#apply for other jobs so that I can find a full time job again

[obsessedobsesser]

If you know someone who is in the job search market, give them a hug.

It’s so hard right now.

You can have the experience, education, proper resume and still either get ghosted, rejected, or led on.

It’s all a game right now.

[yanderefarm]

Can I request Emil catching one of his maids flirting with us

yandere king emil

cw;; violence, stalking, yandere stuff, manipulation

im gonna post this bc i don't think its bad per-say but i don't know if it fits exactly what you wanted. if you're not satisfied feel free to send your request again!!

i don't really imagine this as the reader being oblivious but more like looking past all the obvious red flags because they thought they had a friend who could understand them better than the other people around them including emil.

also im a whore for rofan manhwa bullshit. please check off "cartoonishly evil maid/noble woman minor love rival" on your bingo cards.

usually emil wouldn't feel threatened by the lower class, obviously you wouldn't be interested in them. except you are.

he notices it first when she comes into your shared bedroom in the morning. she's not the usual maid and the way she goes about pouring the morning tea is atrocious, probably because her eyes are glued to your half dressed body. you smile at her and thank her even though she spilled some of your tea with her gawking. when emil mentions dismissing her for her unacceptable behavior you just brush it off saying she was just nervous.

apparently that day the normal maid was sick. and she's still sick a week later. you're currently in the garden trying your hand at some embroidery but you're not very good at it. emil watches from his office window as that maid comes up and offers to help you. you are too excited to accept her help, can't you see she just wants something from you? he finds himself hoping she accidentally pricks you with the needle so he can have a good excuse to kill her. she didn't.

then there's the bath incident. usually he likes taking baths together but you wanted to be alone. that would be fine if he hadn't just watched that annoying maid slip into the bath room. he finds himself following her. the bath room is full of steam as you soak in the hot water making it hard for emil to see anything exactly. but he'd recognize your relaxed form anywhere. the maid steps through the thick steam and asks if you want her to apply some new oils to your hair. its something she found at a market and its supposed to be relaxing lavender. its technically her job to do these tasks so emil can only watch in frustrated silence as she gets to run her fingers through your hair. you smell like her for the rest of the night and god it makes him angry.

every time he sees you with her his stomach twists in anger. he can't be angry with you, you're a kind person and you've proven it time and time again. but this maid. she doesn't deserve your kindness, she doesn't deserve to gently touch your arm, she doesn't deserve to laugh with you. he's asked you what you think of her and you tell him it's so nice to have a friend and how apparently she was born in your home kingdom before moving here. it makes him want to kill her even more. but he holds back because you're just so happy.

finally she goes too far. you're outside excitedly talking to her about a new book you read. you showed him that one too but he didn't share your excitement for the story. not like she was. he wanted to run over there, to run her through with his sword. but he couldn't stop it. he watched helplessly as she touched your arm again and with a blushing face she shyly confessed her feelings. he watched her try to kiss you. he watched the way your face changed from shock to horror. your eyes darted around until they landed on him, you always knew he was nearby if you needed him.

apparently she'd lied about being from your home country to get closer to you. apparently she'd learned your native tongue at another job and used it to manipulate you. apparently she heard a rumor that you would take concubines and she saw it as her chance to climb the ranks. emil was standing behind her, his blade through her chest and his eyes dark with anger. you stood there with tears in your eyes looking at him with so much hurt.

emil isn't lenient with maids that flirt with you anymore. they get a warning from the head maid and if they continue the behavior then emil reserves the right to punish as he sees fit. its not always violent, sometimes he just sentences them to jail for 10 years.

[heart4gyu]

wet dreamz || sim jaeyun x reader

note: 18+ mdni!! y’all know the song lol changed it up a lil for the story tho :P this turned out longer than i expected and maybe needs a part two (??? lmk) also this is my first time writing full smut so i hope it’s not too bad and that y’all enjoy anyway okayy gn :3 not proofread sorry!! | pt.2 here |

this had honestly never happened to jake before; waking up in his bed, heart racing, covered in sweat, and pants soaked.

he just couldn’t help it though.

you hadn’t even noticed him before you got partnered up for a project. but him? oh, his eyes were on you the second you walked through that door on the first day of class.

how pretty you looked laughing with your friends. the sweet smell of your perfume as you walked past. the way you always got the answers right when you got called on. it started off so innocent, just a little campus crush.

after you became partners, everything changed though. the project went perfectly, of course, with both of you acing the class it was easy. but after it was over, you didn’t go back to sitting with your friends like jake thought you would. you stayed there, right next to him, every day.

you became friends. you exchanged phone numbers and you hung out quite often in the library or student center. the more time you spent together, the more jake’s want for you grew.

jake just didn’t understand how you could be so effortlessly perfect for him though.

you, on the other hand, knew exactly what you were doing. you’d observed jake long enough to know that he’s probably never made it past second base with a girl.

the way he’d turn red when you’d scoot over touching your thighs to his. the way his mouth went dry when you’d lean over his desk in a very low cut shirt. even the way he’d stare at your lips after you applied your lip gloss.

all the things you purposefully did to get his attention. because obviously how could you not go after him, he was just your type. sweet, nerdy guy who was also extremely hot.

and so far, you were doing an excellent job at it. but you were getting a little impatient with him, so you decided to tell him about this loser guy who took you out the other day. and fuck it, you decided to slip it into the conversation that he couldn’t even make you finish.

you smiled when the text bubbles appeared and disappeared over and over again. how cute.

jakeyjakey: don’t let someone like that take you out again.

you: ikr. need to find someone who can get the job done…

jakeyjakey: if you gave me the chance y/n, i’d show you a great time.

it definitely wasn’t expected but who were you to complain when this is exactly what you wanted. so you let him know that your roommate would be gone visiting family this weekend & that maybe he should come over…

so he went to bed that night, thinking about the weekend coming up. thinking about you.

and he had a sweet, sweet dream. it was so realistic too. the way your pillows smelled like you as he laid back on them with you on his lap. how soft your thighs were as his fingers grazed over them. your eyes darker than he’s ever seen them, and your voice so quiet he could barely hear it over his heartbeat.

he felt the coil in his stomach tighten the second your lips were on his. you tasted like strawberries (or at least that’s what he thought you’d taste like because of your pink gloss).

you held his face gently as you kissed him. and your tongue slipped inside his mouth so easily when he let out a deep moan for you. his eyes squeezed shut as he felt you grind down on him. your pace speeding up the longer his lips were on yours.

“jake,” you panted, he didn’t know he could want to hear your voice more but you proved him wrong with the way you sounded right now. “can you touch me?”

he could’ve came right then but he took a deep breath to compose himself and nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. he dragged his hands up your thighs and under your skirt, stopping at your ass to give it a squeeze to which you let out a whine.

giving his confidence a boost, he kept going up with one of his hands, pressing down on your lower back to close the small distance between your bodies and grinding up into you.

he broke the kiss to look down between your bodies and saw your hands working on unbuttoning his pants. he didn’t know how his breathing could become even more ragged but it did. especially so when he felt your cold hands pull his cock out of his pants, and he had to look away. he squeezed his eyes shut trying to focus but how could he with your delicate hands stroking him so perfectly.

“jakey, you said you’d show me a good time,” you said, looking up at him with those irresistible eyes of yours. fuck, fuck was all jake could think as he rolled you over, positioning himself between your legs.

“i know i did, angel,” he whispered by your ear, placing a kiss right below it. he reached under your skirt, then pulled your underwear all the way down your legs. “i’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

he lined himself up quickly, not wanting to look like he’d never done this before. then he leaned down for a quick peck making you smile into the kiss and hearing that pretty little laugh he loves to hear. now he could push in gently and it was easier than he thought it’d be.

there was still resistance though because you were tight. so tight he had to drop his head down beside you and just breathe for a second. he could honestly just stay here forever, his cock buried so deep in you. he loved the feeling more than he expected.

you placed a hand on the nape of his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, your other hand soothing his arm that supported his weight above you. and he wanted this you always, every day, never wanted to hear you talk about another man again.

so he started thrusting into you, slow but hard thrusts. with you squeezing his arm, pulling on his hair, and moaning out his name, he was a goner for sure. “yes, that’s what i wanna hear,” he said, lips on yours as he kissed you again.

he kissed on your neck, and brought his hand down to rub circles on your clit just like in the videos he studied for you. he never heard your voice this loud before, couldn’t believe the way you looked with your head thrown back as you came around him.

he was close now too, knew his thrusts were getting sloppier. but you wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. “god, you’re so good for me,” he whined.

“i’m so close,” he said, kissing you again as you put your arms around his neck. then he heard you whisper something that he didn’t quite catch, he leaned in closer so you could repeat it.

“babe, please come in me,” you whispered. and that’s all it took for him to come undone, a moaning mess as he filled you up. he was panting at this point, trying to regulate his breathing.

and unfortunately that’s exactly how he woke up. in his own bed, heart racing, covered in sweat, and pants soaked. only one thing, or more specifically, person on his mind.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Wing Grooming

lucifer x gn reader

warnings: i’ve written before but i don’t do it often so be aware, written on mobile, no mention of skin colour/bodytype/gender/hair type, no use of Y/N, slightly sexual but no real smut, cursing.

i love lucifer and i love the wings shtick <3 also i’ve worked with birds so im applying my knowledge of them here teehee

lemme know whatcha think this is only the second time homegirls written an xreader. also writing on tumblr sucks it deleted my shii so many times and i had to keep rewriting paragraphs

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔗𝔴𝔬 :)

—

Lucifer anxiously paced around his room in the hotel, unable to relax due to his wings, they were itchy. Normally he used various different objects to break the casting of new feathers, and remove those pesty pin feathers. He’s been so busy at the hotel recently, he completely neglected his feathers causing some unfortunate issues with his malt. After all he didn’t have only two he had a whole six, and it wasn’t easy to take care of all at once. In all honesty, Lucifer would rather cut them off before asking for assistance with preening them. Tossing his hat to the side his wings popped out unwillingly loose feathers flying around him. Curling the first set in front of him, he picked through to find the cause of the itch and discomfort. Chills ran up his back as his fingers gently searched through, they were sensitive from lack of care not to mention preening never failed to give him goose bumps. A knock sounded from his door making him jump, his wings puffing out around him. “Uh, ah, one moment.” He shouted in a sing songy voice, jumping to his feet from where he sat he hurried over eager to get back to preening.

Swining the door open you stood on the other side smiling with papers in your grasp. Keeping his wings hidden slightly behind him and the door he greeted you with a charming smile. "Hi luce, Charlie said these belonged to you something to do with the different rings?" Quirking your head to the side you observed the king with curiosity. He was visibly uncomfortable, fidgeting and shifting from side to side. "Are you alright?" He blew air out in a pft sound at you and stood a little straighter. "Just a little feather issues, you know how it can be..." Lucifer trailed looking off to the side trying hard to ignore the stinging itch that shot through one wing.

“Oh can I help in any way, if that’s not strange?” You ask innocently but Lucifer’s mind went immediately to the gutter with the thought of you tracing your hands down his back and his combing through feathers, it made him shiver with delight. Although his blush was evident and his demeanour dropped to a slightly more shy one, you remained waiting patiently for his answer. “It’s- uh, normally, i don’t let anybody touch them. Um, but you can! Of course..” He trailed switching between stretching himself up with confidence and shrinking down again with doubt, regardless of his apprehension he still stood aside opening the door wider for you to enter. “It’s just the preening process is all. Difficult to reach.” Lucifer muttered as you welcome yourself into his room. With a bright smile you reassured him that you would do as he asked and you’d rather help than have him be stuck with that icky discomfort.

Setting the paperwork down on a table, Lucifer closed the door and lingered next to a bench sofa whistling as his wings flapped him at random behind him. Turning to him he looked a little shy still not fully meeting your gaze. Unsure of what exactly to do but you gave him an assuring smile. “I don’t have to do this, I can get Charlie to?”

Lucifer laughed quickly shaking his head. “Ha ha, no that would make things worse actually, you’re much preferred! Just y’know it’s a lot to work on.” Plopping down on the bench he outstretched his wings behind him on full display for you, his heart pounding against his ribs. You felt a zap of emotion shoot through you at the admission that you were wanted by him for this job.

It wasn't a secret Charlie's dad woo'd you the moment he waltzed in the door, but your loyalty was with Charlie and you didn't want to disrespect her by eye fucking her divorced father while he's here to help. Although Charlie seemed pretty enthralled that her father was making an effort to spend time with her friends, even elbowing you and whispering that he seemed to particularly enjoy conversation with you.

After that it was harder to ignore the way you felt for the King, Charlie would constantly drop not so subtle hints that her dad took a liking to you and that caused your mind to wander and fantasize. From there on you got more confidence putting yourself in situations to catch him alone in conversation or help him with different tasks he had to complete. Beginning your work on his wings, you hummed quietly to yourself easily spotting several pin feathers coming in that needed to have the keratin shell taken off. Carefully you split the feathers away and massaged off the shells one by one listening to Lucifers pleasant hms, groans and sighs. He visibly slumped, and his body rested just barely against your thigh as you worked on the very top wing. “These look pretty cluttered hun, have you been struggling to care for them?” You didn’t even notice the pet name slip as you called everyone off handed pet names, but Lucifer did notice and it brought him a warmth he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Sweetly talking to him about his wings without judgement, combing them comfortingly, humming like an angel just to him. It felt as good as when his ex wife was still around caring for his wings. It’d been so long since someone was by his side caring for him like this.

Lucifer never responded properly to your question about upkeep only humming in a trance like state as you worked your way through the top set of wings "You're so good at this, sheesh, I wish you'd do this all the time." You blushed faltering slightly which Lucifer panicked about, tensing and opening his eyes. "Of course i'm only spit balling, heh, it's just so relaxing like a sauna!" Shaking your head you moved down to the last set of feathers not missing the way he shuddered with your touch. "It's alright i don't mind that you say that. It feels nice actually, to help you." Lucifer didn't say anything feeling suddenly heated as ever as if hell wasn't hot enough. The feathers closest to his hips were unsurprisingly the most sensitive and the touches although innocent felt suggestive to him. The King felt dirty for feeling a euphoric sense of pleasure ripple through his bodv and straight to his junk while you unknowly worked through his feathers. “You okay? Did I hurt you?" You asked noticing his breath picking up and his body stiffening. Lucifer grinned and turned to look at you you meeting his gaze and seeing just how dazed he truly was. "I'm just... well,"

It was like his throat closed as he looked back at you crouched down to get at the last row of feathers that were draped along the floor. The king swallowed snapping his head forward again. “Ahem, I’m sensitive, good, sensitive.” He had hoped you understood his insinuations. Which you had. Breathing in deeply you flattened your hand out spreading your fingers and combing through the feathers more methodically from the base of his wings and outward. That cause him to jump up standing straight, you followed in persuit, panicking that you crossed a big line. His wings twitched but he stayed staring forward rigid, you quickly walked around the bench calling to him softly. “Lucifer i am so sorry if i crossed the line, that, that was unacceptable i’m so sorry.” To which Lucifer spun to you, face red, grabbing your shoulders he smiled a somewhat embarrassed smile. “No no, that was completely fine, i just,” Lucifer pulled away tucking his hands away from you, again which was kind of upset you.

“I think if we continue that, type of grooming, I won’t be able to control myself.” Although still shy about his admission his eyes were half lidded and his smile sly. You felt fire explode in your stomach all innocence out the window as your mind settled on one thought. You were gonna bang your friends divorced dad.

[pipwritesoccasionally]

midnight emotions (two little lines pt. 2)

in which your stepson has a bad dream and you feel guilty.

this one has less to do with your pregnancy but it is still relevant!

toji x reader (same stuff from last time applies, technically AFAB because of pregnancy but it's also a world with sorcery so I am not here to stop AMAB people. kept it pretty gender neutral, but let me know if it doesn't seem like it.)

wc: 850

pt. 1 pt.3

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

the darkness floods your eyes as you blink awake for the second time that night. body aching, you roll over, feet fluffing the carpet of you and toji’s bedroom. your arms reach up, exposing your growing stomach to the cold air. 

as you stand, the bed creaks, and you hear your husband groan. 

“doll?” his voice is low from sleep, and you place your hand on his arm. 

“i’m good. i just have to pee.” 

