direction, clicking off the safety. âIt ainât right touchinâ what ainât yours. Put it down and nobody has to get hurt.âÂ
đ¸đ˝ đđˇđ´ đłđ°đđş, đđˇđ´ đ˛đđ´đ°đđđđ´đ đ˛đđ°đđť đžđđ đžđľ đđˇđ´ đđžđžđłđđžđđşđ.   they hunt for their prey,  awaiting for the proper moment to strike their meal.   sheâd spotted the flames earlier in the night,  waiting  &  watching from a distance,  patiently waiting for the time to wander from the sand dune sheâd been holed up by.   the moon rose,  the sun sinking under the horizon  â  time moved quick in the mojave.   sheâd occupied her time by cleaning her gun,  twirling it once she was done,  anything to pass the time awaiting for the spotlight to land upon her;  she always found ways to keep herself entertained.   when the moon was fully lit  &  risen the top of the stygian sky,  she made her move.
no time was wasted as she made her way into the abandoned house,  a golden penumbra casted across the living room.   a ruined couch  &  ripped floral wallpaper enveloped her  â  centuries ago,  this offered solace to whomever the owner was;  it made her gag,  wanting to gore the entire place  &  leave it in an inferno.   (it wasnât out of the picture yet either.)   every step is taken softly,  watching every movement she made with her boots;  stealth  &  luck had never been her strong suit.   a glance is taken in every available room,  anything looking of importance getting a quick survey  &  stash in the backpack residing on her back.    the only room left was the bedroom  â  what was once a beacon of light through a window had been dwindled down to darkness,  a sign of slumber.    the door opens quietly,  her head taking a quick peek in as she spots him.   whoever had claimed the house for the evening  â  the standard go fuck yourself to anyone else roaming throughout the wasteland in the night.
she walks in,  an attempt to make her footsteps minuscule failing as she spots an end table.   on top,  a bottle of jet resides,  fingers move to pick it up.   within seconds,  she hears the safety of a gun click  &  words entering her ears.    fuck.   her head  &  body cranes around,  her grasp remaining around the bottle,  her gaze meeting the maleâs gaze.
â   thatâs cute.   yaâ know,  yaâ probably shouldnât leave yer shit out for everybody to see.   â   lips flicker upwards in a shit-eating grin,  brows wiggling.   calloused digits raise the ampule,  waving it in the air momentarily before tossing it back on the table.    â   got any to spare?   not gonnaâ leave a girl hanginâ,  right?   â   a pause,  head leveling itself,  the grin still playing itself across her features.  Â
â   i can pay.   in one way or another.   â
@androttenââ   â   stop guilt tripping me, bitch.
đ đ¸đđđżđ´đđ°đđ¸đ đ´ đ°đđđ°đ˛đşđ đ°đđ´ đžđđđˇđłđžđ.   her tongue is similar to the way a cobra slithers,  spewing venom with every bite taken.    she gorges herself,  filling her stomach until it swells,  molding its contents into a cradle of bones  &  broken hearts.    thereâs a graveyard in front of her teeth,  every tombstone a victim of her path.   (he is no exception.   he will become one within due time.)    when his words fill her ears,  an orchestra of minacious laughter spill from her lips.   her foot tucks itself into the sand theyâre currently trekking in,  body halting itself directly in front of him.   a brow is arched,  head leveling with his as she gazes at him;  a hunter surveying its prey,  looking for the best place to sink her teeth  &  yank until he comes crumbling down into her arms.    thereâs a fire inside her belly,  a lion yawning  &  stretching,  awaiting for the proper moment to strike.    đ¸đđ đđžđ°đ đ¸đ˝đđ¸đłđ´ đˇđ´đ đˇđ´đ°đł đ¸đ˝đłđ¸đ˛đ°đđ´đ đđˇđ´ đđ¸đźđ´ đ¸đ đ˝đžđ.
