#i have also been looking for / applying to other jobs with the intention of finding a different job because like i said

[butteredfrogs]

just texted my boss that i quit my job and im literally shaking

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |2|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Ana made Caleb breakfast as usual, she helped him make sure all his stuff was in his backpack like usual, and she walked him to school like usual. She tried to keep everything as normal as possible, when she got back home the other night her note was still on the counter and Caleb hadn’t mentioned anything yet, so she assumed he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night. The only thing Ana did differently was she couldn’t help her eyes darting around constantly, looking for you or any more surprises, she also had her gun tucked in her pants, covered up by her shirt. She was supposed to be done with the type of life they would involve her carrying around a gun, especially when she was with her son, she couldn’t believe she was considering your job offer.

Ana couldn’t deny that she was curious. She was struggling to find a job, ideally, she wanted something in the medical field she knew that wasn’t going to happen though. The only way she’d be able to continue helping people that way would be to keep being an underground doctor, but that very thing was what led her to getting captured and almost killed by a vampire. She wouldn’t be able to continue to make enough to live off of if she only helped specific people or didn’t do big injuries where she could potentially kill the patient. She was clean and she had no intention of slipping, but she didn’t want to give herself the opportunity to fuck things up again.

“I have a job interview today,” Ana said as the school got within eyesight.

“Cool,” Caleb mumbled.

“I’m not sure how long it’ll take but I should be done in time to get you from school.”

Caleb just nodded. Ana held in a sigh; she didn’t need Caleb to be excited for her, but he was acting like he didn’t expect much from it. She couldn’t really blame him; he’d seen her spend every day applying and getting rejected by jobs. When Ana did get an interview, she always came home already knowing she wouldn’t be called back.

“See you later,” he mumbled before running off and catching up with his friends.

Ana opened her mouth ‘I love you’ on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t bother finishing this time, she knew Caleb wouldn’t hear it anyway. She stood at the entrance until the bell rang, signaling all the kids that it was time to get to class. She waited there until all the students had filed inside and she finally lost sight of the top of Caleb’s head. Just as she turned around to walk away you pulled up in a Jeep.

Ana rolled her eyes, when you said you’d pick her up after she dropped her son off, she didn’t realize how literal you meant it. You had clearly been watching her, you knew where her son went to school and what time it started, your timing for pulling up was perfect, too perfect. She glared at you when you rolled down the window, smirking at her, your eyes were once again hidden behind sunglasses, but she knew your eyes were on her.

Ana flung open the door and jumped in the passenger seat. “If you try anything, or if this is a trick in anyway,” Ana turned in her seat, glaring into your eyes despite the sunglasses. “I will shoot you.”

“And a good morning to you,” you said, not losing your smirk as you turned to face the road again. You checked your mirrors before pulling out and began driving to wherever you were taking Ana.

“I’m serious,” Ana continued to glare at the side of your head.

“I brought you a coffee,” you looked down at the coffee in the cup holder. “I got it black; you didn’t seem like the type to want a bunch of sugar and crap in it.”

“Do you think I’m joking?”

You let out a small chuckle, but quickly covered it by turning it into a smile. Ana wasn’t sure if you were just that arrogant or what, she was tempted to shoot you just to prove to you she would. “I assure you; I am well aware you’re not joking.”

“So, do you just have a death wish then?”

You let out a humorless chuckle. Ana made a note of that, she had been joking, half joking, but it almost seemed like you did have a death wish. “You’re not going to kill me,” you said confidently. “You’re incredibly capable of that.” Ana raised an eyebrow. “But you won’t kill me, not if you don’t actually have too.”

“Where are we going?” Ana asked, rolling her eyes.

“Out of the city,” you said simply. Ana’s eyes widened; she told Caleb she would be back in time to pick him up. “Don’t worry, you’ll be back before your kid gets out of school.”