“again? you went two hours ago,” you’d never think that toji could be so whiny, but it sure was a very cute surprise. 

“babe, a whole human is growing next to my bladder. i’m going to be peeing all the time for the next few months,” you chuckle, and you hear him roll over on the bed. 

“fine. see you soon.” 

with that, you begin your walk to the bathroom, able to navigate the dark hallways perfectly after following this routine for weeks. after doing your business, you walk back down the hall, but this time you find that it’s much easier. 

in fact, there’s a light on in one of the bedrooms, which you quickly discern to be megumi’s. you knock, hearing a little “come in” on the other side. 

“megumi? what are you doing up?” you whisper, seeing him sitting up in bed. he furiously rubs his hands with his face, and the sight brings tears to your eyes. 

“i…had a bad dream.” he says, his little voice full of sadness. you move to kneel next to his bed, hoping to reassure him. 

“what happened? you can talk to me about it, if you want. or i can get your dad if you’d prefer.” he shakes his head, but still seems to hesitate. 

“dad’s not going to…leave us, will he?” worry strikes through you. 

“never. what would make you think that?”

“i don’t know, i guess i just wish we could see him more. he’s always pretty busy and only comes home for dinner.” another tear falls down his little face, and you can feel one mirror on your own. curse your hormones. 

“he’s busy, yes, but it’s because he’s trying to provide for you as best as he can. he just wants you to be happy,” megumi nods, but you can see that there’s still something on his mind. 

“it’s just that…when the baby comes, will he still have time for us?” your heart brakes at his statement, guilt shattering you. 

“of course he will. i promise you that he will always have time for you. he can be gruff, but he loves you.” 

“pinky promise?” he holds his little pinky out, and you immediately hook your much larger one around it. 

“pinky promise. now go back to bed. if you’re tired in the morning, let me know and i’ll call you out of school.” he nods, and you walk to the door, turning his light off. 

“sleep tight kiddo.” the door closes with a soft click!, and you immediately head back to your shared bedroom. your face feels wet, and you realize belatedly that you’d been crying. 

the bed is comforting, but you feel your breaths come out shakily. 

“doll? what’s wrong?” you jump, not realizing your husband’s still awake, and scoot in closer. 

“megumi’s worried that you won’t have time for him once the baby comes, and i feel so guilty. i didn’t even think about how this would affect them.” you’re hiccuping now, and his large hand comes to rest on your back. 

“you didn’t do anything wrong, i should be here more for them.” he whispers, and you shake your head. 

“no, you’re just doing what you can to help us.” he sighs, and you place your head on his chest. 

“yeah, but maybe it’s not enough. i’ll try to cut back on how many jobs i take weekly so i can be here more. we make more than enough money between the two of us anyways.” 

you hum, remembering exactly why you fell in love with him all those years ago. he isn’t exactly the most open person, but he does love his kids in his own way. 

“you need to stop being so cute. this isn’t good for my blood pressure,” he snorts, squeezing you lightly. 

“cute, huh? never thought someone would call me cute,” you laugh at him, wrapping your arms around his body. 

“why wouldn’t they? you just ooze cuteness, from your thick biceps and rippling abs-” 

“i’m starting to think you might be in love with me.” you can just hear the grin in his voice, and you move to roll away before one of his strong arms stops you. 

“ah-ah,” he tuts, “need my doll next to me so i can protect her.” 

“you sure you’re not the one in love with me?” his chest is firm as you run your fingers across it. 

“you wish,” he presses a kiss against your temple, and your body heats up. you huff, feigning annoyance, and his hand comes to cup your face. 

“fine. i might be in love with you. just a little bit."

[lexsssu]

Sweet (Totsumoto Yuushi)

TAGS: Yuushi/F!Reader, smut, breeding, impregnation, some plot Ao3 ver.

Iɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ ғɪɴᴅs ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴛᴛᴇʀʟʏ ɪʀʀᴇsɪsᴛɪʙʟᴇ.

Totsumoto Yuushi had been down on his luck ever since the recession had forced his former company to let go of him. Applying to other companies also yielded no results, so he was stuck moving from part-time job to part-time job.

However, it wasn’t all that bad.

Before he’d lost his former job as a salaryman, he’d met cute little you.

Soft, fragrant, and probably the sweetest cinnamon roll he had ever come to meet in his entire life. 

You with your saccharine smiles and genuine warmth and concern for some random older man you’d met (he passed out on the side of a dingy alley, having drowned himself in beer after being forced to do some more unpaid overtime).

You could have simply ignored him back then because he would have woken up some hours later with a hangover and got back home relatively in one piece.

But you didn’t.

Out of the goodness of your heart, you managed to drag him back to your own apartment and had him settled on your sofa-bed. Hell, you even went as far as laying a blanket on him and putting a pillow that was softer and smelled nicer than any pillow he’d ever used beneath his head.

“Good morning. I just made breakfast if you’re feeling hungry,” your melodic voice greeted him as he sat up, somewhat disoriented and wondering where the fuck he’d ended up after passing out last night.

But speaking of breakfast, Yuushi feels his stomach grumbling as the scent of freshly cooked rice, eggs, toast, and bacon permeated around the homey apartment. 

“If it’s not too much trouble…” 

“Please, help yourself. I made more than enough to share!”

And for the first time in a very long time, he finds himself sharing a home-cooked meal with someone. Even if you were virtually strangers, he already feels much closer to you than anyone he’s currently acquainted with.

Yuushi goes home with his stomach full, heart warm, and your number on his contact list.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Contrary to popular belief, he does not sleep with you the next time you two meet up (which was at a popular cafe where he finds himself mesmerized at the sheer happiness you exuded just from tasting the pastries and one of those creamy, fruity drinks). 

He does his best to ignore the way the thick, white cream decorates your lips before you lick it off with your pink tongue.

Nor does Yuushi sleep with you even after every time you hang out after that.

He doesn’t do anything to break the ‘platonic’ friendship you two share, because he is so starved of human connection that he finds these moments with you more than enough…for the time being, that is.

Besides, how can he even dare to prey on cute little you, when you blushed so prettily when he so much as placed a hand on your shoulder or on the small of your back as he steered you somewhere?

You certainly deserved better.

A dirty old man like himself isn’t worth your attention and affection if you asked him.

But then he loses his job, fails to find a new one, and continuously fails to pay rent at his old apartment.

Just when it feels like his entire world is crashing before his very eyes, there you are again with a hand held out to him.

“You can stay with me for as long as you need to.”

Yuushi doesn’t hesitate, nor does he hold himself back anymore.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“I want to impregnate you. Gonna make sure my cock keeps kissing your womb like this.”

With your legs wrapped around his waist and your lower body practically folded in half to accommodate the heavy weight of the older man’s body, Yuushi is as deep inside you as he could be. And just like his words, the tip of his cock keeps bullying the entrance to your womb in this position.

“I'll take good care of you and all the little ones we’ll make, I promise.”

The way your insides practically choke his dick with just a few words renews his stamina, and so you both lose yourselves in a haze of pleasure just before the first rays of sunlight peeked through the blinds.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You become Mrs. Totsumoto not too long after, and the both of you move outside Tokyo to manage the strawberry farm you inherited from your grandparents. While your husband does most of the heavy work, especially as your pregnancy progressed, you still helped around with light housework and making different kinds of products with the strawberries you produced.

Aside from the fruits themselves, your humble farm also made strawberry jam, milk, strawberry ice cream, etc. You also had contracts with several businesses, supplying them with your high-quality products.

All in all, business was booming and life was good.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

At a newly opened inn somewhere in Japan, the new owner received this week’s shipment of strawberries as his otherwordly wife peeked from behind him.

“Ooooooh, this new batch of strawberries from our supplier is especially tasty today! Would you like to try some K-ko?”

[iwillbringyouruin]

Visions Magazine with Tobias Forge on the idea behind Rite Here Rite Now, the importance of soundtracks in general and how he distinguishes between himself and his characters (Visions Magazine issue nr. 377, 08/2024)

Full translation of the included interview by me below the cut - buckle up, this is a long post! There are no spoilers for RHRN in this.

Markus Hockenbrink: Tobias, have you ever watched the movie Metallica: Though The Never?

Tobias Forge: Yes, once, when it had just come out. The topic Metallica came up when we were taking care of the funding for [RHRN]. Every larger production company – and I have to emphasise here that this was before Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour and her extremely successful movie about it – voiced a lot of concern back then whether anybody would still be interested in concert movies. I had to explain time and again that my movie wouldn’t be a typical concert movie, to which I was asked several times: “Oh, so something like Through The Never?” I had to deny that again. We tell a story in our movie most of our fans are already familiar with. So it’s not an entirely new concept, which is already the first distinction from Through The Never. If you only consider that there is a concert part and a feature film part, then those two movies are probably similar. But that also applies to La La Land.

M. Hockenbrink: You describe your movie as a combination of Kiss’ Alive II, Ralph Bakshi cartoons and silent film horror. Is that a kind of childhood dream that comes true there?

T. Forge: Definitely. For as long as I’ve been interested in music, I’ve also been interested in film and television. Working in film could have also been a career option for me, but I always got the rather annoying impression that one would have to go to film school to really find a place in that field. School was never my strong suit, I see myself more as a autodidact in that regard. That I had the opportunity to work on/contribute to my own movie as a sorcerer’s apprentice of sorts is a real privilege. That is a dream come true but it is also something I can picture more of in the future. Next time maybe without the band.

M. Hockenbrink: Can you remember a specific moment in your life when you realised that you were especially drawn to topics that are slightly morbid and unsettling?

T. Forge: I think that due to my family I came in contact with vastly different kinds of pop culture from a very young age. In more traditional families with more conservative parents and siblings of similar ages, you only really start with your respective journey to find yourself in your teens. Then there are often restrictions that are meant to distract from those darker influences. My parents on the other hand are very liberal and my brother was 13 years older than me. There were never limits or censorship for me. My childhood didn’t go by without rules entirely, but I was always allowed to watch or listen to what my brother was also watching or listening to. That way I was exposed to all kinds of teenage culture from the beginning. Sure, I also liked Pippi Longstocking and He-Man. But that was always combined with the French arthouse films my mother liked to watch or the horror flicks my brother was into. I can’t recall a particularly striking horror film experience, but I still remember the first time it dawned on me that movies don’t just exist, they’re made.

M. Hockenbrink: How do you mean?

T. Forge: My father worked as a documentary maker in television. His job was to connect the video track and the sound track in a fitting way for different film production. I saw Jaws on television with him as a small child. It’s important to note that my father is not somebody who can just quietly enjoy films but somebody who likes to butt in. Thanks to him I already had a kind of epiphany during the introduction. He said: “Look closely! There is nothing to see in this underwater scenery except the algae. Technically completely harmless. But it only takes the ominous music to turn the whole scene into pure horror already!” And I thought: Wow! That’s true! Later in the movie you only have to hear that music and it immediately puts you on edge, even when there’s nobody in the water right now. They don’t even have to show the shark anymore. I found it fascinating that the [viewer’s] senses/perception could be manipulated like that. Ever since, I’ve been viewing films with different eyes. I can still allow myself to dive into the story but at the same time I see the practical aspect to film-making.

M. Hockenbrink: I had a similar feeling during the introduction of Shining: technically a cozy road trip in the mountains, but a pure nightmare with the music.

T. Forge: I’m with you on that. Shining is one of the best movies of all time. And funnily enough, only the intro sequence was actually shot in nature. All the other scenes, even if they were outside, were filmed in the studio. Exactly that kind of craftsmanship is what I find inspiring.

M. Hockenbrink: With that in mind, what makes a good soundtrack in your opinion?

T. Forge: We already talked about Jaws, but I can think of Eyes Wide Shut as another example. There is that short piano theme that comes up again and again, incredibly effective. A good soundtrack needs to deliver something that you don’t have to be able to see to perceive its existence. Sure, there are no monsters in Eyes Wide Shut, aside from the main character’s jealousy as an internal monster maybe. But just like the music in Jaws, the theme from Eyes Wide Shut symbolises something that doesn’t have to be shown. The sound is enough. That is also a commonly used effect in adventure and love movies. You just put in a short vignette to describe the love between two characters. In Star Wars, Luke Skywalker also has his own theme, that is used every time when things get emotional and you’re supposed to feel that hope. You’ve got to pay attention to that. Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th also has a personal theme to recognise him by. Every time you hear it you immediately know “Oh shit, he’s nearby!”

M. Hockenbrink: What about soundtracks that are made up of songs?

T. Forge: With that, I’m especially thinking of Silence of the Lambs. In the scene where Buffalo Bill dresses up as a woman and dances around his basement, a song called Goodbye Horses by Q Lazzarus is playing. I have no idea how the artist felt about that since the song is now so irrevocably connected to that awful scene, that you can’t listen to it anymore without thinking of it.

M. Hockenbrink: Do you feel like soundtrack work is more appreciated now than it used to be?

T. Forge: I think that it’s definitely gained importance over the last 40 years. The right song on the right soundtrack can be incredibly powerful. Just think of Stranger Things. Obviously, Metallica and Kate Bush already had successful careers before, but what happened with Master of Puppets and Running Up That Hill following the series was something else entirely. The songs were associated so strongly with the narrative, that way more people listened to them than before. Of course I’m a strong advocate for live music but I also realised that nothing is as strong as the connection of visuals and music. That is still the most powerful way to appeal to a deeper emotion through the association.

M. Hockenbrink: More or less a shortcut to the subconscious.

T. Forge: Exactly. But you can’t be cynical about that either. If I was an A&R person at a big label, I would probably also say: “You just have to find a spot for one of your songs on a popular soundtrack, then you’ll have made it!” That’s really how it is. But when you view it from an artistic perspective, when you want to reach people a certain way or bring across a certain message or a certain feeling, the combination of visuals and sound can’t be topped.

M. Hockenbrink: It especially lends itself to an immersive experience, as seems to be in the foreground of [RHRN]. An album by Black Sabbath or Iron Maiden ends at some point, then you’re gone from that metal world again. With Ghost, however, you get the feeling that the illusion just keeps on going, across several media. Did you plan the Ghost mythology like this from the start?

T. Forge: In part. When I started with the band, I only wanted to make a standalone album. The concept was supposed to be interesting and practical, but I wasn’t planning for Ghost to be a huge thing. The style I pictured has its own limits in my opinion. The band was supposed to function a certain way and appeal to a certain target audience. The concert was supposed to be a theatrical performance in the literal sense. Ghost were never supposed to perform in a normal rock club nor go on tour. I wanted more of a kind of Vaudeville show in a proper plushy theatre. The band was supposed to be as anonymous as the actors that stand on stage and play, say, Faust. The idea behind this was: Those who don’t know who the people are on stage are more ready to follow the story. Then we would perform three days back-to-back in select cities. Berlin, Amsterdam, London. Just like Diamanda Galás who can more likely be found at a culture festival than in a rock shack. But things turned out differently in the end, and I had to kiss my original ideas goodbye again, so to speak.

M. Hockenbrink: Why?

T. Forge: After the success of our debut album, it became clear to me that more conventional concerts were going to be demanded of us and that I could only really say yes or no. This problem became worse after our shift to a bigger label. It became clear that my vision of telling stories clashed with the live sector and requirements for success more and more. At a certain point anonymity doesn’t work anymore and I had to make peace with that in the end.  I originally didn’t even want to do interviews but that’s obviously tricky when you want to sell records. The question that I constantly ask myself since is how I can do those things best in the Ghost way without denying the original Vaudeville spirit.

M. Hockenbrink: In his autobiography Golf Monster, Alice Cooper talks about himself in third person a lot when he is talking about his character. Are you feeling similarly at this point?

T. Forge: At least I can definitely see where he’s coming from. There is a difference between the person Vincent Furnier and the character Alice Cooper. I believe that he was on the verge of completely transforming into Alice Cooper at one point – to the point where one has to decide where they want to live or die. In the end he decided to remain Vincent Furnier and only become Alice Cooper for work, on stage. So far I’ve been fortunate to combine the two pretty well, but had I started Ghost ten years earlier in my life, it would have probably affected me similarly to how Alice Cooper did with Vincent Furnier in his time. But with my humble experience as an actor I have to say: every character you play becomes a part of you to a certain extent. You have to find certain qualities – good or bad – within yourself to bring such a character to life. I think that most actors only play one or two roles throughout their life that they then end up being known for. The different characters that I’ve portrayed on stage are not only very similar but actually also a part of me. Fortunately a part of me that I don’t want to deal with all day long.