â   guilt tripping yaâ,  huh?   â    thereâs a trace of curiousness,  hands moving to ghost themselves along his chest.   this is their malison,  a companionship of agony  &  maltreat.   â   yaâ do all the work for me,  ugly.   never met such a little  bitch like yaâ before;  yaâ make it easy to do.   man up.   â

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FILE CORRUPTED.     please contact administrator.Â
GINGER SNAPS 2000, dir. John Fawcett
*Â Â Â SCREAMÂ Â Â FILM Â Â FRANCHISE Â Â PROMPTS Â .
SCREAMÂ Â :
â Would you settle for a PG-13 relationship? â
â Iâm sorry if my traumatized life is an inconvenience to your perfect existence. â
â You sick fucks. Youâve seen one too many movies! â
â Are you alone in the house? â
â Weâre gonna play a little game. â
â My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me! â
â When do we see breasts? I wanna see Jamie Leeâs breasts. â
â You cut me too deep. I think Iâm dying here, man. â
â You take a knife and you slit âem from groin to sternum. â
â I will totally protect you. Yo, I am so buff, I got you covered, girl. â
â We ask you questions and if you get one wrong, boo-gah, you die. â
â What do I have to do to prove to you that Iâm not a killer? â
â We already played that game, remember? â
â I mean did Norman Bates have a motive?  Donât think so! â
â See, itâs a lot scarier when thereâs no motive. â
â Oh, you wanna play psycho killer? â
â Oh, please donât kill me, Mr. Ghostface. Â I wanna be in the sequel! â
â Well, youâre not going to be alone any more, right? â
â Thereâs always some stupid bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend. â
â I never thought Iâd be so happy to be a virgin. â
â Whatâs your favorite scary movie? Â What comes to mind? â
â You hang up on me again and Iâll gut you like a fish, you understand? â
â Tell me something. Â Did you really put her liver in the mailbox? Â â
â This is the moment when the supposedly dead killer comes back to life, for one last scare. â
SCREAMÂ Â 2Â Â : Â Â
â Iâm not interrupting anything, am I? Â â
â Have you ever felt a knife cut through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath? â
â You should really deal with your trust issues. â
â This is just the kind of guy youâd love to bring home to mom⌠if⌠you had⌠a mom. â
â I was just reading in your book about your last cameraman, the guy got gutted. â
â First of all: he wasnât gutted. I made it up. His throat was slashed. â
â You know, you must be getting quite a lot of flak on that, right? â
â Your flattering remarks are both desperate and obvious. â
â Well, I was hoping I might get just a few words with you. â
â Tell us everything thatâs happened, looking back on the last two years? â
â Whoa, Hey, hey, hey hey, Deep breaths, Lot of deep breaths. â
â Why do you always answer a question with a question? â
â Yeah, and Iâm impatient. Look, do you want to leave a message for someone? â
â So, why donât you show your face, you fucking coward? â
â The killer is trying to finish what was started. â
â If the killer is following a pattern, maybe we can figure out whoâs next. â
â So what do you wanna do, bonehead? Sit here, wait and see who drops next? â
â Donât you know history repeats itself? Hm? â
â I thought I was gonna be up there until opening night. â
â So, uh⌠whatâs your favorite scary movie? â
â Is that the best you can do? Â â
â âDrink with your brain.â Thatâs our motto. â
â That shit only calls you when heâs drunk. Donât go over there. â
â No matter how hard you try, youâll never be the hero and youâll never, ever get the girl. â
SCREAMÂ Â 3Â Â :
â Not only did they-did they kill the film, but they killed my cast.. â
â Variety called me a âpariahâ. I donât even know what a âpariahâ is. â
â Oh, itâs hard being friends with you, [Name]. â
â When youâre friends with [Name], you die. â
â Itâs time you came to terms with me and with mother! â
â I had no idea they were going to make a film of their own. Â â
â Fucking kill me! You canât fucking kill me! â
â So, why donât you tell me, who you are? â
â Answer right, your girlfriend lives. â
â Iâm sorry Iâm running late. Iâm still on the 405. Iâm about 10 minutes away. â
â Uh, look, since I got you on the phone, letâs talk about your character, okay? â