Ana snapped her gaze to you, narrowing her eyes. “How’d you know I was worried about that?” There was something about you, something Ana couldn’t quite pin, she knew you weren’t a vampire, there was nothing to indicate you were something more than human, but Ana had a feeling. You knew so much about her, what happened during her last job, about vampires, about her son, and just now, you knew what she was worried about. It wouldn’t be a completely crazy leap to think you could read minds.

“I’m not a mind reader.” That certainly did nothing to disprove Ana’s theory. “You love your son,” you shrugged. “It’s clear you’re trying to makeup to him, you don’t want to let him down.”

Ana continued to stare at you, you nailed it, she didn’t like it when others could read her just as well as she could read them. You continued on driving though, never once glancing at her. She wondered what made you tick, if you were always this calm or if it was only for her. You read her so well the night before, despite having a gun pointed at you, you knew she wouldn’t shoot you. It was the same as today, you knew Ana had a gun on her, you had to have, yet you were relaxed and driving as if the two of you were on a road trip out of the city.

The trip continued until the two of you were well out of the city, driving down a two-lane road lined with trees on both sides. It was a gorgeous drive; however, it was also out in the middle of nowhere. Ana didn’t know who you were, where you were taking her, or who you were taking her to, the only thing she knew was that you wanted her for a job, but even with that you had been vague on. The woods were thick enough that if you took Ana out there, she could be lost forever, no one would know what happened to her.

You turned on your blinker, turning down another paved road. Ana furrowed her brow until, finally, you passed a mansion, it had a long driveway, completely fenced in, and the large house sat all the way back, well away from the road. After a few more minutes, you passed by another mansion, with a similar layout. The mansions in the middle of nowhere reminded Ana of the one Abigail lived in, the place her last job took place, where everything happened, but these mansions didn’t look run down and abandoned.

You kept driving down the road, passing mansion after mansion on each side every few minutes. Ana couldn’t imagine living in a place like this, giant houses, with who knew how many rooms, several minutes apart from the next house. There was complete and total privacy, one could hardly consider them as neighbors with how far apart they were.

You finally turned down the driveway of one of the mansions. After slowly coming to a stop in front of the large metal gate, the gate was all stone and metal, the tips of the fence pointed so that if anyone were to climb it, they’d most definitely injure themselves. You rolled down your window, staring at the little box without saying a word. A second later there was a loud grinding sound and the gate slowly slid open. You rolled your widow back up and continued driving forward, the gate closing almost instantly after you crossed the threshold.

Ana shoved her hands in her pocket, fiddling around with the candy she had shoved in there. She debated for half a second before grabbing a piece of candy, quickly unwrapping it, and shoved it in her mouth. She caught you glancing at her out of the side of your eye, but you didn’t say anything. Ana straightened her back and continued to stare out the windshield as you continued to drive up the long driveway. Her mouth fell open, nearly losing her candy in the process, as the mansion fully came into view. The house was newer than the one Abigail had, but much bigger. Ana couldn’t imagine living in a house so big, she could imagine having to decorate that many rooms.

You pulled the car around, coming to a gentle stop right in front of the front steps. Ana glanced at her watch; it had taken nearly an hour to get wherever you had taken her. “We’re here,” you said, smiling at Ana before jumping out of the car.

You ran around the car, pulling the door open the rest of the way after Ana opened it. You held out your hand to help her out. She rolled her eyes, stepping out of the car and walking right past your outstretched hand. Ana ignored the small sigh you let out, choosing to continue walking up the steps and waiting for you at the front door. You quickly closed the car door and ran after her, smiling at her as you stood in front of her again. She raised an unamused eyebrow at you.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re just delightful when being interviewed?” you asked, smirking.

“I’m here for your boss,” Ana said, giving you a tight-lipped smile. “I don’t have to be anything to you.”

You let out a small hum and then put your hand on the door handle, giving Ana a mischievous smile before allowing the door to swing open. You made a dramatic gesture with your arm, allowing Ana to enter first. Ana walked through the door, turning in a circle as she took in the high ceilings and the various art and weapons hanging on the walls. Ana jumped, whipping around when she heard the large wood door slam shut. She eyed you as you walked away from the door, she hadn’t forgotten that the last time she was in a mansion, she got locked in and nearly died.