M. Hockenbrink: Too cynical and antisocial?

T. Forge: Cardinal Copia or Cardi, as I like to call him, is not an all-around cool person, but that makes him so fun to play for me. He is half Freddie Mercury and half Jacques Clouseau. Kind of clumsy, kind of silly, kind of stupid. The kind of guy who trips over his own feet but catches himself elegantly. That’s also me in a way, but not just. And I think that’s easier to embody than a daredevil hero character who can rival anyone and gets all the ladies. When somebody plays only those characters their whole life, it will probably really go to their head. Especially when there are drugs involved on top of that.

M. Hockenbrink: With all that fondness of doom that can be found with Ghost, that universe also has something humorous about it, benign even. It that an intentionally included contradiction?

T. Forge: Yes, and it is also very important to me that it comes across like that. For me that also has something to do with the evolution of metal. Originally it was mostly a phenomenon connected to the youth, nowadays the musicians and their fans are close to retiring. That brings a certain maturity. Even the Norwegian black metal musicians who were super pissed and extreme 30 years ago and were only made of hate and aggression are well-adjusted people now. Bearded fathers and grandfathers with a pleasant view on life that make others laugh. I see a certain duality there. Everything that has something to do with goth, with metal, with horror, appears dark, dismal and hostile at first. But in reality, that can all be extremely life-affirming and a source of great joy for many people. So pretty much the opposite.

M. Hockenbrink: Speaking of horror: could you imagine making a real feature film some day?

T. Forge: Yes, I would love that. I’m well aware that it’s not going to be easy to make what I’m picturing a reality, just because I’ve done directing once with [RHRN] now. The creative liberty I got to enjoy there also was due to the fact that I funded the movie myself. So nobody was meddling with it. That is likely completely different when you work on behalf of a big studio, because we are talking about different sums here. If I only go off my dreams, I would name two points of reference. One is Shining, the other Bram Stoker’s Dracula by Francis Ford Coppola. I would like to make a movie that’s only shot in a studio, with elaborate sets, matte painting and all that. No outside shots, no special effects, no green screen. And no actors who only gets to see what they were actually doing after the fact. Proper old-school. The way movies are actually meant to look.

[caelivir]

rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)

— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it

— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)

— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!

rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.

but he especially loves picnic dates

you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off

you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job

so he agreed

and he loved it

spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.

rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.

“rayne!” you call for his attention.

your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.

“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.

“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”

a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispers.

rayne’s protective of you

he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it

if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that

the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that

he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear

you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.

“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.

you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”

“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”

“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.

the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”

“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.

rage.

he’s pissed.

recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.

the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”

you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”

rayne lets you wear his robes

whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them

when you first did it, he was going to protest

but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide

you especially like wearing them when you nap

though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time

“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”

rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.

this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.

yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.

rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.

that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.

“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.

the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him

rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.

whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls

he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like

you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm

and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him

an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.

the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:

dear rayne,

how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.

classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.

speaking of finn, he’s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…

gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.

- y/n

p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.

rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary’s face as he writes back to you—his home.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.7 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warning: mentions of trauma, violence, abuse

See masterlist

All her life, she has been an outcast. After all, rumours spread fast when you live in a small place.

"She is cursed."

"No normal being has what she has."

"Stay away from her."

"Did you hear? She is not fae because of that."

All because of one traitor. All because she trusted the wrong 'friend' to tell and show it to.

It did not get better when the rumours reached him either.

She still has the burns on her legs from that night to prove that.

He was tying her onto the table. She was screaming, trying to fight him, pleading for whoever would listen, to come save her. No one came.

A slap across her right cheek.

"Shut your mouth! You have already embarassed me enough by having your deformity be the talk of every Illyrian camp to exist."

She was completely tied to the table. Her weak, bony, bruised arms and legs were secured to the edges with really tight and thick ropes.

"No! Let me go!"

That was when he took the heated metal, red-hot in appearance, and started to come closer to her.

He prepared for this. He was planning to do this to her all along because that iron did not get so hell-hot in a matter of seconds.

Maybe today was the day. Her end.

To her surprise, he applied it not to her chest, but to her legs. Nonstop, taking turns for each leg.

She tried. She really tried not to scream, not to give him the satisfaction of her pain but, how could she not? She was being burned for Cauldron's sake! She held out for a minute before succumbing into the pain.

She did not remember the rest because she passed out after who knows which burn.

She was 15.

So why her? Why was she the chosen one? Why should she close the gates? Was she not the cursed one? Why did The Book of Breathings send her here? What is her purpose?

So many questions. Seems like her plan to go home as soon as possible and leave them to deal with their own problems would have to be erased.

With a sigh, she looked up at the bright blue sky as she and Fenrys finally made it out of the warded area into the clearing.

Apparently, all this thinking has made her blind because the next thing she knows, y/n is colliding with a hard wall- no, muscle. She looked up to see that it was none other than Fenrys, holding her by her arms so she can balance her body once again. She was pressed to his body.

With an awkward move, she staggered back and tried to stop herself from blushing like a tomato. And from the amused smirk on Fenrys' face, she was doing a terrible job at keeping herself composed.

"I-...sorry,"

He let out a small chuckle as he came closer, "Let that be a lesson to not daydream while walking."

She scoffed and turned her face while crossing her arms, "I was NOT daydreaming."

She tried and failed to hide her sneaky smile.

He turned her around so that they were face to face as he said, "Hmmm sure, whatever you say. I can winnow us out of here now. Hopefully, this time you won't make a scene about it."

"I was NOT making a scene either, I was just- wait. Did you just say winnow? As in, the way we say it in Prythian?"

Fenrys simply shrugged before taking her hand and as the world around them began disapearing, all he said was, "Just a slip up. I will never say it again."

Y/n could not stop the smile that formed on her face.

When they arrived at the grand hall, the first thing y/n noticed was that her legs were sore after walking for so many days. Scratch that. Her whole body was sore. Sleeping on the ground does that to you. Damn those tall trees and their dense leaves, she couln't even fly! Going to bed right now and sleeping for a whole day or two did not sound like a bad plan at all.

The second thing she noticed was that Aedion's right arm was covered in bandages and hanging from a sling. How on earth did he manage to break his arm? Looks like they were not the only ones who had a tough journey.

And the third thing she noticed was a new face. Silver hair like moonlight highlighted a face so beautiful, y/n wondered if this woman was even real. Lips covered in a seductive red color that would make any being fall on their knees for her. When her eyes that were the color of burnt gold locked with y/n's gaze, the woman seemingly assesed her from head to toe. In turn, y/n did the same. She was wearing some kind of scale-embossed black, leather coat-dress with a silver chain around her torso, and a small, red fabric dangling from the chain. Her simple, black pants and knee high boots added an air of dominance to her overall look.

Was this Manon? Fenrys mentioned her name earlier but y/n was too distracted with the loud roars coming from that weird flying thing that she was almost not paying any attention.

"Shhh"

"Don't shush me!"

"This is getting a little too intense guys"

"No, it is getting exciting. Just look at the way they are coldly looking at one another! Fight, Fight, Fi-"

"Gods, Aedion stop that! Are you a child?!"

Y/n was pulled out of her haze as she looked around the room to see everyone looking between her and Manon. Apparently, they were too intense with their assessment of one another.

Manon, seemingly unfazed, just kept on staring at her face with cool indifference. So, y/n did the same. She was not about to look scared in front of this woman.

Aelin, clearly seeing the tension, came forward while clearing her throat.

"Y/n, this is Manon. Manon Blackbeak. She is The Queen of Witches and our bestest friend." she said jokingly as she tried side-hugging Manon, to which the woman scoffed and removed her arm while smirking slightly.

So she was a witch. The Queen of Witches. Oh, Nesta would have loved her.

"Manon dearest, this is the one and only Y/n. Anddd I would be glad if you could stop giving her death stares now. You too, y/n."

Y/n held her ground under Manon's penetrating gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. She could sense the power and confidence radiating from the Queen of Witches, and while it intimidated her, it also intrigued her.

"Manon Blackbeak," Y/n echoed, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. "I've heard a lot about you."

Manon raised an eyebrow, her smirk fading slightly as she regarded Y/n with a calculating gaze.

"Have you now?" she replied, her tone neutral yet tinged with curiosity.

Aelin interjected with a nervous laugh, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. "Yes, Y/n, Manon here is not just the Queen of Witches but also quite the force to be reckoned with."

Manon's lips quirked in amusement at Aelin's attempt at diplomacy, but she remained silent, her eyes still fixed on Y/n.

Y/n took a breath, deciding to address the tension head-on. "Look, I don't know what your impression of me is, but I'm here to help," she stated firmly, meeting Manon's gaze with determination. "Whatever it takes to close those gates and protect our worlds....aaaanddd finally get me to MY world."

Manon's expression softened for a quick second, a hint of respect gleaming in her eyes. "Words are easy." she remarked cryptically, her voice low but carrying an undertone of acknowledgment.

Rowan cleared his throat, attempting to diffuse the palpable atmosphere. "Yes, well, we're all on the same side here," he said diplomatically, giving a pointed look to both Y/n and Manon. "Let's focus on why we're all gathered. There's a lot at stake."

Manon's gaze lingered on Y/n for a moment longer before she finally broke the stare, her expression unreadable. "Agreed" she said simply, her voice carrying a tone of authority that resonated through the room.

Lysandra got up to her feet "Very well then! Who wants to go first?"

The second she saw Lorcan open his mouth, Lysandra put up her hand as she said, "Nevermind, we will go first."

There were a few chuckles and a full on cruel smirk from Manon directed right at the angry giant.

The green eyed female turned towards her husband and Elide as she said, "Dearest crew mates, shall we begin?"

Aedion was about to say something when she also shut him up "Do not. I am still pissed at you for what you did. Elide, sweetheart, will you do the honors?"

Aedion rolled his eyes as he scoffed and grumbled something under his breath which made Eva let out a wide eyed laugh.

Elide sat on one of the chairs surrounding the large table and sighed "Well, as much as Lysandra just added dramatics and made it seem like we discovered something beyond shocking, we only managed to find one thing that could help us."

"Hey! We needed to add some dramatics to make it seem bigger than it is. Or else they will be disappointed that we don't come with much information. I guess it is all ruined now anyway." Lysandra finished before jokingly sticking her tounge out at Elide.

"If I may-"

"No you may not Aedion."

"Lysandra, please, starlight."

"Fine! Do whatever you want. It is not like I was able to stop you before!"

Y/n, feeling the tension between them, murmured to the blond queen beside her, "What happened with those two?"

Aelin simply sighed and shook her head "If only we knew."

Aedion cleared his throat before adressing the room, "So, after a two day journey JUST to reach the Sanctuary, we were able to acquire a meeting with the head monk. Thanks to Elide's lovely acting and sweet talking. Once we met with the wrinkly, bony, ghost-"

"He was not that at all! Yes, he was quite ancient but so sweet! He even gave us sweet drinks." Elide said before casting a glare at the blond warrior.

Aedion continued, "Yes. Well, he was only sweet to you. I still did not get over the fact that he called my wife a half-beastie."

Lysandra scoffed "You should have let me deal with him on my own! There was no need to cause that fight!"

At that, Aelin interjected "What fight? What on earth are you talking about?"

Lysandra pointed a finger at Aedion before looking at her queen "Did you know, your cousin-"

"What is wrong with protecting my wife-"

"ENOUGH!"

To everyone's absolute shock, it was Elide who shouted that word and got up from her chair, striding to the center of the room with a determined look on her face.

"Look, we went, I charmed the old folks, they allowed us to go through their manuscripts and ancient whatever else. Of course, even my smooth-talk had its limits because we did not get a full access and there were monks and sages looking over our shoulders at any point."

She took a deep breath before continuing, "So, what we managed to find was that the gates are indeed weakened. Apparently, the barriers between realms are awakening. And guess what? The Valg are exploiting these vulnerabilities to gain access to not just our world, but to any world possible."

She then looked pointedly at Aedion and Lysandra "There was this one specific manuscript. Its cover looked very promising I was just about to take it and quickly go through it but..."

Rowan crossed his arms as he urged, "But...what?"

She sighed before looking at no one in particular "But, a specific shifter and a specific warrior ruined it all."

"Wait what-"

"I ruined nothing-"

"Why me-"

Manon's voice cut through the growing commotion, "You fought with a monk because he called Lysandra a half-beastie?"

Aedion got up to his feet, although y/n did see how he hissed a little due to the condition of his arm.

"No. I was beyond mad when the monk said that in the beginning of our little visit of course, but Lysandra somehow managed to calm me. It was not until these two were searching for information and I was in the hall, looking through the window. That cranky old bastard once again came near me and....and fucking dared to not only insult MY wife again, but also MY queen. Saying things how, 'now she remembers them', that Aelin is a 'spoiled brat' and whatever not. I could not take it no more."

Utter silence was in the room as y/n, seeing the state he got into, carefully asked, "And how exactly did you break your arm?"

He sighed before plopping down on the couch and looking her fiercely in the eyes. "The bastard managed to push me quite forcefully with his magic into a wall. I beat him up in the end of course, but he still managed to win this one from me." He paused as he pointed to his arm before looking at his wife and then, cousin "But I would do it all again if it meant that I could rip his head out this time. The females of my household will never be disrespected."

Rowan came forward and put his hand on Aedion's shoulder, a sign of respect and gratitude for protecting his mate's honor.

Aelin also came forward and sat next to her cousin, put her hand on his right shoulder, before continuing, "You should be more careful next time. I am grateful nonetheless cousin. Hopefully, those bony bastards will know their place from now on."

Before anyone could say anything, she cleared her throat and looked at her mate and Lorcan, "What about you two?"

The two warriors exchanged a look before Lorcan said in a voice so...not agressive or angry that y/n thought she must be hallucinating.

"Anyone who is standing might want to sit down for this one."

Rowan looked at his companion before nodding and then gazing at everyone else in the room.

"When we went to The Riftgate Ruins....while we were studying them, trying to understand anything about what was on them, we noticed that there were recent disturbances or traces of Valg magic that indicate current activity."

Lorcan came forward and continued the story on his brothers behalf, "Since I am, after all, the best and most skilled tracker that there is,"

Y/n nearly felt her eyeballs hit the back of her head because of how hard she was rolling them.

"Detecting Valg magic that leaves distinct residues and traces was not hard. Rowan and I found lingering traces of Valg essence or dark magic around the ruins, which clearly suggests recent Valg activity."

Y/n felt the room physically grow cold as the uncomfortable silence stretched on and on. Is it possible then? Are Valgs back?

Chaol, who was apparently standing by the doorway and listening, asked "But how? We killed them all during the war. Erawan is dead. Shouldn't their connection be severed?"

No one answered him. No one could answer him because no one had an answer to give.

Aelin, fear and determination evident in her gaze, said, "What if they are not all dead? But how would that be? Were they not connected to Erawan?"

Manon sighed before turning her head towards Chaol, "Yrene. Did she find something yet?"

Chaol came into the light and oh Mother above...did he even sleep? His hair was completely dishelved, there were bags under his eyes and why in the seven hells was he limping?

He said in a tired voice, "She is getting close. The language is clearly something she has never seen before so she is giving it her all. Give her some more time."

It was Lysandra who asked, "She won't let anyone into the room, is she atleast well? eating? sleeping? taking care?"

"Of course. My wife is my number one priority. I make sure that she is well."

Fenrys, who had not spoken until now, came closer and put a hand on the brown haired man as he said, "You need rest as well. We will take care of Yrene in whatever she needs. Do not forget what happens when one of you is not well. It affects the other."

What? Y/n made a mental note to ask Aelin on what on earth that meant.

Chaol nodded and got up as he said, "Yes, I will. For her well-being, I will. Just came to give you all the latest news. And apparently got shocking news in turn as well," a look directed at Rowan and Lorcan.

Aelin sighed, "Just go rest. You gave up much of your energy. You both did. We got it for now."