â See? I donât understand why I have to start the scene in the shower. â
â When itâs a threat, youâll know it. â
â The killer is in the house and heâs upstairs! â
â The question isnât who I am. The question is: Whoâs with me? â
â Now, do you have somewhere we can be⌠alone? â
â If you do one thing to attract attention to yourself, one thing, Iâll kill them both. â
â I donât want them. I want you. Itâs simple. You show yourself, they survive. â
â Iâll call you when youâre on your way. â
â How do I know theyâre not dead already? â
â Whatâs the matter? What are you staring at? â
â Youâre gonna pay for the life you stole from me, [Name]. â
â You did it all. You did it! You call them all, even your closest⌠friends. â
â How do you know youâre not hearing things? How do you know Iâm not someone in your head? â
SCREAMÂ Â 4Â Â :
â You forgot the first rule of remakes: âDonât fuck with the originalâ. â
â Oh, my God, I love it. Iâve seen it five times and still gets me every time. â
â Am I, or did whoever make it just underthink it? â
â Donât we hear enough of this story every year? â
â Iâm not trying to scare you.. â
â This is the last person youâre ever gonna see alive. Â â
â Youâre in my movie, you got a fun part, so donât blow it. â
â People live and people die, and youâd better start running! â
â And I like him - To tease, to torment, to make him squirm! â
â Sorry about that. Just⌠making around before taking off. â
â Itâs okay. I mean, you had⌠a lot of stuff⌠going on back then. â
â I think I have just enough time to slice someone open! â
â You do know there are cops all over the house? â
â You think this is all about you? You think youâre still the star? â
â Youâve done very well by all this bloodshed, havenât you? â
â Well, how about the town you left behind? â
â Iâm gonna slit your eyelids in half so you donât blink when I stab you in the face. â
â But if you wanna be in the hospital, Iâd be happy to put you there - in the morgue! â
â Itâs kind of the one component the killer is missing. â
â You film your entire high school experience, and, what, post it on the 'net? â
â Well, if you wanna be the new, new version, the killer should be filming the murders. â
â Working on less of a Shrequel and more of a Screamake. â
â Ah, friends count, but itâs the family ties that cut deep. Am I right? â
â The ones you care about most. And whatâs closer than family? The bond of blood. â
random locations in fallout: new vegas 1/? // hdden valley
â  real creep show, huh?  â @yngai
the room is brown but pale,  limned in golden casing,  the signature of the mojave.  underneath the soot rotting the walls,  you can see a faint wallpaper beginning to tear itself off.  bones  &  blood splatters decorate the concrete floors  ;  itâs the gasoline that keeps the wasteland running  â  death,  torture,  &  volatile individuals.  a shallow yet operational way of life.  rays of sunlight cascade through battered hung curtains,  dust particles floating through the air.  years ago,  your skin wouldâve prickled at this sight,  chills running themselves down the gristle of your spin.  nowadays,  your skin is filthy,  varnished in the blood of so many others youâve encountered over your travels  â  if you hadnât washed your body,  youâre sure you wouldnât be able to decipher whose blood was whose.  this world is predictably grim,  synonymous to the expression thatâs claimed its residence across your features,  so yeah  â  this was a real fucking creep show.
you pull your hunting rifle off your back,  sinking the butt of it against your shoulder before you step further inside the house.  â  tell me âbout it.  â  you almost feel bad for the poor bastards.  teeth sink themselves into your bottom lip as you kneel,  fingers ghosting themselves over the decaying bones of those from the old world.  if these walls could talk,  you wonder how they would describe the bombs that sent the world into a frenzy,  leaving it in an inferno of flames.  would they tell you about the screams from their sun - cracked lips,  or the way the blasts had engulfed these people.  or maybe,  they hadnât been here as long as you thought  â  maybe you were completely off base.  you swallow thickly,  nostrils flaring as you exhale deeply,  urgency beginning to boil rapidly throughout your veins.