“This way,” you said, nodding your head for Ana to follow.

Ana followed you through a room, then down a long hallway. The mansion was massive, it had items in every room and on every wall, it almost didn’t look lived in though. Everything was clean and perfect but as they passed a sitting room Ana couldn’t imagine someone had ever sat on the couch or any of the chairs in the room, though there were shelves lined with old books, their spines worn from age or years of being read.

You came to a stop outside another rather large wood door. You gave a small knock, but you didn’t wait for whoever was on the other side to acknowledge it before opening the door. You held the door open, allowing Ana to step in first once again. Her eyes widened as she took in the room, unlike the rest of the house, at least from what she had seen, this room had a blonde woman sitting at a desk with five computer monitors in front of her, the wall behind her was plastered with various images, sketches, and newspaper clippings of monsters or reports of strange happenings, from all over the world. Off to the right was a peg board on wheels, with the same thing, news paper clippings, online articles and social medias posts printed out and pegged on, though unlike the wall, the board seemed to be all about the same event, in the same place.

The blonde woman stood up, stepping out from around the desk. Ana looked her up and down, she was wearing some jeans and a simple jacket. If Ana had seen the woman walking down the street, she would never have imagined she lived in a mansion and had the type of money she must have.

“Ana Lucia Cruz,” the woman said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she held out her hand. “My name is Grace.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ana said, giving Ana’s hand a shake. So far, she liked Grace better than you, so she was considering the meeting a success for the moment. “And I would prefer Joey, if you don’t mind.” Grace tilted her head at the request. “For privacy reasons.”

“Of course, Joey,” Grace nodded, giving her a kind smile. “Please, join me,” she gestured to the other side of the room, leading Joey to a set of chairs next to a small table.

“Thank you,” Joey took one of the seats while Grace took the other. You moved to stand behind Grace on her left, as if you were her own person bodyguard. “I have to say,” Joey said, shaking her head as Grace offered her a cup of tea. “You have much better manners than your,” she flicked her gaze up at you, “associate.” Your only response was a smirk.

“What did you do?” Grace turned to you, exasperated.

Joey silently chuckled at the way your face fell. “You asked me to recruit her,” you said, pointing at Joey as you tried to defend yourself.

“Outside my son’s school,” Joey added. “Right after I dropped him off.”

Grace shook her head in disappointment. “How else was I supposed to do it!” you gestured widely with your hands. “This is the first person I’ve ever tried to bring in.”

“No, one else does this?” Joey asked. She figured there weren’t many people in this line of work, but she didn’t expect you and your boss to be the only ones. “Well, don’t I feel special,” she mumbled.

“You are special,” Grace said, leaning forward. “You survived something horrific, something unnatural.” Joey looked up, meeting Grace’s eyes, she saw determination, but she also saw compassion staring back at her. “Not many have the capabilities to survive something like that, it takes a particular kind of person to see a darkness like that and not runaway.” Grace leaned back in her chair. “That’s exactly the kind of person we’re looking for to join our cause.”

“Your cause?” Joey raised an eyebrow. “Y/N told me you experienced something similar to me.”

Grace tensed up, glancing at you out of the side of her eye, making you cast your eyes down to the floor like a scolded child. “I have, it’s why I do what I do. I don’t want anyone to suffer what I-what we have.”

“And you, what, just have so much money you don’t know what to do with,” Joey shrugged. “So, you might as well pay people to go fight the supernatural?”

“I mean it is the one thing that Le Domas fortune is good for,” you mumbled.

Joey’s eyes snapped to you the same time as Grace’s but for vastly different reasons. Your eyes widened as if you just realized you said that out loud. “Le Domas?” Joey whispered. “I recognize that name.” She rifled through her memory; she didn’t know the Le Domas family, but she knew she had heard of them. Her eyes widened when she realized why.