Once Chaol was gone, the queen looked at Eva, smiled sadly and said, "Thanks to Eva's precise book spotting and my exceptional page skimming skills, we managed to quickly find some interesting facts. The Book of Breathings contains ancient spells capable of containing the Valg. In fact, it has a specific text dedicated to sealing them. If this is true, it could only mean one thing, the Valgs already existed when that book was created."

It was Eva who came closer to y/n and looked up at her "But isn't that book in your world? How can we get it into this world?"

Y/n had no idea on what to say apart from, "The book was created using the last of the molten ore used to forge the Cauldron, I thought it only contained spells to control the Cauldron's powers. But if there is a specific area in it that is dedicated to the Valgs then it could mean that when it was created, the Vags attempted to endanger my world as well."

Lysandra put her face in her palms and muttered "This is getting worse by the minute."

Elide sighed as she turned her head towards Fenrys and said, "Please tell me you two atleast found something less....depressive."

Right. Y/n and Fenrys also had to tell about their findings. Great.

It wasn't until Fenrys came and stood near her that y/n realized how her heart was about to rip out of her chest. She was anxious and uncomfortable just by talking about what they found out.

All of a sudden, she felt this overwhelming amount of calm and soothing overtake her body. She turned her head to her right to see him standing right next to her now. She would never say it out loud but, y/n was glad that Fenrys was beside her during this revelation.

He seemingly understood her state because he cast her a quick glance before beginning to talk about their 'lovely' little journey.

Fenrys looked at everyone in the room as he recounted the events, from the appearence of the otherworldly seers to the revelations thrown upon them. Once he was done, the room went through another intensely extended period of silence as everyone processed his words.

Aelin had pure shock on her face while Rowan was just staring at the wall, his gaze unfocused, Lysandra tilted her head backwards and closed her eyes, Aedion stared at the ground, unmoving, Elide gasped before putting her hand on her mouth and looking at no one in particular, Lorcan had a frustrated look on his face directed at Fenrys, Eva was just looking up at y/n with wide eyes and Manon....well she was harder to understand but from the slight furrow in her brows y/n guessed that she was still analyzing Fenrys' words.

Y/n cleared her throat and came a little forward "Well, it seems like I can not go home until we solve your problem."

Aedion, still staring at the ground, replied "It may also become your world's problem if we do not put an end to this quickly."

Before y/n could reply, Rowan said to no one in particular "We need a properly constructed plan" before seemingly coming back from his haze and immediately leaving the room followed by a confused yet determined Lorcan.

Y/n saw how everyone, especially Aelin was still processing the information so, she said with a sigh, "I am going to rest. I do not think my mind is able to form any coherent thoughts right now." without looking back or waiting for an answer, she turned around and ascended the grand stairs.

Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes was all the time she could sleep for- or atleast force herself to sleep for. Her body was begging her earlier for some good sleep and food but now, as she lay in bed, she was neither hungry nor sleepy. After staring at the ceiling for the past thirty minutes, y/n huffed before getting up and going to change into a more comfortable attire.

Once she discarded her turtleneck, y/n gently touched her throat, pleasantly surprised by how effective Isolde's salve had been on her injury. The mark that had once marred her skin was now barely noticeable, a testament to the healing properties of the salve. With a contented sigh, she planned to apply it once more later, confident that it would soon vanish completely.

Choosing a clean white turtleneck from her wardrobe, y/n slipped it on, followed by dark brown pants and boots.

Once she was ready, y/n stepped onto the balcony, the serene evening view stretching out before her. With a deep breath, she leapt into the air, feeling weightless and free as she soared above the grounds, her mind momentarily liberated from the concern's coming their way. Where she was going, y/n neither had no idea nor did she care as her wings flapped and she felt a sense of happiness and relaxation fall over her.

Fenrys was tired. Exhausted even. There was so much happening that he could barely keep up. He trusted Rowan to make a proper action plan without his help because if he had to stand for another minute, he would end up falling asleep and kissing the ground.

But, after what happened between him and y/n in the woods, Fenrys also had another question bugging his mind. Who hurt her?

He knew that he shouldn't care. That she meant absolutely nothing to him and therefore, he should let her handle her own problems. In fact, he should be delighted that someone caused her discomfort here, made her realize she is not safe in this world. It should have brought him great satisfaction when he pictured her scared face.

But all it brought to him was an overflow of anger and violence. Something within him forced Fenrys to turn violent whenever he thought of her in danger. He will find whoever caused her that mark. And when he does....let the nonexistent Gods have mercy on them because Fenrys for sure won't.

But first, sleep. Just as he was walking the halls to get to his room, he saw her, flying high in the sky, looking so ethereal-

No. Don't be stupid.

He ignored her, continuing on his path. Just go to your room and rest Fenrys. Yes. You don't need to care for her. Or follow her.

5 minutes later, he was outside getting ready to shift into a wolf and....follow her. Whatever this feeling within him was, it was as if he was being tugged or pulled to go wherever she goes.

In his defense, Fenrys tried to reason with himself that he was doing this for safety. What if she was a spy? Maybe she was going somewhere to meet with her accomplice? He was doing it for his queen. For his country. For his family.

But even as Fenrys shifted and began his way into the woods, he knew what a lie it was. He has no reason to still see her as a suspect because even the seers confirmed her innocence. And value to the book apparently.

After what seemed like twenty minutes, he found her, sitting on a medium sized boulder, overlooking the grassy views of Orynth.

He slowly approached her. Like a beast sizing its prey. If he jumped her now, she wouldn't even have time to react before he ripped her throat. But for some reason, even thinking of such a scenario left a sour taste in his mouth.

Apparently she knew he was here because without even turning around, her honey-like voice said, "Seems like you have this severe obsession with hunting and catching me."

She knew it was him without even having to look back. It made no sense how she would always recognize Fenrys out of a thousand others. So, as the giant white wolf shifted beside her into the familiar male, y/n felt a mixture of excitement and curiosity. The transformation from wolf to man was seamless, a testament to Fenrys' mastery over his shapeshifting abilities.

He wordlessly came and sat beside her on the boulder, leaving a respectful distance between them even though just last night they slept in each others arms. It looks like he won't bring that conversation up anytime soon. She won't either.

So, y/n, still not looking at the male beside her, asked, "Where do your people live? Looks like the forests here are very large."

Fenrys who was apparently also preferring to look towards the view instead of her, replied, "These are the palace grounds. I know, they are quite big but the people live just outside this forest. There are towns and villages. Aelin's subjects love her very much."

Y/n smiled a little "Seems like she is a good queen then."

At that, Fenrys also smiled "Yes. The best."

After a minute of silence, he asked "How....how is your life back in your world?"

To say that she was shocked would be an understatement. Fenrys was asking her a question and not throwing another snark remark? Was he being civil with her right now? It surely must be raining rocks.

He should not have asked her this. What even made him ask her this? Why are you entertaining the idea of her? Get up and leave. Now.

But he did not move. Not even a single inch as he watched her turn her head and look at him for the first time since he arrived here. And....what a sight for sore eyes she was.

The sunset was casting a natural glow over her features as she angled her head towards him and those kissable lips began moving- enough.

"My life....well I have um....gone through many different moments in my life- well, I can tell you about my years serving in the Night Court?"

Why was she hesitating to talk about her life? Some uneasy feeling settled over him but he ignored it as he nodded his head slightly, urging for her to continue.

Y/n took a deep breath before looking back at the view "When I met my High Lord, I was a trainer-of sorts for my own academy. Anyways, he and I had some...common beliefs regarding well-"

"Regarding?"

She sighed "Illyrians. Females like me, coming from the Illyrian mountains. That place is....not a kind one. Towards females, I mean. The males there are so traditional, sticking to the old rules where the only job of a female was to cook, clean and work as some kind of a breeding machine. There is this tradition that when we become old enough...female wings should be clipped."

He felt nauseous. How could a place like that exist? How could- wait. Did that mean..."Did they treat you like that? Did they try to clip your wings too?" even saying these words made him see red.

She was clearly uncomfortable now. Her face suddenly became shiny with a thin layer of sweat as she started fiddling with her fingers and looking everywhere but at him.

Something is wrong.

"Y/n-"

"Velaris is a very beautiful place to live in. Rhysand, my ex High Lord, and his ancestors kept that city a secret for a long time. Protecting it from our enemies."

She was avoiding him but it was alright, he would not press on the matter. After all, he would also avoid it if she were to ask him about his past. About what Maeve would force him to do, about his years as her slave- No. Don't go there. Just listen to her soothing voice.

Why was she even telling him these things? Apparently she was greatly missing home and needed someone to vent to.

"Rhysand introduced me to his family who later on also became my family. Cas or well...Cassian, Amren, Mor and...Az."

She felt him slightly stiffen beside her as he asked, "Who?"

Y/n cleared her throat "Azriel. He um...he-I....we were....acquinted."

She saw Fenrys put his arms on his legs and clench his hands slightly as he asked, "Mate?"

Her heart sank. She hates that word. Despises it. Especially the memories it brings up about Azriel.

Clearly, her frustration got the best of her because she snapped, "Not a mate."

Did his shoulders just relax? Why was he mad at her?

"Then...what?"

With a sigh, she tilted her head backwards and looked at the sky "We...we were lovers. 52 years. We were happy and in love or atleast I thought that but clearly I was wrong because this whole time he took me for a fool and played with my feelings."

She was on her feet now, pacing around, fuming to herself "I was such a fool, you know. I thought we were mates, that the bond would snap at any moment. That we were destined to be together. In the end, he found his mate, cheated on me with her for two whole fucking years, confessed how he never loved me, how he only saw me as a placeholder for her, and how my so called 'family' knew of this the whole fucking time!"

She saw nothing, her heart was racing, her vision blurry as she continued, "Feyre, long story short, she was a human once then became a high fae. When Rhys first introduced her to us, I was the one who constantly kept her company, I was the one who ensured her well-being, her proper transition to her new life. I taught her how to improve her shooting skills before the war against Hybern. I was loyal to my High Lady. I would follow her to the ends of the earth."

She let out a cruel, mocking laugh before continuing, "Then came Nesta and Elain. Feyre's two sisters. The King of Hybern threw them inside the Cauldron and turned them into high fae against their own will! And guess what? It was me again who took care of both of them. Especially Nesta because she was so misunderstood. I was the one who stood by her side through thick and thin. I was the one to join her little training session's as a sign of support. That was where I met Gwyn. The cause for my downfall. I was the one who talked sense into Cassian about being a proper mate towards Nesta. I-"

Her words were stuck in her throat. She wanted to cry. No. She won't.

"I...trusted them Fenrys. All of them. Mor and Amren, they were like sisters to me. We fought back to back on battlefields together for Cauldron's sake!"

She suddenly turned around and looked at him but did not see anything as her memories took over her "Do you know what I was doing right before I came here? I found out that the male whom I loved for so long was unfaithful to me for 2 years! 2 years, can you imagine?! And everyone fucking knew. Everyone. I was there for them when they were at their lowest but no one ever was there for me when I started descending into darkness all because Azriel was a little coward! But I was an idiot. Of course they would defend him. Protect him."

It felt good. So good to finally let your emotions out. To let your anger out.

But she could not breathe. She fell on her knees. Her mind was being bombarded with memories, her vision was getting more and more blurry, she was-

Y/n suddenly felt her body being pressed to a solid chest. She looked up to see Fenrys on the ground, holding her tightly to him while a mixture of anger, concern, frustration and pain was written all over his face.

His hands gently smoothed her hair as she laid her head on his chest, hearing his beating heart, "Shhhh, calm down now princess. It is in the past now."

She pressed her face further into his clothing as she murmured, "That doesn't make it any less hurtful."

She felt him sigh, "No, it doesn't."

His voice was so distant now. Y/n moved her head away from his chest to take a better look at his face and...yes he was definitely somewhere far off now, staring into the sunset with a mournful expression.

She quietly asked "What about you? What is your story Fenrys?"

He slowly looked back at her "It is a long one."

Her hand moved before she could even think, finding its place on his cheek. A look of surprise passed over his features as his gaze landed on hers. She smiled slightly, "I am willing to listen."

He gave a weak smile back, "You didn't tell me your full story now, did you?"

She sighed and looked down while closing her eyes, "No. I did not."

The next thing she knew, he put his thumb on her chin, followed by his index finger under her chin, and lifted her head up.

They were so close now, his breath was hitting her face. She could count the freckles on his face. Oh how otherworldy beautiful this male was.

Fenrys' gaze fell onto her lips as he quietly said, "Then we shall talk of our lives some other time."

She gave him a slight nod. Did she? y/n could not even remember because her gaze was locked on his as they started inching closer and closer, their lips about to-

A loud rumble shook the whole place as they were both ripped back from their haze and immediately got up.

Y/n turned around quickly so that he wouldn't see her embarassingly red blush that was beggining to form on her face.

"I-um...thank you...for letting me talk my nonsense."

She felt his hand on her arms as Fenrys turned her around. He had a very serious look on his face as he said, "Do not apologize. You did not talk 'nonsense' you let your feelings out."

Before y/n could reply, there was that loud growl again. Fenrys chuckled "Seems like Abraxos is not happy right now."

Right. Abraxos. That giant beast thing.

"I don't understand how you guys have such giant beast thingies-"

Fenrys let out a full laugh at that and for some reason, y/n wanted to engrave that sound in her memory for ever. Because he is always an arrogant prick who does not know what fun means, she kept telling herself.

"Wyverns, they are called Wyverns. Did you see him yet?"

"What?! No, of course not."

"Then let's go."

"Fenrys wai-"

But Fenrys took her hand and they were gone. The next thing she knew, she was in the middle of the palace grounds and there was this large beast thingie- Wyvern in front of her.

Manon was also here together with Eva and Lysandra as the young girl tried petting it.

As they got closer, she could hear Manon saying, "How many times have I told you to not eat the flowers in the royal gardens?! Just eat the flowers here, you know Aelin and how pissed she gets about her sweet little royal flowers, just avoid me the headache and eat the flowers on this side of the land, you stubborn brute!"

Abraxos only snarled back as Eva and Lysandra laughed loudly.

Eva was the first one to notice them as she ran towards y/n and took her hand, dragging her towards Abraxos.

"Y/n! meet Abraxos, he may look scary but he is the sweetest little creature everrr!"

As she came near it, y/n let out a little uncomfortable chuckle, "Doesn't really seem like a sweet little innocent creature to me."

Lysandra put her hand on y/n's shoulder and smirked "Well, he is the weirdest that's for sure. Unlike other Wyverns who eat humans and whatever living being they can get their teeth on, this fellow over here eats...flowers."

She heard Fenrys chuckle behind her as Manon scoffed.

Before anyone could say anything, Abraxos moved towards her with surprising gentleness, his massive wings folded back in a display of docility. His scales shimmered in the final few rays of light coming from the sunset, reflecting hues of deep blues and black that glinted like polished gemstones.

Y/n stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to retreat or stand her ground. Abraxos approached cautiously, his large eyes fixed on her with an almost curious gaze. She could feel the warmth of his breath as he sniffed the air around her, his demeanor unexpectedly gentle despite his imposing size.

Eva beamed beside her, her enthusiasm undimmed. "See? He likes you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with delight.

Y/N managed a nervous smile, tentatively reaching out a hand to stroke Abraxos' scaled muzzle. To her surprise, he leaned into her touch, emitting a low rumble that sounded almost like contentment.

"He's... actually quite sweet," y/n admitted, her initial apprehension melting away in the presence of the gentle giant before her.

Manon crossed her arms, a begrudging smile playing on her lips. "Don't let him fool you," she warned, though her tone held a hint of fondness. "He's a soft spot for anyone who shows him kindness."

Lysandra chuckled softly. "Well, you've won him over, y/n. Not many can claim that honor."

Fenrys stepped forward, his usual guarded expression softening as he watched the scene unfold. "Abraxos has a way of surprising us all," he remarked, a note of respect in his voice.

She felt the world around them fade away as if it was just her and this beast who was starting to warm its way to her heart. How is this even possible?

A servant came running towards them as she said, "Dinner is ready your majesty and....ladies and...lord Fenrys...." The poor girl squeled and ran away the second Abraxos moved and everyone let out a chuckle, especially Fenrys who said while shaking his head, "Still can't understand why they don't call me by my name when I am not even a lord."

Lysandra and Eva began going towards the palace as the former said while still smiling, "Well it sure is hilarious to watch them stumble over their words when they are in your presence."