head twisting backwards,  your eyes flicker back onto your new companion,  gesturing towards the back of the abandoned house.  â  mind checkinâ back there?  sometimes thereâs hidden shit  â  meds,  guns,  all sorts of shit.  â  youâre cautious  &  wary,  with the sense youâre also being tested.  if youâre testing her,  surely sheâs testing you back.   â  iâll go check the kitchen  &  double check out here.   â

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Saya: Perspective in Love (Seiji Izumi, 1986)
â  iâm sorry i couldnât protect you in this life.  â @alabastrined  /  clarke.
the earth is dying.  all tendon,  no tender  â  the acid rain has fallen more than once,  breaking its way through skin into a form of genocide.  god will never grow out of bordering on the bite between wrath  &  mercy  ;  heâs only gotten worse since those have fallen from the sky.  theyâve filled the gap this world had,  dangling an olive branch between the pathway of war versus harmony.  you couldâve cared less about either option,  until all had broken in the world.  the heda was dead,  the kongeda was falling apart,  a new sadgeda was on the horizon.  like a shawl,  the desert had always enfolded you,  now the mild light of a dull  &  mourning city does.  polis.  here you were,  nearly extinct,  laughing in the face of the saboteur.  â  cut the shit,  kid.  i can see right through it.  â  never bullshit a bullshitter.  her with flaxen hair,  the one as a concept should be wanheda,  the commander of death.  gore,  wrath,  &  slaughter to her name  â  sheâs just a child stuffed into a pyrrhic vindicated body.  it was laughable.
your jaw unhinges,  head tilting itself to the side.  a girl made of splinters pretending to be as hard as shrapnel,  a catacomb chasing after her with every footstep.  had circumstances been different,  you may have even felt apologetic for her.  the universe is weighed upon her shoulders,  anarchy beginning to wretch across the ruins of an old world.  you stand your ground,  a twitch of your lips metamorphosing into a coy smirk.  â  yaâ donât care if i live or die.  yaâ only care âbout yer people.  â  can you blame her?  no.  somewhere,  beneath your monstrous eyes,  you feel a profound peace.  maybe youâre coming to terms with your death sentence.  thatâs what this is,  your existence on earth  â  a righteous death sentence.  Â
â  yaâ know,  i never liked heda leksa.  connecting all of us into some type of fuckinâ family,  it felt wrong.  i still find myself wonderinâ what she wouldâa thought âbout all of this,  though.  what she wouldâa done differently.  she trusted yâall,  wantinâ to bring yâall into the kongeda.  â  you smile,  voice rasping with every departing word.   â  i just wonder what she would think âbout all of this.   â
roseguidedâ.
@legiate ASKED ,  â đ° đđđ đ đđđ đđđđđ đđ đđđ đđđđđđđđđđđđ đđđ. â
      đđđđ đđđđđđ đđ , đđđđđđ đđđ đđđđ đđđđđđđđđđ đđđ đđđđđ đđđđđ đđđđđđđđ đđđđđ đđ đ đđđ.   fingers hold wine glass close to his nose , a subtle sniff taken before a drink follows.  the others words from his right cause hannibalâs brows to quirk after the glass is sat down.  a moment is taken to consider her words , a slight grin pressing against his lips.  eyes train on the  âpork loinâ heâd prepared for them that night , knife cutting into it before fork stabs meat to bring it close to his mouth before he đđđžđżđ   arm rests above the dinner table , head && eyes now turning to look at sienna for the first time since her statement.    ;     â  many people do.  â   he mused ,   â  people are much easier to manipulate && deceive when i look the way i do. they see my profession, my success , && my manners with ease. it makes them more comforted in thinking iâm not a threat to them.  â   clearly that was a lie , one of the biggest ,  because of what he does . . what he eats is what most would consider  đđđđđ.   â  i canât assume itâs the same for you , sienna?  â   a genuine question , but a light stab at her.   â  people like us donât come along very often. i might not . . particularly like you at times , but itâs nice to have someone with similar interest with whom i can . . share our acquired taste in food.  â   now , once heâs done speaking , the delicately cooked slice of  âporkâ is brought into his mouth.  eyes close to savor the tasteâall of the flavors clashing together so elegantly like he can almost taste the exact diet of his prey. they were never easy to catch , but hannibal made do without much hassleâhe enjoyed the hunt , but he enjoyed savoring them far more.   â  those who underestimate me do not far very well.  â    the food on their plate evidence enough !