Joey shot out of her seat so fast, reaching behind her to grab the gun in her pants as soon as she was on her feet. “Don’t,” you said. Joey froze, slowly lifting her eyes to see you standing in front of Grace, in the line of fire.

Joey slowly took her hand off her gun and raised it, showing you her hands were empty. Joey wasn’t one to scare easily but the way your voice changed, the look in your eyes, Joey had missed judged you. You had been friendly with every interaction, to the point it was irritating. However, seeing you stand in front of her now, she saw it, the look in your eye, you would not hesitate to kill her if it meant protecting Grace.

“Guess you really are her guard dog,” Joey mumbled. She didn’t take her eyes off of you, she noticed the way yours darkened at her comment.

“It’s okay,” Grace said. She stood up, resting a hand on your shoulder to ease you back. It took a second, but you slowly relaxed and moved to stand behind Grace again.

“Whatever you think you know,” Grace said softly. “I promise you, it’s not even close to the truth.”

“Everyone knows the story of the Le Domas family,” Joey said, trying to relax again. She didn’t want you to see how on edge she was. She thought her guard was up before getting in the car with you, that was nowhere near to how on alert she was now. “A very rich, very prominent family, all dead, their bodies in pieces, and it all happened on their youngest son’s wedding night. They couldn’t prove she had done it, though everyone suspected, considering she came from nothing, and they were rich beyond imagination.”

Grace rested her chin on her hand as she nodded at Joey’s words. “They made a deal with a demon,” Grace finally whispered. “I thought I was marrying the love of my life and getting the family I always dreamed of,” she gave a sad smile, letting out a humorless chuckle. “Then they tried to kill me.” She looked back up at Joey again.

Joey slowly sat back down; she saw you take a step back, looking back down at the floor again. “It was a thing of theirs,” Grace continued. “If you married into the family you had to play a game, if you picked Hide and Seek then you hid, while they hunted you down,” she was staring off into the distance, seeming to be talking to herself more than anything. “If they didn’t kill you before sunrise then the whole family was going to die, that was the deal they made with Mr. Le Bail, he was the reason they had their fortune to begin with and in returned he required a sacrifice.”

“And you were…” Joey started but she wasn’t sure how to finish her sentence.

Grace nodded. “I married Alex, then that night he and his entire family tried to kill me,” she gave Joey a sad smile again. “Clearly, I survived,” she looked down at herself. “Mr. Le Bail allowed me to live and though their investigation was thorough, there was no evidence I had killed the entire family, so, since I was technically the last living relative after my marriage, I got everything,” she shrugged.

Joey nodded; she thought her night trying to survive a ballerina vampire had been bad. She couldn’t imagine thinking you were marrying the love of your life only for him to try sacrificing you to a demon his family made a deal with. “And now you use their fortune to help others.”

Grace nodded. “I try, figured the money should go to doing some good.” She cleared her throat, blinking away the tears that had seemed to begun to fill her eyes. “I also use it for payment, it’s how I pay Y/N for jobs, it’s how I could pay you. I assure you, the job may be dangerous, it may be shady at times, but the money is legit.”

Joey nodded, taking all the information in. That was one of the things she was worried about. It didn’t matter how much she could be making from a job, she still had to go through a process to make sure it wasn’t traceable and that it looked legit. Grace’s money was legit, she could pay Joey no problem and Joey could just have it go into the bank, no questions asked.

“And what about you?” Joey asked, looking at you. “What’s your story?” she tilted her head, waiting to see what kind of answer you gave this time.

Even from a distance Joey could see the way your body tensed up at her question, but you looked up, meeting her gaze. “Werewolves,” you said simply.

That piqued Joey’s interest, but it was clear you weren’t going to elaborate anymore. “Look,” she sighed, slumping back in her chair. “I admire what you want to do but I-”

“One job,” Grace said, leaning forward in her own chair. “We can call it a trial run,” she smiled. “On both sides, we can see how you do, and you can see exactly what we do, you can see if this,” she gestured around the room. “Is something you want to be a part of.”