Fenrys smirked and moved towards the palace but stopped when he saw y/n still petting Abraxos.

"Aren't you coming?"

"You go. I will join you in a minute."

He smiled slightly but turned around and walked after Lysandra and Eva.

"You know that Eva has a crush on you right?"

Y/n was startled by Manon's voice. She was leaning against her Wyvern's side, arms crossed, watching y/n like a hawk. Seems like The Queen of Witches also hadn't left yet.

"What? No, of course she doesn't"

Manon looked towards the palace as she said, "The girl literally has hearts in her eyes whenever she looks at you. Clings to you like a koala bear. Besides, I heard her telling Lysandra how she can't wait to grow up and confess her 'undying love' for you. Poor child."

The silver haired witch looked back at her. Y/n let out a laugh that was soon joined by a small smirk on Manon's face.

"Well then, I guess I will have to wait for the next 5 years for her to come of age and confess her love to me. Pity that I am over a hundred years older than her." y/n said jokingly while still chuckling.

Suddenly, she let out a low hiss as her hand got pricked by one of the sharp, small scales on Abraxos, causing her blood to trickle down her palm.

No, not here. Please. Not now.

She had to hide her curse. Her lifelong secret. Her lifelong doom.

Manon can not see-

A gasp came from beside her as The Queen of Witches took her hand and inspected it. After what felt like an eternity, Manon raised her head, eyes slightly widened as she said,

"Your blood is blue. You are an Ironteeth Witch."

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

A/n: Sooo y/n's secret is out now. Wonder what will happen next;)) Thank you all for reading!

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[rgbstatic]

Rewatching Marble Hornets really has me questioning why Alex wasn't really included in Creepypasta media, at least alongside his peers with Masky and Hoodie.

This may be spoilers if you've never watched Marble Hornets before (its 15+ years old, but I digress).

First I do want to establish that in Marble Hornets.

Alex is the acting antagonist, Jay is our unreliable protagonist and narrator, Tim eventually becomes a side protagonist. Hoodie is a side character who often seems to help our protagonists. Every other character are side characters that help move things forward and intensify plot- when I go into detail on some characters, some of what I say can be applied to them too.

Next, the Operator's way of controlling it's "proxies".

The Operator has some sort of aura that, when exposed, causes some sort of illness. Coughing fits, seizures, and presumably more. It's presence also in turn causes paranoia, insomnia, memory loss, and a general loss of senses. This is what it seems to use to control others.

You see this with all characters in the series, how ill they get, how paranoid they get, how the worse these all are the more they do things for the Operator. You see this happen to nearly everyone.

For Tim, he is able to eventually curb this via medications, presumably seizure medications. It doesn't fully stop Tim from being controlled by the Operator and acting as Masky, but it does over time seem to make it happen less and less. You also see Masky act in later acts of the series against the Operator, or at least for Jay.

Hoodie is interesting, because you really don't see much from him, but most of his appearances is helping Jay, and you find his house full of medication bottles, presumably stolen from Tim or from some other means. The totheark videos have many purposes. They can threaten Jay, or they can warn him, they can help him. In some you see messages which echo and parrot the drawings Alex makes, in others you see him give Jay clues. He both works for the Operator, but against him and Alex at the same time.

Jay starts off as seemingly one of the only people on the cast/crew of Marble Hornets to not get involved when Alex first started his shenanigans. He remembers Marble Hornets and starts looking, immediately he gets sick and paranoid and starts encountering the Operator. He is tired and irritable, and towards the end you see him make more and more rash decisions, violent decisions. His path seems to mirror Alex, the only difference is that Jay wants to stop all of this.

Alex is the most interesting, because you almost never if at all see him ill. You can presume that maybe he saw the Operator as a kid, as one of the totheark videos show childhood home videos of him and mark him with the Operator's symbols and show's the being there, but you never see it. Alex acts under the operator seemingly at all times. He starts off paranoid, maybe even afraid, but very quickly he becomes numb to it. Seth and Sarah die very early on. He attacks Brian, Tim- all so early on, and he seems to feel no remorse for it. Eventually, it does seem like he falls away from the influence. He moves away, stops recording. This goes on for years, until his girlfriend finds his old camera. Almost instantly the Operator is there. She is missing, but he survives. Once again, the moment the Operator is involved he works under him without skipping a beat. He knows she's gone, he drags Jay into it to stop him from searching further, or perhaps to be a magnet to finish the job of those who escaped before. Alex doesn't have any sort of alter ego. He remembers, he remembers everything. Perhaps he acts out of self preservation, but something else is going on. Alex starts to corrupt the footage just like the Operator, he seems to be able to call it to him and he approaches it, stands in it's wake unaffected. He's too far gone, maybe he always was.

All of this is to say, he is the villain of this story. He may eventually be defeated, but you could argue Tim gets better and moves on and never is a proxy again.

Alex should have, and should be viewed as a more scary person, with the likes of other creepypastas, because for all intents and purposes he was the Operator's favorite, and the one to carry out it's wants and to carry out it's actions. Hoodie and Masky disobeyed time and time again, Alex continued without question or remorse. Killing people not even involved with the story.

Just in terms of story, for the longest time Masky and Hoodie were side characters that popped up once every several entries. It wasn't until over half way through that Tim becomes a central character. Alex is always there. It's his story, it's his tapes, it is him who brought the Operator to them all over and over and over again, he is the main character with Jay as a narrator of things he has done. It all leads back to him.

Something something, i think 15 years is long enough to give this evil guy a bit of spotlight in his own story.

[lorelune]

(aventurine x reader /// continuation of this concept)

"explain to me," the good doctor demands, "why do you need my help?"

"because." you fumble around your words. your lips feel cold. herta's space station, especially this deep in its bowels, is an unpleasant place to have any conversation, let alone one that is also unpleasant. "i don't have time."

"and you assume i do?"

"partially?" you rub a hand over your cheek. "throw me a bone here, doctor."

ratio has been sizing you up for the better part of half an hour, scrutinizing your intent in any way he can. you have been skillfully attempting to dodge most of those attempts, but veritas ratio is as diligent a man as he is intelligent. which is to say that he is not letting up until you divulge the truth.

you sigh.

"you will explain to me," he says outright, gaze piercing. "how one of the intelligentsia guild's most esteemed researchers needs help with an algorithm that is far below both of our skill levels. it's insulting to both myself, and yourself."

you sigh again, deeper and harder, "i, once again, do not have time. i have the 'full time job' of handling aventurine's odds, and those calculations don't run like any other odds i've ever worked with, and he is a variable constantly in motion. i need help making this algorithm so i can have some assistance with my main job at hand."

the doctor scoffs, and walks a circle around you, "i'm sure he's just thrilled with the company."

"we— he manages."

more than. but, veritas doesn't need to know that. you're sure he'll figure it out eventually.

veritas tagged the briefcase on a nearby table. it's gleaming, with a discreet ipc logo embossed on the side. the sight of it makes you nauseous with anxiety.

"is this bribe from him?" he asks.

"no." you've stopped aventurine anytime he has tried to intervene and make things easier for you. he rarely listens, but your relationship with ratio and the guild make him somewhat neutral territory. "higher up."

"i assume diamond wouldn't bother to dirty her hands. so, jade?"

"yes."

dr. ratio, for the first time, seriously considers your offer. then scowls. "it would be a waste of my time."

you sigh. there was a 67.22% chance of this outcome. luckily, you have gamed out the conversation from here.

"so you can't?"

"you know i can."

then, you laugh, and shake your head. "yes, i do. sorry to tease. i'm quite tired."

"you should go find your gambler." veritas crosses his arms, looking sidelong at the briefcase.

"i will, eventually." you turn your back to veritas as you begin to leave the open atrium. the air is hollow and frigid. "i'll just ask some other intelligentsia guild members about the project first. i'm sure they'd be happy to help."

you only take a few steps before dr. ratio grabs your arm. his grip is far too strong.

(chance of failure to secure dr. veritas ratio's assistance: decreased by 31%.)

"don't bother them."

"someone needs to help." you turn back to look at him, expression schooled. "and if you won't, i'm very sure someone else will be happy to work beside 'one of the intelligentsia guild's most esteemed researchers'. or, does such a title not truly apply considering i've been ousted from my previous position?"

he frowns, but before he can speak, you interrupt him. you haven't seen veritas since being tied down to your current post. you haven't let him have it. he deserves it, maybe.

"i heard from jade that i received a glowing recommendation from another well-respected scholar. apparently, the position was being considered for either one of us. somehow, with that recommendation, i drew the short end of the stick and now play handler for a man with a death wish and a statistically measurable chaos quotient that's ever-changing in multiples of three."

veritas's face is unmoving. unchanging. but you know you've struck something. it was to be him or you in this position. and you don't have the pride he does. you place your hand over top of his, posed to speak, to tear him apart—

a shrill ringtone shatters the tension. it's yours. you already know who it is.

you flip your phone open with one hand, still staring at ratio.

"hello," aventurine's voice beckons from the other side, smug and smooth. "where is my favorite, most brilliant mind hiding out? we're due to leave soon."

"sadly, with another one of your favorite, brilliant minds. i'll be finished up shortly and meet you at the docks."

"aw, did he not get onboard? that's quite the choice for him to be making. do you want me to give him a talking to you?"

"no, it's fine. i'm working something out."

"you sound upset."

"i'm tired." you rub at your eyes and break away from veritas with a yawn.

"you can nap on the ship. we have quite the journey."

"that we do. i'll see you in a bit?"

"see you there." you can hear the smirk in his voice.

sending you down to veritas alone was aventurine's gamble. one that is working out, predictably. never mind the damage your reputation will take after these next moments. you close the phone with a sigh and begin toward the grand elevator.

"veritas," you call his name. "i forgive you, for what it's worth. try not to do it again."

"i couldn't."

you laugh and shake your head as you ascend. by the time you arrive at the docks, the ipc's premier vessel is packed away and priming its engines. lights and sirens echo from it. aventurine's idles outside, waiting for you. he beams when he sees you.

"so," he whistles, guiding you with a hand on your lower back. you let him. "was the good doctor as prickly as ever?”

"if not more so" you admit. aventurine gestures with a sweeping hand to your shared quarters for the time being. there's a single bed, but you're used to this. you've come not to mind it. "i think i bruised his ego."

with a genuine laugh, “i don’t think that's possible."

"want to bet on that?" you ask.

your phone's text tone chimes and you shoot aventurine a sharp smile.

aventurine's odds are ridiculous. ever changing, constantly moving. none of your perceptions and calculations that are usually steadfast and unmoving can keep up with him. not with efficiency, anyways. it's exhausting work. however, the likelihoods of everything but aventurine? the predictions of a man like ratio?

easy. simple. you could do them in your sleep.

aventurine squishes against your side as you open your newest message.

[SENDER: Doctor Ratio <intelligentsia guild>]

> here is a first draft. forgo payment. i do not need to be in the stonehearts’ pocket.

[file attached: STONE ALGORITHM DRAFT 1.0.spqxxxiun.pqo]

aventurine laughs, muffling it against the side of your neck. his teeth are sharp and his breath is warm. it settles something in you. you lean into him and deflate, sliding down into your lap so your head is pillows there. a gloved hand cards through your hair.

"you're quite good at the game, when you choose to play." aventurine reminds you. he tells you this often.

"i know." you turn your face into his hand as the ship rumbles. "but it's your job."

aventurine pauses his pets, then thumbs over your lips. he looks sour, only for a moment, before resuming his motions, a bit rougher this time. you relish the feel of it, sinking into it.

"one of us has to, right?"

"right."

"and the other," he taps your lips. your sputter, indignant. "plays support."

"one of us has to." you remind him.

it's silent between the two of you as the ship whirs and bellows, taking off from herta's space station without reverie. onto your next destination, wherever aventurine is deigned to be needed, with you by his side, dutifully.

you press your face into his stomach, letting the smell of linen and his cologne envelope you.

neither of you have a choice to play this game. the cards are stacked, and you best not loose count from aventurine's side. you'll be damned if you do.

(there is a 98.769% chance that you are damned regardless.)

at least, at least, you have each other, you think as aventurine bundles you up closer, and you wrap yourself around him. you'll take that, for as long as it lasts.

[cushfuddled]

I saw a post which claimed since Americans are spending unprecedented amounts of money on holiday gifts this year [1][2]...

the American public isn't actually as strapped for cash as we say or think we are, and

Americans didn’t vote for Trump out of economic frustration.

Like.

I hope you guys know Americans aren't splurging on gifts because we can afford to do so.

The majority of Americans live paycheck to paycheck [3], and yet vacations are on the rise, with Millennials and Gen Z-ers at the front of the trend. [4][5]

It’s not excess capital. It’s nihilism.[6][7][8]

"If you work hard and save your money, someday you can buy a house/raise a family/retire." So goes the conventional wisdom, now fine viscera under the wheels of an Amazon forklift. Even older generations can't afford to retire these days [9]. You can buy a shed for the price of a master's degree. And how are you supposed to raise a child when your full-time job barely covers your grocery bills?

Knowing they'll never travel as a retiree, people are splurging on plane tickets right out of school. Knowing class mobility is a lottery pull, people are dumping their last few pennies into meme tokens and other get-rich-quick schemes. Knowing they're already saddled with lifelong debt, people are saying "fuck it" and grabbing a shovel—because at this point, what's a car payment on top of every other loan they'll never repay? "Things will keep getting worse anyway."

Americans are spending stupid amounts of money on vacations [10] and extravagant gifts [11], yes—but they're not spending THEIR money. They're spending Klarna's money, and the bank's money, and when the bills come due people aren't paying them. We're all just doing kickflips on our way down the drain.

The question, "How does killing the UnitedHealthCare CEO solve anything?" misses the point. The shooter may have believed he was doing the American people a favor, but I don't think the majority of Americans are cheering on Brian's death because they believe it will manifest universal healthcare. It's just nice to see the rich criminals who profit off our pain suffer for their choices.

Even if the Dems had acknowledged our financial straits (I find Atrioc's video "Slowly, Then All at Once" to be very helpful re: why the numbers look good but nobody can afford to live)...I still don't think Kamala Harris would've won the presidency. Again, Americans don't believe progress is possible anymore—at least not via our current system of government. Extremists are banking on a wholesale descent into anarchy. Your everyday worker is distracting themselves from impending financial implosion with daily Beverages (I'm stopping here to take a sip of my Rockstar energy drink). Hope is a heavy burden. Instead, people keep their eyes on their feet. One day at a time. Sometimes on its way to the brick wall, their speeding car hits a CEO—and sometimes it mows down a crowd of schoolchildren. Sometimes we're all just trashing the bathroom.

That's Donald Trump's presidential win, to me. Let the horse take over the hospital, America declared—why not, if none of us can afford a hospital visit anyway. Let the nation descend into anarchy and fascism—why not, if we never had rights/liberty to begin with.

It's not logical. It's lashing out in pain like a cornered animal.

The rule of law doesn't apply to the wealthy, as emblemized by our incumbent president's 34 felony charges. It punishes the marginalized by design, for the benefit of corrupt institutions. Harris would've given us a chance to get back on our feet...but with her centrist prosecutorial approach, she represents the law. Donald Trump represents chaos. He's a champion of the CEOs who bankrupt and maim and kill us, but as a certifiable toddler with no object permanence and a suitcase full of ketchup packets and nuclear launch codes, he's also a fucking nightmare to babysit around the White House. That's the best some people can hope for in this country: To give their tormentors a headache. To "trigger the libs." To treat their representatives to the smallest taste of their own helplessness and hopelessness and fear and anger and pain.

People do not have money. People do not have hope. People do not have compassion.

I don't feel any sympathy for Trump voters, and I don't mean to minimize the role of bigotry in this election. This country was founded on genocide and slavery, and that legacy still permeates our culture. I only mean to explain—not excuse—some of this group's behavior. It's a trend suffered on all sides of the aisle: Nihilism externalized as sabotage, whether directed at oneself or others. People are so sick of watching this boat sink into the ocean they've set it on fire just to feel like they had a say in it.

[heavenbarnes]

Run the pass

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x GN!Reader x Sydney Adamu

Warnings/Contains: reader is gender-neutral (no pronouns or descriptions of their genitals), swearing, allusions to alcohol, brief and non-descriptive mentions of vomiting, Claire exists, reader doesn't necessarily treat Syd the way she deserves, penetrative sex (with no mentions of protection), oral sex (reader and Syd receiving), coming inside, dirty talk.