the fork in your grasp is brought down to the meat resting on your plate,  piercing through it as itâs brought inside your mouth.  tender  &  juicy,  just the way it should be.  as you chew,  you canât help but scoff at his words,  painted nails fumbling with the white napkin set on your lap.  â  just âcause i ainât a therapist doesnât mean i ainât successful.  dick.   â  the final word is mumbled under your breath,  nostrils flaring as the napkin is raised up to your mouth,  wiping any stray juice or pieces.  if you could,  you would rush over your purse  &  grab the revolver resting at the bottom,  raise it,  &  squeeze the trigger as a bullet fired through the center of his forehead.  he annoys you enough  ;  the constant snide comments,  the pretentious attitude  â  were you much better,  though?  you would end it all,  because this was torturous sometimes.   tonight was a torturous evening.  tossing the napkin hastily back onto your lap,  you continue to pick at your food,  continuing to take bite after bite.  whether you would admit it or not,  while you despised hannibal,  you admired his art.  this was art,  after all.  it took skill to do what he did  ;  it took even more skill to hide it.  to wear the mask of a perfect civilian,  lurking in the shadows  &  awaiting for the right moment to strike his prey.  you admired it  â  you craved for the skillset he held.  you were within arms reach of his level,  but not quite there yet.  [maybe one day.]  you take a break from eating your food, head craning in his direction as hickory hues roll,  your throat clearing itself.   â   yeah,  i can only imagine.  â   underestimating hannibal was laughable.  if they only knew the monster hiding underneath the collected exterior  â  they could say the exact same for you.   slender digits reach to wrap themselves around the neck of your wine glass,  gently swirling it against the tabletop,  gaze remaining stilled on him.   â   dinnerâs great,  by the way.  yaâ outdid yerself again.  â
painmadeâ.
JESSE LEADS THE STRANGER a little deeper into the house, past a living room with a red Navajo rug centered between two wooden benches that look handmade, but itâs hard to tell from a distance. The fireplace in the living room flickers softly, dying down, and Jesse throws two more logs in to compensate. Past the living room is the kitchen with a round wooden table big enough for four people, but only set for two.Â
   âMake yourself at home.âÂ
He opens a cabinet and gets out two mugs, pouring them both a cup and bringing them to the table, leaving and returning again with cream and sugar. He sits across from the stranger, and suddenly his scars seem to come alive in the warm firelight, moving of their own volition, like they have a mind of their own. A simple trick of the light, but it makes him look almost sinister in a way, and almost docile in another.Â
   âSo. What did you need to talk to me about?âÂ
He already knows, or, at least, he can make a pretty good guess; his mind is racing behind his calm exterior, his palms sweating, his heart racing. Heâs trying to think of an excuse. A dead twin? No birth certificate on file. A mistake? Genes donât make mistakes.Â
That means now he has a witness. He remembers something Mike had told him long ago, before theyâd robbed a train.Â
There are two kinds of heists: those who get away with it, and those who leave witnesses.