Joey opened her mouth ready to reject the offer, even though she was tempted. “You’ll still get paid of course,” Grace said quickly. “Just one job, just see what we’re all about.”

Joey stared at Grace for a second, she could see the woman hardened by the trauma she experienced but she also saw compassion, someone who wanted to help others despite everything she had been through. Joey flicked her gaze to you, she didn’t know how you came to be with Grace but your loyalty to your boss was clear, she also saw underneath all the jokes and banter was someone incredibly guarded and trying to atone for something in their past, though Joey couldn’t image what for.

“Okay,” Joey said, looking back at Grace. “One job.” Grace smiled at that, which Joey couldn’t help but return. Joey had been curious ever since you approached her, she wasn’t sure she fully knew what she was getting into just yet though.

Taglist: @thinking1bee

[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 you're words. your lips feel cold. herta's space station, especially this deep in it's 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.

[zombieluver]

Helping hand

Steve Raglan/William Afton x reader

about: you're new to town, and looking for a job, you end up with help from a man named Steve Raglan, who ends up being more charming than you thought.

tw: nothing for this chapter

authors note: i plan on making about 9 parts for this, i hope people enjoy this! part 2 should be up soon. also there's no use of y/n in this

You find yourself before a very disinterested older man.

Steve Raglan was the name written on the name placard on his desk.

He hummed softly, sifting through papers. "So, why here?"

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He lays the papers down neat on his desk, and claspes his hands together, resting his chin atop them. "Why this town? Why Minnesota?" He asks, looking curious.

"Oh, um. My mother passed when we lived out of state, so I moved here to get away from the area. Fresh start. I don't know anything about Minnesota, and figured somewhere close but not too close to the cities would be nice."

He hums again, seemingly satisfied. "Well, lucky for you, I know just the job. Given your track record of jobs and a very open and pleasant attitude, there's a store close to here that needs a front secretary."

"Oh! Perfect." You smile.

He matches your smile, and you notice his eyes crinkle at the corners, it making his duller eyes shine a little.

"Perfect? Yeah, that's how I'd describe this, too. Want coffee?"

"What kind?"

He stands and walks behind you, "Well, I got black coffee, but I have sugar and cream."

You pause, then decide what the hell, "Sure, I'll have a cup."

"Fantastic." Steve says.

A minute later, you have a warm cup in your hands, "So, what do I need to do to apply for the job?"

Steve shuffles through some papers, "Well, I'll fill out the paperwork, and you tell me your answers, alright? Then we can send you on your way."

You nod, taking a sip of coffee.

Steve asks you typical questions for an application, and you answer each with ease. Only pausing to struggle to remember phone numbers for reference.

He asks about an emergency contact, and you frown, "Why would I need that for an application?"

"Some places want one. In case anything happens during an interview, they're able to get a hold of someone."

You lean back, sighing and nervously push your hair back, "Well, I don't have anyone. Only people I know are states away."

Steve pauses, then jots something down on the paper, "For now, we can list myself as your emergency contact."

"Do you do this for everyone?"

"Not usually, normally I'd put down the secretary, but I can make an exception for someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Y'know, new to town and a very positively polite person. I can't not want to help out if I'm able."

You blush a little and try to cover it with your coffee.

All too soon, your application is finished, and your coffee has been long gone.

Steve smiles and slips the papers into a folder with your name on it. "Well, it was very pleasant to chat with you today."

"Likewise." You say, smiling back.

"Is there a number I'm able to reach you at? In case this place has any questions?"

You nod, jot down the number for your tiny brick of a mobile, and pass the sticky note to him. "Here, it's my personal cellphone."

Steve's smile widens, and you wonder if he was totally honest about his intentions with wanting your number.

"It was pleasant to meet you.." He pauses before going to look at your file.

You laugh softly and repeat your name to him as you stand up.

He repeats your name softly to himself, almost as if he were committing it to memory, then smiles softly, "Right, well have a good day, I'll contact you in the future with any updates."

You smile back, "Thank you, Mr. Raglan."