Word Count: 7k

I have had this idea in my head for an AGE and I'm so glad I finally get to write it. In my head, the threesome didn't happen but I think it was a lovely addition. God, I just need these two like water.

This kitchen sounds like home.

Sure, there's a whirring noise coming from the walk in chiller. Sure, Richie is going waxing-lyrical at Fak over the score of some ball game. Sure, the grill spits like a dragon at the gates of doom.

But this kitchen sounds like home.

It's full of flavour, and friends, and- well, Carmy's in it.

You can only see the back of him, the white t-shirt stretched across his shoulders. You can see the backs of his arms moving as he plates the next meal. But it makes you smile, just inwardly, as you fold the mixture in the steel bowl in front of you.

When you look up again, Sydney's beside him. She's pushing another plate towards him and they're shoulder to shoulder. They work so perfectly in-sync that your smile widens.

Tina catches it, nudging you with her hip as she walks past you. "Wish somebody would look at me like that."

You just shake your head, putting it down to focus on your food in front of you as you keep working. By the time you pick your head back up, you see that Carmy's looking back at you over his shoulder.

Looking into Carmy's eyes is like staring into the sun, all consuming and a little blinding. If it'd been any different, you would've seen Sydney watching you over his other shoulder.

-

Carmy is a good boss, he's firm but fair. Firm but fair.

Working in his kitchen is one of the best gigs that ever fell in your lap. He wasn't even the one to hire you, go figure.

His brother, Michael, he hired you. You'd come in to put your name in the running for the kitchen-hand position they were advertising for. He saw something different.

That's how you ended up working the register.

Not exactly what you had in mind when you'd applied at the restaurant but, money is money and it was nearly impossible to find a job in this city. Also, Michael had told you that once folks walked past and saw you in the front window? Customers would come running.

You figured it wasn't worth the argument, and who knows? Maybe you could've impressed him enough to make your way into the kitchen.

Then things went and changed on you, Michael up and made his big decision and here you were on the register with his younger brother running the kitchen you so badly wanted to break into.

Carmy needed to find his feet in this place, understand how the sausage gets made. So you didn't fuss about your role, it was easier to let things lie as they were and maybe bring it up later on.

It wasn't even you that brought it up, it was Sydney.

"God knows we need more help in the kitchen but no, let's keep the register covered!" She threw up her hands with an exasperated groan.

Carmy's face scrunched in confusion, looking towards the wall as if he could somehow see through it and visualise you out the front.

He spoke your name like a question, one that Sydney was very quick to answer.

"Carmy, please tell me you're not serious?" She even laughed a little as she picked up the cloth on her shoulder and threw it at the man. "Have you two even spoken once?"

And then it was Carmy that finally brought it up with you, calling you into his office as he heard you getting ready to leave for the night.

You poked your head into the small room and smiled at him. "Yes, chef?"

He waved you in, turning his seat around till he was facing you. Carmy was hunched over, obviously tired with his elbows resting on his knees.

"Why didn't you tell me you graduated from Kendall?"

Your mouth suddenly felt dry, eyes going wide like you'd been caught out in some kind of lie. You hadn't really lied, had you? Just maybe not told him the whole truth.

"Well, I-uh-" You stuttered your way through, hoping he'd just give up and drop it.

Carmy was a surprisingly patient man.

Your voice could hardly be called more than a whisper as you spoke. "I told Michael."

Confusion was written on his face as his brow furrowed. "What?"

"He just thought I'd be better as front of house, thought maybe the customers would enjoy something nice to look at."

Carmy felt his eye twitch, his elbows nearly shattered his femurs as he his whole body went rigid. "Excuse me?"

He wasn't even sure why he'd asked that last part, it wasn't like he was listening. As you babbled away in the doorway, all Carmy could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

Michael had said what? From the moment Carmy laid eyes on you he had wished nobody else could. He didn't want a single person to be able to look at you the way he did, he wanted you all to himself.

And his older brother was happy to let any of the bastards off the street look you up and down through the front window? He actually encouraged it?

Carmy stood up quickly, maybe too quickly, he felt like his head was spinning off his shoulders. As his heart nearly burst out his chest he realised what he needed. Keeping his head low, he turned to look at you and suddenly felt it.

The world slowed down a little bit, everything settled back nicely into place. You were smiling, albeit nervously, but you were there and you were smiling.

Carmy ran a large hand over his face as he spoke matter-of-factly.

"I want you in the kitchen starting tomorrow morning," His eyes locked onto yours. "Chef."

-

You didn't really remember where it started, well- you kind of did. You think it might've been a late night, both of you the last to leave the kitchen and you'd been talking each other's ears off like you usually do.

Carmy definitely made the first move, there was no doubt about it. You seemed to think he'd had your hips pinned to the edge of one of the stainless steel benches as he caught your lips with his own.

You'd felt the firm muscle of his neck beneath your hands as you cradled him like he was precious. Well, to you at least, he was precious.

It'd ended with him walking you to his office, making you kneel in his chair as he took you from behind. You remembered his hands closing over yours, where they gripped the back of the chair, fingers locking with yours.

You remember the flashes of his tattoos as he dropped one of his hands in front of you, sliding down your front to the centre of your thighs- how his hips didn't falter once as his stroked you to perfection.

Everything Carmy did was perfection.

His food made your eyes roll back in your head, his movements could make your mouth water, his words could have your whole body twitching,

In your eyes, Carmy was built on a pillar of perfection.

Not that he'd ever see it, anyways.

You'd both done your best to keep your private lives private, but this kitchen, this kitchen felt like family. It wasn't long before the glances between you both, the poorly timed arrivals and departures from the place began to add up.

Sydney was the first to notice, she didn't even say a word. She'd just seen the way you looked at him, how you'd light up when he praised your food, how your body reacted when he'd place a hand on your back to move behind.

Sydney was always observant when it came to you.

She didn't need to say anything, anyway. Tina coined on soon enough and then it was all over. Obviously, she told Richie, who told Fak, and the rest was history.

You and Carmy never confirmed or denied at work, but at least you didn't need to try and hide the way you felt about him. If they saw you kiss in the car before work, everyone just let it be (most of the time anyway, Jerimovich).

The confirmation never came because, well, you'd also never confirmed it just the both of you. He wasn't your boyfriend, there was no real label to what was happening.

You were two people who wanted everything to do with one another and very much enjoyed the other's company. That was simply that.

Any given night of the week, you could be found curled up on Carmy's chest either at his apartment or yours. Any of the other nights, you were probably underneath him or perched in his lap crying his name.

Neither of you felt the need to force a label on it.

-

By the time Claire showed up, things had become- different?

Carmy had been good about it, really good about it, he'd told you straight away that he'd seen her again and he had feelings for her. You'd both spoken at lengths over the dinner table about what this meant and the decision was mutual.

There was no label on it, he never belonged to you.

The rest of the family were harder to convince that this was for the best. Richie had actually walked out when you'd explained that you and Carmy had stopped 'seeing' each other.

Sydney couldn't deny she'd felt initial shock about it, too. It sort of blindsided her, but then there was a little something in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't- wouldn't name.

It was actually her that tried to have the 'come to Jesus' speech with you about Carmy.

"I'm not above begging, you need to start fucking that man again."

You nearly spat your coffee out, leaning against the front counter watching Sydney pace back and forth. "What on earth are you-"

"It was so much easier when it was you and Carmy," She stopped in her tracks, turning on her heel to look at you. "Since Claire turned up he's been impossible."

Even you had to admit that you'd noticed a change in Carmy since Claire showed up. He was so distant, he was hard to tie down, he seemed more on edge. He reminded you more of the Carmy that first arrived at this restaurant all that time ago.

It was a shame, you thought, he'd been doing so well.

You wiped a drip of coffee off the side of your mug as you placed it down beside you. "I really don't think me fucking Carmy is the answer."

Sydney gave a small shrug that almost came off as agreement. She wouldn't say it out loud but it definitely wasn't her first option, it wasn't even her second. If Sydney had it her way, she didn't want to think about Carmy's hands on you again.

And she'd thought about it. A lot.

"Something has to give, I don't think I can handle him canceling one more plan."

You sighed, a full-chested sigh that conveyed you felt her frustration. Pushing yourself off the counter, you placed a hand on Sydney's shoulder. If you were her, you would've felt the pure electricity that radiated off your touch.

"I'll at least talk to him, how about that?"

The talk didn't really do much. Carmy promised to do better, there was an apology in there somewhere. But you come to find out days later that'd he'd bitched out on another plan with Sydney.

Men, can't live with them!

It was in his office (without him of course, he was with Claire) with Sugar and Sydney that you'd all made up your minds. Well, you planted the idea and it grew from there.

"Lets just go get a drink, I don't think tonight is worth wasting any more energy."

Sugar jumped at the chance, already walking back out front to grab her purse. Sydney needed a little more convincing, her spirits a little crushed and her soul a little tired.

You'd managed to hush her up, giving her marching orders to get in your car and look like she was enjoying herself. Which, she ended up doing.

The booth was a little sticky and the music was a little shitty, the lights were so dim you could hardly see but you were having fun. Even Sydney had to admit she was having fun.

"Okay, fine! I'm having fun!"

Sugar let out a squeal of excitement, bringing your glasses together to cheers. "Here's to forgetting my little shit of a brother!"

After she said it, she turned to you with an apology on her tongue. "Oops."

You laughed it off, raising your glass and taking a sip. "No harm done, remember, we were-"

"Never togetherrrr." Sugar finished for you. "So you keep saying."

You just shook your head, calling the waitress over for another round. You ordered for yourself and Sydney before Sugar stopped you from getting hers. "Don't worry, Pete's on his way."

The three of you needed each other, needed this bond, needed these drinks, needed this moment. Regardless of your feelings towards Carmy, you'd all been scorned by him in some way, shape, or form.

It even felt good to hear Sydney get her real feelings off her chest.

"And you know what? Not to sound un-girls-girl, but fuck Claire!"

It was met with a quiet "fuck her!" from Sugar.

"She comes to the restaurant, she's just staaaaanding there, she knows she's taking up all his time."

All of you needed to get it out, you maybe the least. You knew it was hard for everyone else to understand, but you really didn't hold any resentment towards Carmy. Maybe a little, for leaving the kitchen high and dry. But really, you just enjoyed the memories of you two.

You and Sydney were a halfway through your new drinks when Sugar stood from the booth, grabbing her bag.

"Alright, I love you two more than life itself but I must depart!" You laughed as the tequila spoke for her.

"Bye, Shug!" You called after her as she waved and blew kisses at the both of you before disappearing through the door.

Leaving just you and Sydney alone at the table, you smiled at her as she intensely studied the grain of the wood. Sooner or later, she looked up and caught your gaze.

"Are you actually okay with Carmy and Claire?"

You smiled, earnestly. "Yes, I'm frustrated that it's upsetting you, but I'm inherently fine with it."

Sydney swallowed hard, you would've been able to hear it if the Brooks & Dunn in the bar wasn't so loud. She rolled the edge of her glass around the table before she spoke up.

"I just don't know how he's so okay with it."

You immediately thought she meant his letting the restaurant slide. But you knew Sydney, you knew her just enough that you could tell there was something sitting below the surface. You cared enough to implore it.

"Okay with what?"

She pulled her lip between her teeth before she looked up at you, like she was staring into the sun.

"With letting you go."

Your face softened, enough that she noticed. But Sydney also quickly noticed that it was a look of pity. That stung enough to make tears well on her waterline.

Pulling your jacket over your shoulders, you began to shuffle out of the booth. "I'll settle the tab and then I'll drive you home."

Sydney had never felt more like a tall child.

The lights of Chicago blurred past her eyes as you weaved through the streets. It wasn't lost on Sydney that you drove with one hand, the one closest to her was free and resting on your thigh.

She wanted nothing more than to reach over and hold onto it, maybe move it to her own thigh. As if you could read her mind, she caught the way your eyes flickered over to hers.

Slowly but surely, you lifted your free hand but instead brought it to the dial on the radio. As you turned it, she could hear the music in the car consuming her.

'And when I'm back in Chicago I feel it...'

She expected you to pull your hand back to your own leg but instead you reached over the gap of the centre console. Your hand brushed against hers as you took hold of it, squeezing it once and leaving the weight of it in hers.

Sydney knew that she had her chance, so she simply squeezed back and wrapped her other hand around yours with it. She held you tightly, like you were precious. Because you were.

She rested your hands in her lap, leaving them there against the soft fabric of her trousers as you continued you navigate the streets with one hand. When you pulled up outside her house, Sydney physically felt herself deflate.

Not only did you have to draw your hand back to kill the ignition, you'd reached the destination. It was up to her now to pull herself from the warm hold of your car and retreat to her room alone.

She weighed up the level of damage involved with throwing all caution to the wind right now. She figured she could just turn to you and let it out. Sydney could do something for herself for once.

As she balled up the courage in her chest, she didn't realise how long you'd both been sitting in silence until you finally spoke.

"Are you going to invite me up?"

-

And then Carmy loses his rag when he's locked in the chiller.

He laments about his failures, how much Claire had blinded him. He'd thrown your name in the mix, he'd apologised (for whatever reason) and decided his great epiphany.

If he'd never left you then none of this would've happened.

You weren't sure if he meant locking himself in the chiller or just everything in general. You weren't even in the kitchen at the time, this was all secondhand from Richie.

At the time Carmy was bearing his heart and soul to you, you were out the back of the restaurant holding back Sydney's braids as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

"I'm so sorry, this is so gross-"

"Don't apologise to me, how long has this been going on?"

The sound of the door screeching open tore your attention back over your shoulder.

"You really need to get in here- oh, what the fuck?"

"Richie, shut the fuck up. Can you get us some water?"

He grimaced a little at the sight in front of him but you pushed him with a flash of anger across your face. Yes, it was gross, but there weren't that many parts of Sydney you weren't fond of.

Even the ones that weren't pretty.

By the time Richie had come out with the water glass, he'd pressed even further how much you needed to get back into that kitchen. You knew it must've been bad if he wasn't even willing to tell you the details.

When you saw Claire by the chiller, you were moments away from asking for an explanation. You swallowed the words quickly as her face lit up in a hot rage, wet with tears. Before you could even think, she was turning on her heel to march out of the kitchen and back through the dining room.

What the actual fuck was happening?

It was a messy wee thing for you all to deal with, but deal with it you did. Sure, there was irreparable damage between Claire and Carmy (and you, by association), but the kitchen was stronger than ever.

And Sydney was happy again, back to having Carmy's attention and support at work. You saw the way she moved, her shoulders free of tension as she worked at her station. You just liked seeing her happy.

Sydney was happy, she was very pleased to be rid of the distraction that was forcing the kitchen apart. However, there was a gnawing little pit of jealousy that lived in her stomach and threatened to force its way out.

With Claire gone, there was nothing keeping you and Carmy apart.

She'd had you once, one perfect night. You'd been splayed out in the centre of her bed, her name falling off your lips as she settled in between your legs. She'd had a taste of you, and you weren't something she could just be okay with letting go of.

You were built from perfection.

So she waited, she waited for the other shoe to drop. There is always another shoe. Sure enough, no matter how hard Sydney tried to hide from it, it inevitably found her.

You and Carmy had arrived in the morning, same time, already laughing about something as you came through the door. That's all she needed, that feeling in her stomach expanded until she could barely breathe.

She caught the way Tina smiled at you both, a knowing smile. That cemented it for Sydney, if Tina had noticed it too, there was no doubt that it was unfolding in front of her and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it.

And why should she stop it? You were happy! So was Carmy! And he was back to being fully present in the kitchen just like she wanted. But she'd be damned if she could get the thoughts of him touching you out of her head.

Touching you like she wanted to do. Like she'd done once, so fucking well.

Sydney wondered if Carmy really cared when he touched you? From the moment she held you she knew she wanted nobody else to do it, not the way she had. And now knowing that she had to share you? She felt like her head was going to spin right off.

She wondered what'd happen, when you finally told Carmy about what happened between the two of you. If you even would tell him. Did it mean as much to you as it did to her? Did it cross your mind every night like it did hers? Did you touch yourself as you lay in bed, reminiscing over that night like she did?