   âSounds kinda important.â
you follow him throughout the house  &  into the kitchen,  hues glancing around as you walk.  the house is nice,  bearing a slight resemblance to your childhood home back in arizona.  once you reach the table,  your purse is set on the seat besides you,  hands resting themselves against the wooden top as you sit down.  â  yaâ got a nice home.  â  itâs your way of getting the small talk out of the way as he pours your coffee into a mug.  a quick thank you is mumbled as he brings it to the table,  hands clasping around the cup,  the rim brought to your lips.
once heâs sat across from you,  you suppose this is the moment your heart should begin thumping  ;  itâs the moment youâve been dreading  &  yet,  you still feel nothing but perplexity.  your calm exterior has become a permanent fixture,  features remaining stilled as you place the mug back on the table,  gaze directed onto him.  your posture straightens in the chair,  a deep breath being inhaled through your nostrils. Â
â  i ainât gonnaâ sugar coat this.  that lab up in anchorage,  the one you had a surgery at?  they couldnât find yer name in their database with yer DNA  â  it makes sense âcause you donât live there,  so they sent it back to us  ;  somehow,  i managed to get my hands on it.  i couldnât find anything âbout yaâ at our database,  though.  i ended up runninâ it in the national database  â  jacob mckinley didnât pop up as a match,  some guy named  jesse pinkman did.  â
when the words depart from your mouth,  you decide to no longer sit upright,  your back beginning to lean itself against the back of the chair.  your heartbeat remains stable as your arms move to cross themselves tightly over your chest.  â  i was hopinâ to find something indicating yaâ mightâa changed yaâ name,  maybe something funky in the system,  maybe even a lab tech not doing their job right?  well,  i didnât find shit,  so iâm here now.  â  your lips are now pressed together,  brows raising as your shoulders are raised in a complacent shrug.
â  yaâ mind clearinâ this up for me?   â

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you are no longer a slave, bound and tortured, forced to cook heisenbergâs meth at the end of a chain like an animal. you are no longer JESSE PINKMAN. you leave him behind to die in that godless prison with mr. white. youâre going to miss him, but youâll never see him again.
                         YOUâRE FREE NOW.
                            ( promo by @seaspsds. )
i know you always voice your dislike for sienna, but if you had to discuss some of your favorite parts about her, what would they be?
this made me laugh because am i really that obvious with hating my own oc? lmfaooo if i am, wow, thatâs probably not a great look but oh well ~ sienna deserves it.Â
honestly, the first thought that came to my mind was her bravery. sienna, as an individual, is extremely brave whether it comes to actions or just speaking her mind. she does actions first and thinks about them later. she hardly ever hesitates either, which i find quite sexy of her. other than actions though, sheâs very opinionated and headstrong with her beliefs/thoughts. she doesnât back down when she believes sheâs in the right, which gets her into a lot of disagreements + bad situations. (does that mean sheâs always in the right? absolutely not. more often than not, sheâs in the wrong.) but sheâll believe sheâs right until proven otherwise, and if she was wrong, if youâre lucky and arenât a dumbass ~ you might just get an apology from her.Â
on the more sinister aspect of her character, i love her manipulation skills. sheâs not very charismatic by any means, but sheâs good at wearing masks/facades. she can wear the mask of whoever she needs to be in that moment ~ whether itâs the courier, the raider, the murderer, the big bad, or even the victim if need be. (or if weâre discussing modern verses, she can be the doctor, the civilian, the woman thatâll have you killed, etc etc.) sheâs not manipulative in the way of getting information, because frankly, sheâs not good at that. sheâs too blunt to be manipulative to gain information. but sheâs manipulative in regards to her image. sheâs an actress, she plays the part of whoever she needs to be, and she does it well. the mask will come off when she wants it to come off, not when anyone else decides.Â
i know this is short, because it kinda has to be because i just... hate sienna lmao. i canât be all âuwu i love this about herâ because i genuinely hate her. thank you for sending this in though, it was kinda nice to think about why i do like sienna in some regards.