"Steve," He corrects, "Just call me Steve."

"Alright then, Steve. I'll look forward to your call."

He waves a little, and you exit his office, door clicking softly behind him. You stand there for a moment, feeling slightly ridiculous by how charming he was.

Then, you walk away, realizing there's still other people here waiting to meet with him, and you still need to get home.

[carleycore]

When they insult you(Kenma and Oikawa)

A/N this blog is so weird- It’s like 400 styles in one.

Genre: Angst (it’s not SUPER bad- I can write a part two as comfort if y’all would like that)

Warnings: Insults obvi, pregnant reader(oikawa)

Part two

(not having a job)

Being with Kenma is wonderful. He never looks at other girls, fights you, and always is there to support and love you, so of course you did the same.

You’ve been dating him since high-school so you were there for him through his volleyball days all the way to his billionaire status. Naturally, you both loved and were there for each other unconditionally, so it was no surprise when he got down on one knee and proposed.

Currently the two of you were in the process of wedding planning which was super fun, but stressful as hell. 

Kenma made enough money from streaming and his business and he loved to stream. So he was still working when he really didn’t need to. 

You’d quit your job to focus on the planning and all had been going well.

Now the week was two months away and all you had left was the finishing touches.

All of the major stuff was done, and now all you had to do was plan the little things. Little things that would’ve been really helpful to have your fiancé's input on, so you opened his door slowly to see if he was streaming, which he was, but he was in the middle of a break.

“Hey baby,” you smiled, walking over to sit on his lap, “are you busy right now?”

You couldn’t tell when you walked in, but he seemed pissed off. 

“I’ve been streaming for four hours. All I want is a break, what do you want?” He responded harshly.  

“Just turn off the stream, I wanna talk about wedding stuff,” you bargained. 

“One of us has to work, Y/N. I know it’s fun to just lounge around on the couch and pick flowers but I have a real job. A job I need to support you and this lavish wedding you want.” 

After hearing this, you simply got up and left the room. If that was truly how he felt, so be it. There didn’t have to be a wedding after all.

Going into a guest room and slamming the door, you instantly started applying for jobs. Kenma knew you were waiting until you finished college to get a job again, and that he’d support you through getting your masters degree. But clearly, that was a lie. 

And you wouldn’t force him to support you any longer.

(Not dressing up)

You were 20 weeks pregnant. Finally at the point where it didn’t just look like you ate a lot. It looked like you were growing a baby. This also meant that it was getting harder to find an outfit that wasn’t just a shirt that was streched out too much, or an ugly maternity dress that made you look even fatter than you felt. Thankfully, Oikawa was there for you ever step of the way. Buying you new things to try on, encouraging you, and telling you how beautiful you looked. But his views changed one day.

Now you and your husband, Oikawa, were walking around the grocery store. Just buying food for the week when one of his old classmates came up to him.

She was pregnant too, and shopping for groceries with her husband. The only difference was she was absolutely glowing. Her bump fit her nicely, and the dress she was wearing looked amazing on her. It gave her a very cheery vibe.

Since you didn’t go to Aoba Johsai, you didn’t know them. So, you just smiled and looked at the food intently, as if you didn’t know what you were going to grab. 

After a while they left and Oikawa’s mood seemed to have worsened.

“What’s wrong babe?” You asked, trying your best to keep up with the speed that he walked to the cash register, “and we’re missing a few things.”

“Why can’t you look more like Nami? She’s 24 weeks and she still dresses nicely,” He complained, gesturing towards your Crocs, T-shirt, and sweatpants.

“I’ve tried, nothing you good on me,” you were about to cry. You didn’t know if it was pregnancy hormones or if it was the fact that your husband was berating you in public. It was a good thing the cashier had her airpods in and the store was fairly empty.

“Well maybe you should stay home then. It’s embarrassing when my friends’ wives look better than my own,” he grumbled, picking up the pancake mix and syrup you put in the basket, “seriously? Are you trying to look like a whale?” 