Probably not, she decided. You probably had Carmy to touch you, to hold you, and that would be consuming your mind. Sydney figured herself out to be an afterthought, a fun night that was never meant to become anything else.

When everyone was shutting the kitchen down and you were walking towards her across the dining room, Sydney braced for the worst. Silently, you helped her with the place settings until you spoke up.

"I told Carmy about us, about you and I."

In some sick way, all Sydney could really focus on was the fact that, even in the smallest form, there was an 'us.'

Without lifting her head, she continued to work on the cutlery. "And what does he think?"

You snorted a quiet laugh through your nose, a sound that should not have made flowers bloom in Sydney's chest. She couldn't breathe.

"He was jealous, I don't think he liked the idea of someone touching me like he does."

Sydney couldn't stop herself before her mouth opened. "Wonder what that's like."

In her peripheral vision, she could see your whole body still. Slowly, she trailed her eyes up the length of your body until they fixed on your face. Wounded, you looked wounded.

A sicker part of Sydney liked the idea of you finally knowing how she felt.

"I am so sorry, I never meant-"

"No, it's fine-" She cut you off, standing up to full height and brushing her hands on the front of her chef's whites. "I should've never got so attached."

"Sydney, please let me-"

"It was always meant to be you and Carmy, and now it is. Anyways, isn't this what I wanted?"

As she begin to walk away, leaving you alone in the dining room, Sydney mulled the same question over in her head.

Isn't this what she wanted?

-

"I just feel fucking terrible."

Your hands splayed out against Carmy's chest, fine hairs under your fingertips and inky tattoo's muddling against your skin. He held you so tightly as you rolled your hips in his lap.

"Don't worry about it, baby." He responded, breath a little clipped as he fucked up into you. "She said it's what she wanted."

You rolled your eyes before your eyes rolled back, Carmy's cock hitting the exact spot you needed it to. "You didn't see the look on her face or hear the way she said it-"

"To be honest, sweetheart, I don't really want to be visualising Syd when I'm balls deep in you."

Snapping your gaze down to his, you realised pretty quickly that you shouldn't have. Carmy looked incredible, eyes blown out, sheen of sweat across his skin as he put all his energy into fucking you. Ignoring the pang it sent to your stomach, you used the leverage of his shoulders to bounce on him.

"I really fucked up, Carm. I knew how much she was into me and I was selfish about it."

You couldn't really be sure he was listening to you, with the way his hands were running up your front to tweak at your nipples. You tried not to give away what it was doing to you, but a few whimpers escaped your lips, regardless.

It wasn't lost on you the way the corner of Carmy's lip quirked up at that. He took his eyes off your body to fix on your own, fighting for your attention as he kept rolling your hips against his.

"Selfish? What were you missing me or something?"

Your eyes narrowed at him, hand leaving his shoulder to playfully smack his cheek. It immediately conjured a groan from deep within his chest, a sound that hit you right in the middle of your stomach and made your hips falter.

"You're bad, Carmen."

"Yeah?" He questioned you, hands gripping your hips to lift you slightly, increasing the pace of his own thrusts. "Well you're worse."

You wanted to argue with him, you had it on the tip of your tongue but the minute he started jackhammering his hips into you- it was gone in an instant.

"Missed me so fucking bad that you got into bed with Sydney. You laid back and let her put her mouth all over you, because you couldn't get what you wanted from me."

The words were crazy, he was speaking pure insanity but the way his cock hit deep inside you was enough to curb your arguing. The minute you tried to open your mouth, a pathetic moan slipped right off your tongue.

"Thaaaat's right," He cooed, goading you into more embarrassing little sounds. "You missed the way this felt so you had to go get it wherever you could."

It was a lot, it was nearly too much for you to handle. Right as you thought you were slipping, that he was going to win eternal bragging rights, you found your own again. Tensing tight, you made sure to choke Carmy's cock on his next thrust.

The man beneath you froze, eyes rolling back and hips stuttering as you clenched around him. Finding yourself, you pressed your hands back on his pecs as you bounced in his lap.

"Not quite, Carmen," His name dripping like silk off your tongue. "Sure, you might've decided to fuck off on me but it's not like I was hard up on options."

Carmy tried to respond, but it was his turn for the words to get lost in his throat. His hips bucked up into you, cock twitching at the feeling of you gripping him even tighter.

"Look at me," You ordered, his eyes shooting open to take in the sight of you above him. "Do you really think someone that looks like me, looks as good as I do right now would be hard up?"

You caught the slight shake of his head, the way his hands fixed back on your waist and pulled you down on him with every bounce. He was desperate, the way he speared you straight on his cock was sending shockwaves right through you but you fought to remain in control.

"I could've had anyone I wanted and I chose Sydney, because I've seen the way she looks at me."

You leaned down, lips up close to his ear as you spoke. This close, you could hear him whimpering for you, the heady sounds emanating from within him.

"I fucked Sydney because I needed someone to treat me the way I deserve. When she had her mouth on me, it felt like I was being worshipped."

Carmy squirmed under you, you'd been in this position enough times to know exactly what was going to happen. His lips fell open and the string of incoherent moans you'd know him for began sounding.

"And you know what, Carmen?"

You could hear him chanting quiet little sounds of 'what, tell me baby?' as you spurred him on.

"I think you both need to learn how to share."

A visual splashed across Carmy's mind. The sight of you, face down ass up. Your mouth between Sydney's spread legs as her head crushed into the pillow. Carmy's hands pulling your hips back onto his as he fucked you roughly from behind. The both of them sharing you.

All of a sudden, Carmy pulled you down into his lap and launched his hips up. His head tipped back, his mouth fell open as he came deep inside you. Your name was the only thing he remembered how to say as he shot several hot ropes of cum into you.

The sight of it was something to behold, your hand falling down to rub between your legs as you felt him finish in you. It was all enough to push you right over the edge, head dropping into the crook of his neck as you reached your own peak.

As you came down, you felt Carmy's hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. The blood rushing around your ears was dissipating and you could only just register he was speaking.

"Huh?" You asked quietly, lips gently pressing against the skin of his shoulder.

"You can have it," He repeated, fingernails gently scratching up your spine. "Whatever you want, you can have it."

-

Apologies were an uncomfortable beast. Carmy was coming to terms with them a little better, after a bit of self reflection. He figured they made him uncomfortable because they were necessary.

For you, you were feeling lucky that Sydney was the forgiving type. You’d fully expected her to ask you to go fuck yourself when you’d attempted your apologies. Nice enough, she’d been quick to forgive.

In her eyes, she just wanted whatever part of you she could get her hands on.

That was probably why she was here right now. Back in this bar with you, the bar that (as far as she was concerned) was the beginning of everything.

That’s why she was also astonishingly fine with Carmy being here too. She was even sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. It was then you noticed they were moving in sync, the way they both raised their glasses to their lips at the same time.

Your eyes flickered back and forth between the two, shitty music making up for the lack of conversation and dim light dancing across the both of them.

They looked good this way, this is how they were almost meant to look. Content? Beautiful?

Looking like everything you ever wanted.

So it was a natural course of events, when the three of you later burst through the door of Carmy’s bedroom. You stopped at the end of his bed, trapped between the two of them.

Carmy’s chest to your back, Sydney pressing firmly to your front. Trapped.

Trapped, but completely willing.

Hot, physically and theoretically. The heat that was radiating off the both of them was consuming you. Sydney's hands were desperately working up the front of your shirt, feeling across your chest to cover any stretch of skin that she could.

Carmy's hands were on the waist of your jeans, undoing the button and fly as he dove down the front of them. His strong, skilled fingers felt you through the thin barrier of your underwear.

Your head tipped back, resting on one of Carmy's shoulders. Sydney took her chance, bridging the gap and closing her lips on your throat. You could feel her sucking at the skin, teeth gently running along the column of your throat.

The unmistakable feeling of Carmy hardening against your ass was ever present in the back of your mind. As Sydney worked you up, Carmy was pushing your jeans down your thighs, pressing his cock further into the split of your ass.

His lips came to your left ear, you could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke. "You look so fucking good like this, feel so fucking good."

As his fingers began to breach the front of your underwear, it was Sydney that was making moves on your right ear. "Been dying to taste you again, once wasn't ever gonna' be enough."

Your hips bucked up into Carmy's hand as he stroked you slowly, Sydney's teeth gently gripping your earlobe. It was overwhelming, the bother of you whispering exactly what you needed to hear, working together.

They worked well together, one glimpse into the kitchen and you could tell they worked well together. But even now, the way they were touching you, talking to you- they were the perfect team.

"On the bed, sweetheart." Carmy spoke as he drew his hands from your underwear.

Sydney stepped aside to let you move, watching you kick off your jeans as you moved to the bed. She moved towards you briefly, helping you pull your shirt off over your head and throw it to the side.

As she moved back beside Carmy, you stared up at the both of them under half-lidded eyes. Carmy had stripped down to his underwear, a large hand gently palming his cock through his briefs. He moved to the end of the bed, gripping your ankle and pulling you towards him.

"Get down here, Syd." He ordered, as if they were running the pass.

She was quick to follow the order, kneeling down beside him with her hand wrapping around your other leg. They both pulled you in closer, Carmy taking the initiative to get rid of your underwear.

Sydney reached forward, her hand running up your stomach gently enough to leave goosebumps. "You're un-fucking-believable."

You laughed, just quietly, head rolling around on the mattress as they both stared at you like your next meal. Not waiting for another instruction, Sydney brought her mouth against your entrance and gave you one long lick.

Head tipping back, hips raising, your mouth flew open with a string of moans. Her tongue was unbelievable, moving across you quickly but not failing to miss a single spot.

You could feel the familiar prodding of Carmy's fingers, moving under Sydney's tongue so they could work together. Two of his thick fingers breached your entrance, curling up as Sydney's tongue kept up it's ministrations.

"That feel good, baby?" Carmy's voice snapped you back into reality. "Feel good when we share you?"

All you could do was nod, nod furiously as you rolled your hips down to feel more of their combined efforts. Your hand gently reached behind Sydney's head, pulling her in closer till you were effectively humping her face.

"Yeah, that's right- let her have it." Carmy cooed, his fingers still pumping into you whilst his other hand was pressed to his crotch.

Sydney only moaned, the vibrations hitting you straight on and sending a surge to the pit of your stomach. Carmy could feel the way you were clenching, being well versed with your body he knew exactly what was on the way.

So when you whined at the feeling of him withdrawing his fingers, he was quick to shut you up by man-handling you up the bed. "Hush, you're so fuckin' spoilt."

And you knew he was right, everything you wanted you always got it. That's why you were settled back against the pillows, watching him strip off his boxers whilst Sydney's shirt was being discarded.

You quietly slipped a hand between your legs, gathering the wetness from Sydney's spit to rub yourself. Your eyes fluttered, head tipping back into the plush bed as you watched Sydney reveal more skin to you.

"Baby can't even wait a fuckin' minute?" Carmy questioned, kneeling on the bed to grip your hips.

In a swift motion, he flipped you over. Still holding your hips, he pulled them up until you were face down with your back arched. He could always get you exactly how he wanted you.

Sydney came around the bed, sitting in front you with her hand coming to cup your jaw. "You deserve everything you want."

As she cooed at you, she leaned in just enough to press her lips against yours. You could hear the sigh from Carmy, no doubt rolling his eyes as Sydney quickly gave into you.

Sydney knew your games just as well as he did. Difference was, she didn't mind. She'd feed into you for as long as you let her.

Your mouth dropped and a moan slipped onto Sydney's tongue as you felt the head of Carmy's cock pressing against your entrance. As he eased into you, your eyes began to roll back, hands shooting out to grip Sydney's thighs.

"Want- ah fuck- want to taste you." Your voice sounded breathy and desperate.

Sydney eased herself back, legs spreading around you as you hungrily dove to get your tongue on her. Without wasting a second, you ran your tongue from her entrance to her clit and listened keenly for the sounds she made.

Looking up from under your tired eyes, you saw the blissed expression on her face. Both your arms hooked around her thighs, lips closing around her clit to suck gently.

Carmy fully sunk himself into you, giving you a second to adjust to the stretch. Soon, he was rolling his hips in a steady rhythm that was sending you even closer to Sydney's cunt.

You felt a large hand splay across your lower back, Carmy soothing you as he began to speed up. He fucked you hard, watching the way you clenched around his cock and moved your head quicker between Sydney's legs.

This is what he'd imagined, this was exactly what he'd thought of that night (and honestly, a couple of other times in the shower before work). This was a sight he could get used to.

Carmy wasn't all too keen on sharing you, he had an underlying penchant for jealousy when it came to you. But as he watched Sydney cup a hand around the back of your head, as he heard you moan directly into her core, as he watched you fuck yourself back onto him.

He figured this was definitely worth a little hit of jealousy.

Sydney's hips rolled up to meet your mouth, her backside lifting off the bed as she pulled you down against her. Quiet little whimpers of your name were drifting perfectly off her lips. Her eyes were switching between fluttering shut and fixing dreamily on you.

You could feel the hint of your release working it's way up your body. Strengthening your grip on Sydney's thighs, you pulled her in tight so you could suck at her clit, listening for what it did to her.

"Holy- fuck- oh God- I'm gonna' cum-"

Looking up at her, you found her eyes on yours. Drawing back just a little, you laid your tongue flat against her before running it up, flicking the tip of it against her clit and watching her eyes screw shut.

Sydney rode your face through her orgasm, the feeling running red hot through you. You could hear the faint sounds of Carmy talking you through it. "That's it, make her cum- you're doing so good."

His words were too much, coupled with the taste of Sydney on your tongue and the feeling of her gripping tight onto you. Your hips began to roll back against Carmy, desperately searching for the relief you needed.

Feeling his hand wrap underneath you, Carmy began stroking you towards your orgasm. His chest came to press against your back as he spoke in your ear. "Come on, baby- that's it- cum for us."

Eyes going a blinding white, you felt yourself collapsing into Sydney's lap as your orgasm overtook you. Gripping tight around Carmy, you threw your hips back against him as he pressed himself flush to you.

You felt him twitch inside you, a string of curses leaving his lips as he came for you. You felt his hot cum hitting deep inside of you, leaving you feeling completely full. All you had left to do was fall, splayed out, in the centre of the bed, totally fucked out.

Carmy was the one that cleaned you up, but it was Sydney that brought you the glass of water and tucked you up. You felt her soft kisses against your forehead and by the time you opened your eyes, you could see she was already fully dressed.

You reached out for her, grasping her hand gently before mumbling something about "we should do this again."

Faint sounds of her laughing about that with Carmy caught your ears, but the sleep was taking over too much for you to be able to understand the joke.

When Carmy joined you in bed, wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you close to him, you managed one more mumble before you finally crashed out.

"You guys work really, really, well together."

[biird-rot]

Leon Kennedy is Autistic: An Analysis by an Autistic Person

DISCLAIMER: This post and all the points I make are highly based on my OWN experiences. I often find parallels between my experiences as a disabled individual and characters I love to help me better cope with and process my feelings. Hate will not be tolerated!!!

Before I get started, I’d like to say that this is not even me scratching the SURFACE of the things I could analyze about Leon and apply to various autistic experiences, this is mostly just the things that resonate with me the most.

Parallel Play/Preferring to Work Alone

It could be attributed to trauma, and the fact he works in a government agency, but Leon has always been the flying solo type. Missions in which it would be better if multiple people worked on it (RE4) HOWEVER! Whenever he does work with others, he often goes off on his own and leaves whoever he's with to deal with what's there (DI, Leon going off immediately after being vaccinated by Rebecca)

Difficulty Communicating/Identifying Emotions

This also plays into the difficulty making friends and maintaining friendships aspect of being autistic. There isn't any direct/obvious representations of this occurring in the franchise, but it can be inferred based upon his interaction with Chris and Rebecca in RE: Vendetta when the two try to recruit Leon on their mission because of the intel he has on the type of BOWs they're dealing with. Speaking of RE: Vendetta, it can also be noted that Leon copes with his inability to cope with/regulate his emotions by drinking, and this is a habit he always had. In fact, he's essentially hung over in RE2, having drunk his feelings away after being broken up with the night before the Raccoon City incident, and he is literally drinking on the job in Damnation. Essentially, he's canonically an alcoholic. As an autistic person, sometimes I would turn to unhealthy coping mechanisms to deal with my emotional dysregulation, especially when I was unaware that I was autistic.