Instead of explaining how HIS child was craving it, you simply put it back on the shelf and was silent the entire way home.

That night, after putting everything up and showering you rolled on your side of the bed alone. When he wrapped his arms around your bump as he did every night, you pushed him off. Ignoring him when he tried to apologize and reason with you.

The next day when he apologized, bought you new clothes, jewelry, and the food you wanted you still didn’t talk to him.

It’d take a lot more than bribery for you to forgive his actions. 

THIS BELONGS TO CARLEY-CHAN 2023 DO NOT REWORK/REWRITE!!

reblogs and likes appreciated <3

[fadingdaggerr]

Hi, could i request a melissa schemmenti x firefighter!reader. I absolutely found melissa in 2x15 bloody adorable, so i would think she would melt if she were to see reader on the job or in uniform (like getting ready to go to work and melissa catches them before they leave the house sort of thing). It could be an established relationship or not, totally up to you, just thought this would be a super cute idea.

I feel like there could be more firefighter!reader stuff but at this point, i’ve read all of melissa schemmenti stories and i’m desperate for more, so i’ll take anything 🫠.

p.s. I love all of your stories and the way you write 💕💕

- 🩵

simmer

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! melissa very much appreciates r’s firefighting uniform, quite a lot

warnings: fluff, suggestive comments, mel and r are just obsessed w each other

note: i went back and forth a few times on this, but i hope you like it. also everything i know about firefighting is from station 19 so it’s probably wrong but we’re here to be gay not correct

your alarm pierced your eardrums, pulling you violently from a deep and comfortable sleep. you reached haphazardly to turn off the alarm, burying your face back into your pillow with a groan. soft lips press between your shoulder blades, nails caressing your sides. if only staying in bed was an option. your head lifted off the pillow, turning to face melissa behind you. she has to be too beautiful to be real, you thought inwardly.

melissa leaned forward, catching your lips with hers. she relished in the way you pressed into her, blindly pushing yourself into her as much as you possibly could. she wishes you didn’t have to go in today, it was a saturday, a no-school day. but being the lieutenant under captain robinson meant when the fire chief came to visit, you had to be there to run the crew. one, two, three more pecks were placed to her lips before you pulled away, to both of your dismays.

she propped herself up against the headboard as she watched you mill about before you head into the shower. melissa often found herself admiring you when you weren’t looking, green eyes tracing your face, watching your hands as they moved when you spoke. she indulged herself in the view of you and your company.

when you emerged from the bathroom, your phone was pressed between your shoulder and ear. melissa could see the irritation radiating off of you as you grumbled with whoever was on the other line. she finds herself annoyed with them as well, peeved that they are taking away her time with you.

“so i have to pull up in turnouts instead of changing when i get there like a normal person… for what reason?” you ask as you dig through the dresser for a pair of boot socks. of course, captain robinson called you. he trusted you enough to lead the crew, but not enough to just let you do your job. melissa laughs as you turn around and face her with dead eyes and a slacked jaw before you speak again, “yessir, black turnouts. i’ll see you next week. yes. yes. mhm, yeah, bye.”

“did he just call you to tell you to wear clothes?” melissa asks in a joking tone, watching you in the reflection of your mirror.

you laugh as you apply your moisturizer, “pretty much. he said since i’m in charge today, i have to be ready before the crew.”

melissa was admittedly giddy about the whole prospect. she’d seen you in your formal attire when you were promoted from driver engineer to lieutenant last year, and congratulate you she did, all night long. she had been selfishly waiting for the day you came home in your turnouts, just so she could rip them off of you.

her eyes followed you as you grabbed a fitted, black t-shirt from the drawer, then as you pulled an extra pair of turnout pants from the closet. melissa watched intently as you dressed, focused as you pulled the shirt over your head, tucking it into the pants, leaving maroon suspenders hanging down. her mind was blank within seconds, only thing bouncing around was the image of you. she hardly registered you turning around, catching the dazed look across her face. in fact, she didn’t notice anything until you were mere centimeters from her.