Leon isn't a very emotional person in general, again, It could be chalked up to trauma, but lack of emotional expression is also a common experience/trait amongst autistics.

“Inappropriate” Responses to Situations

GODDDD this one is SO prominent in RE4R (hell, even the OG), Infinite Darkness actually everything he's in, I can name at LEAST 2 examples of this. To keep this short, I'll just name ones that I relate painfully hard to, and ones that I find hilarious.

To start, WHENEVR HE JUST SAYS "ok 🧍" in response to an emotional moment. RE2R, when Claire introduces him to Sherry, in RE4R, when Ashley hugs him and expresses her relief that he's okay, and in Infinite Darkness whenever he checks up on Patrick after the White House Outbreak. It never fails to make me lose it because he's just like me fr.

Thists a sillier one, but I want to mention it because it's so mecore.

Thank you to @highball66 for doing the lord's work of translating the Death Island manga yall seriously he’s a legend🙏

When Leon sends selfies of him on missions. That's it. He just sends it to Hunnigan and I think it's great.

Sensory Issues

Okay, I KNOW LEON IS A GOVERNMENT AGENT AND NEEDS SOME LEVEL OF GEAR ON MISSIONS BUT!!!!! Half the time he isn't even wearing a full set, not even a bullet proof vest. HOWEVER, I did notice that one thing he CONSISTENTLY wears (with the exception of a few instances) is GLOVES!!! This is more of a personal headcannon, but I like to think he's sensitive to texture, especially when handling guns and such, so he wears gloves, so it doesn't feel as terrible. To further back up his sensitivity to texture, in Death Island, after the Dylan BOW explodes and splashes water everywhere, Chris doesn't seem to care about being covered in water while Leon is flicking the water off him.

Literal Thinking - Coming off as Rude/Inappropriate Unintentionally

GODDDDD this is another big one, but I’ll only cover the ones that I relate to a lot to save time. Starting with his initial encounter with Jill in Death Island, they’re being chased by lickers and…well..this interaction

Exhibit B: This scene. He’s just so nonchalant about it and I do the exact same thing without like…intentionally being a “smartass” or whatever, I’m just being honest 🧍. Jill’s “Oh😒” at the end of the scene is really what made it hit home, because that’s how people typically react when i have a similar interaction with them

ANOTHER THING!!! All of the instances in which Leon casually asks “so you wanna get dinner?” Or something along those lines. It’s often interpreted as a poor attempt at flirting, but personally, I think he genuinely just wants food, and he doesn’t understand why ppl are like 🤨 when he asks. He just wants a nice dinner with a nice lady :(

Hyper-empathy

Small disclaimer here, autism is a SPECTRUM. And our empathy levels fluctuate every day. In Leon’s case, I see him being hyper-empathetic, much like myself. And being able to empathize so easily with people is incredibly draining. Additionally, a huge thing that is common among autistics is how we tend to respond to people who are sharing their struggles with us sharing our OWN experiences that are similar to theirs, and it often comes off as egocentric and selfish to “make it about us”, but in reality, that’s our way of saying that we understand what you’re going through, and it helps us process how you may be feeling as well. There are many scenes I could pull from, but I want to talk about one specifically in Infinite Darkness since it resonates so much with me:

The scene within ID in which Jason is having a nightmare, and Leon wakes him up, immediately asking him if he wants to talk about it. Jason recalls the nightmare and his trauma about Penamstan to Leon, and says that he has no idea what it was like, and Leon responds talking about his experience in Raccoon City, and how that affected him similarly

Special Interests & Using Media to Communicate Feelings

There are many aspects of this I could talk about, but I’ve already written 10 pages worth already in this post, so I’ll speed through it.

Personally, I think Leon has a special interest in film! He makes several references throughout the franchise, many of which are overlooked. Personally, my favorite reference he makes is in RE: Vendetta to Pulp Fiction (I think) when Chris and Rebecca confront him during his “vacation”

Final Notes/Conclusion

I had to cut a LOT out from my original mini-essay I wrote about this to fit it better on here, and make it not as boring to read lmao, but I hope you enjoyed my silly little analysis! I love being able to relate my experiences to others, fictional or otherwise, as it helps me feel less alone, and be able to process and cope with what makes my disability a…well, a disability. I hope fellow autistics find some solace in this as well, and please let me know your additional thoughts about this topic if you’re a fellow autistic Leon Kennedy headcannoner!!!

[marinettesaltprompts]

True Holder Implications

Prompt by @ironicreality

Another Salt Prompt, this time inspired by the oh-so-fun concept of “True Holders” and how its used. Just now with a bit of logic applied to the whole thing.

After all, if Adrien isn’t Plagg True Holder, then it makes all those scenes where Plagg tries to convince him to stay as Chat Noir and go along with Fu and Ladybug’s questionable leadership choices a lot more questionable. And with Adrien having some similarities to Damian (a custom-made heir to parents who trained him in athletics, fighting and academics from an early age), the implications actually become far worse.

Especially if Adrien has to find out right when he learns everything else about Gabriel and the Sentimonster business.

Not too much Marinette salt really, but a massive **block** of it for Fu and Plagg thanks to Fridge Logic kicking in full force.

It starts with the usual Maribat plot outline.

“Damien” arrives in Paris to help defeat Hawkmoth. In the process of teaming up with Ladybug he effortlessly proves his worth as a hero and Marinette can just feel that she’s found her True Partner. He’s protective of both her identities. Proactive in hunting down Lila and is clearly the better hero between him and Chat Noir.

Best of all any reluctance she might have in replacing her first Partner is done away with her inner Guardian sense/magical knowledge/Miraculous informing her that Damian is indeed the True Black Cat. So its a matter of destiny and now that she’s found her soulmate (forget about that spineless Adrien!) it’s the right thing for Chat Noir to step aside for Plagg’s real holder.

With Gabriel unmasked and the other Miraculous now in her box the time has come. And when Chat Noir arrives for what will be their last meeting even he doesn’t seem surprised to see Damien standing in their spot.

Ladybug is surprised herself however when Chat Noir, having been sullen towards Damien ever since the brusque boy had arrived in Paris, wordlessly destransforms in front of them without hesitation. She’s twice surprised to find that her old crush, Adrien, had been Chat Noir all along. And she’s thrice surprised to find him already pulling the ring off his finger without her even having brought up the fact he’d need to give up the ring.

But apparently *he* already knew, because he almost casually throws the thing at Robin, who catches it equally as wordlessly before sliding it on. Plagg appears, and looks towards Adrien for a moment, but Adrien is pointedly not looking at the Cat Kwami- and instead at Ladybug for a moment.

Then he turns and starts to make his way away from the spot, apparently intending to use his natural agility to make his way down.

Surprised, Ladybug finds herself next to him and grabbing his arm before she knows it- and the non-powered boy is easily halted in place. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” She finds herself demanding.

Adrien turns back to her for a moment, and Ladybug was struck by how cold and stone-faced her former partner was. His green eyes were empty of anything she could discern. He looks down at her grip, “… goodbye?”

“That’s it?” She splutters, “after *everything*? You’re just going to leave just like that?”

In hindsight she shouldn’t have been surprised, he’d already left once with barely a word. But somehow this time got to her. This was the end of the Ladybug and Chat Noir for good- there wasn’t going to be another time he took up the ring and became her partner again: but this was how he ended things?

“What else is there to say?” His voice is as empty as his eyes were. “What do you *want* me to say?”

“I-I don’t know, *anything*?” She felt a bit of bitterness rise up; “something about our partnership maybe? ‘Good job!’ 'We did it!’ ‘It was an honour to fight alongside you’, since you know: we’ve only been *fighting for years* against…”

“My Father.” Adrien coolly reminds her.

“Oh,” her anger unfurled in her chest; “is that what this is about-”

“No. No it isn’t.” Adrien tugs his arm, and she loosens her grip to let him free. He steadies himself on the ledge and turns back to face her properly, ignoring the other boy the and the Kwami. “You know what a True Holder is?”

Ladybug almost scoffs, but simply nods.

“Well, *I didn’t*.” There’s a bite to his voice now. “Not until a few nights ago when Plagg let something slip.” His eyes flicker over her shoulder for a moment before returning to her. “But you did didn’t you? That’s why he’s here.”

Okay, things made sense now. Clearly Adrien was bitter about being replaced, but he’d let the ring go before so why-

“… and so did Plagg.” Adrien continues, a hardness in his face now. A genuine edge.

“So?” Ladybug can’t help but ask. “Why does that matter? All Kwamis can feel their True Holders but-”

“It matters because Plagg *always knew* I wasn’t his holder,” Adrien sharply interjects. “And so did Fu.” He looks her over with resignation. “They both knew I wasn’t your actual Partner.

You don’t get it do you? This entire time, I was just a stand-in for *him*,” Adrien pointed towards Robin. “Fu picked me because I was closest thing he could get in Paris to him. The closest thing that could be *controlled* anyway,” more bitterness. “All this time, Plagg was encouraging me to stay close to you, to go along with whatever you and Fu wanted- because they needed a *disposable temp* until the real thing could arrive.”

“I…” Ladybug finds herself taken aback. She’d had problems with Chat Noir and had long since become disillusioned with Adrien, but this…

“I tried to leave a few times.” Adrien’s voice cuts into her thoughts. “Before this, but Plagg always brought me back. He always convinced me to stay, because of…” he trailed off and his voice went cool again. “Because *Robin wasn’t here yet*, so he told me whatever he needed so he and Fu could keep using me instead of someone less controllable.”

Plagg’s voice cuts in, “Adrien-”

“But they were all lies.” Adrien ignores him and keeps his eyes on Ladybug. “Just like everything else. Until I noticed how he reacted to Robin, and started asking questions and *making* him tell the truth a few days ago.” His lips twitch up for a moment, “but it’s all right. Robin’s here now, so there’s no need for me anymore.”

“You…” she finds herslef tailing off. “You didn’t want to keep the ring?”

She doesn’t know why she says it, but it’s an obvious question. She didn’t know his identity, maybe she could have gotten it from Uncanny Valley but surely he could have tried to escape away someplace in the last week…

“Why?” Adrien snorts. “What would it have given me? Plagg was never actually my friend. You were never actually my partner.

Chat Noir was *never* freedom, just another *puppet*.” The brief moment of good humour had passed, and the resigned bitterness had returned.

“You could have asked for another Miraculous,” She offers up. She’d been expecting Chat to at least ask to stay on the team. “Be a hero again-”

“I wasn’t a ‘hero’, I was a *puppet*.” Adrien snapped back. “A patsy, a *meatshield* and a joke most of the time- and I refuse to be that *ever again*.” His voice calmed again, but the underlying sour disillusionment remained; “especially not for The Order, some Kwami, or *you*-”

“And if you’re a True Holder after all?” She demands. “You could be leaving the Kwami you’re meant for alone!””

It really wasn’t something she expected was true. But Chat Noir had had moments when he’d shined, and she’d wanted to at least test him for whatever Fu had seen in him.

“So what?” He bluntly askes. “It’s not like you *have* to be a True Holder to use a Miraculous and you’ll have plenty of volunteers. You’ll be just fine.

As for me?” He lets out a tired breath, “I… I don’t know why I came in person. I just… I’m not part of this anymore. I don’t *want* to be part of this anymore.

Good luck Ladybug.” He turns to leave, but stops as he reaches down to his first handold. “And maybe check with Tikki to make sure you’re *actually* her True Holder. You’d be surprised how well Kwamis can deceive you.”

Blog Note: While not really focusing on Marinette salt, its a really good angsty prompt and does salt on one of the most annoying Maribat tropes, so it gets a full pass.

[goodluckclove]

On Not Writing

Hi! I'm back. i had a fun two days of doing absolutely nothing writing related, including scrolling this blog. Wife and I played a lot of Valheim. Took a lot of bike rides. Watched Interstellar for the first time - pretty good, kind of silly at the end. It was my first two-day weekend in probably three months, so it was much-needed, hard as it was.

And it got me thinking of some things I wanted to say to the community here. It's especially targeted towards younger writers, of which I used to be one, but I think it can apply to anyone who finds themselves despairing over how much they aren't writing.

Let's imagine you're sitting with me in this coffee shop. It's an overcast Portland morning and I just inadvertently vivisected a croissant. And as we sip our drinks (I ordered a lavender latte), you lament to me. I don't know what to do, Clove. I just haven't been writing!

You know what I say to that?

Good.

This is a new hot take of mine that I, once again, worry about upsetting people with. Because I see a lot of guides here about how to write, or how to write consistently, or how to write through writers block. But I haven't seen a single person talking about the inverse - how to not write. Or - perhaps more accurately - how to exist as a human being separate from your identity as a writer.

This is a problem for me.

Listen - I started young. I was 12 when I wrote my first novella, and 13 when I completed my first novel the next year. Adults in my life were impressed by the big-eyed child writing so many words. They encouraged me. I wrote two more novels, and they continued to encourage me. Because of the potential, right? I could be successful. I could be famous.

People stopped pushing me to try other things. I saw I was getting validation as a writer, so that only pushed me to continue fixating over something I was already enjoying and getting pretty good at. Dad had me writing two thousand words every day, because that's what Stephen King did. At 16 I finished four full-length novels, which everyone thought was really cool and interesting. I was also sporting dual hand braces every day throughout the winter to cope with the carpal tunnel I still struggle with to this day.

There is encouraging a person in their passion. There is also poisoning them with the belief that their self-worth comes from pursuing that passion. This is entirely, absolutely, even more true for younger writers and artists.

I am enraged for the young writer in my heart and in my head. Because they worried about a lot of the same things I see people worry about on here. Oh, if I don't write I'm not a writer! And to an extent they're right, as to be a writer you need to at some point write some stuff.

But here's the fucking thing, Young Clover - a child should not strive for the work ethic of a professional adult. You did not need to write 2k words a day to be a writer. You were a writer as soon as you updated that terrible Invader Zim fanfiction you wrote when you were 10.

And more than that, though, the most important thing to a person should not be their job and aspirations. If you don't write every day, you're still a writer. If you've never written anything, you aren't - and that's fine. You might write something later down the line, or you might not. Either way you are still entitled to exist on the planet and capable of living a full and passionate and wonderful life.

Hear my words: being a writer is not more important than being a human being.

If you aren't writing right now, maybe you're not supposed to be. Maybe you're meant to be nurturing your relationships, or nurturing yourself. Maybe you're supposed to be volunteering. Or meeting new people. Or gaining a new field of knowledge. Or getting really good at making focaccia bread. Or watching every Mark Wahlberg movie.

I don't like to hear this any more than you do. If I was told that I, for some reason, was not allowed to write for the rest of my life, I would be miserable for maybe a long time. After that passed it's my hope that I would move on and do other things, because my worth is not dependent on being a writer. I like doing it. I like being it, and I hope to be one for the rest of my life. But I never want it to be the first thing people see when they look at me. I don't even like bringing it up in conversation with people I don't already know.

So yeah, if you have "writer's block", maybe consider putting down the pickaxe and getting some rest. Step away entirely from the large boulder that stands between you being the next Stephen King or Brandon Sanderson or Teen Dystopia Writer no. 2321. Take a break, and I mean an ACTUAL break, not the kind where you spend the whole time sulking about work.

I am legitimately begging the writers on here to have developed lives and interests outside of writing. I am begging because I do not have that and it has consistently been one of the hardest things of my life.

You prioritize living outside your writing and it will improve the quality of your writing when you get back to it, as it'll allow you a frame of reference that extends beyond our niche industry. Or it might make you realize that, while you enjoy writing, what you really love is ceramics. Or game developing. Or mutual-aid activism. Or the movies of Mark Wahlberg.

It is not your job to treat yourself like you already have a dozen deadlines and an audience teetering on the edge of disappointment. That's ultimately not going to help you. Your job on this earth is to exist fully, for the sake of the universe that wants so desperately to live vicariously through you.

So breathe. Breathe and calm down. You aren't a failure and there's nothing you have to prove. All you have to do today is drink some water and have a nice snack while you look at a cloud.

Please be kind. All of us need to be kinder to each other and to ourselves.

That's all I want to say. I love you dearly. Please let me know if you need anything.