“whatcha looking at gorgeous?” you ask with a sly smile on your lips, relishing in the way melissa’s cheeks bloom with redness.

she blinks a couple times, “nothing.”

“nothing? nothing at all?” you ask, leaning even closer to her. melissa was rendered speechless by you, the hand on her thigh drawing little shapes over the sheets, your eyes staring into hers with a mischievous glint. everything you did and said was a personal aphrodisiac for the redhead, but this uniform was altogether something else. no one had ever had this sort of effect on her, and now she’s blushing like a pre-teen at a boy band concert.

melissa only had enough wherewithal to nod at your question. no matter what you did or said she would never admit out loud how much you affected her, how much she craves the feeling you give her with just one look. her eyes shut briefly as your hand rises to tuck hair behind her ear, warming her face impossibly more.

“knock it off,” she mumbled, leaning into your palm that rested against her cheek.

your thumb stroked her soft skin with a chuckle, “i’m just sitting here, mel.”

“you’re so…” she huffs, only getting a confused look in response. “fucking look at you,” she almost yells, placing her hands over her face with embarrassment.

she hears the light laughter that leaves you, then feels you pulling her wrists as a way to get her hands off her face. you’re only half-successful and speak anyways, “i didn’t think turnouts would have the melissa schemmenti blushing like a fool.”

melissa wishes her heart didn’t soar when you laughed as she smacked your shoulder. anyone else who’d have the guts point this out would have to move to another planet to escape her wrath, but here you were, leaning into her even when she scowled. you pressed a kiss to her nose before rising off the bed again to finish getting ready.

as you walked back to the bathroom, melissa followed and stood behind you with her arms wrapped around your waist as you brushed your teeth. her nose tucked into the crook of your neck, inhaling the smell of your body wash and the smell that was uniquely you. her hands slowly moved up and down your torso, attempting to untuck your shirt and slide her hands underneath. you turned in her arms, halting her actions with a small, non-threatening glare.

“you are ravishing,” melissa says quiet tone, her eyes scanning over your features before dipping down to look at your clothing.

your cheeks warm under her affection, heart rapidly beating from just looking at her. leaving for work had never been harder, not when she was looking at you, touching you, like this. melissa knew the effect she had on you, the same way you knew of yours on her.

you cup her face in your hands, cherishing the beauty of her, “you can ravish me as much as you’d like when i get home.”

“don’t you wanna stay home with me, lieutenant?” she asked with a deeper tone, dripping in lust. you held back a groan at her words, wanting more than anything to take her up on the offer. she leans in, lips just a hair from your, “pretty please?”

you meet her in a sweet kiss, not letting her devilish tongue persuade you. nothing sounded better than spending a day in bed with melissa, to have the tv on and be so enraptured with one another that it fades away. when you pull away from her lips you whisper, “i want nothing more, but i have to go to work. i’ll be home before dinner, i promise.”

leaving melissa’s arms felt like being torn from like her, but if you didn’t leave now, you’d never leave again. she was a temptress of the highest order, you were sure of it. ignoring the looks and lingering touches she left behind as she ‘helped’ you collect your things. your hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her towards you as you started for the front door.

“i will be home at four thirty-six exactly. once i walk through that door, i am all yours,” you say to her, staring into big green eyes that were begging you to come back to bed.

“all mine?”

“completely and entirely,” you say, punctuating your sentence with a long kiss to soft lips. pulling away hurt your heart, but you had to. she caught your hand before you turned away, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, letting go with pursed lips.

“i love you,” she says as she leans against the doorway.

you turn back to her, “i love you more. i’ll see you at four thirty-six.”

“four thirty-six,” she replies as she reluctantly shuts the door.

it was going to be a long and hard day, but any day that melissa schemmenti was waiting for you at home was a good day.

sorry this was shorter than usual i was having a hard time with this one for… no reason??

feedback appreciated as always <3

[pepsiboyy]

starboy part 4 (final <3)

P1 P2 P3 P4

pairing: y/n x chris sturniolo

summary: y/n, born and raised in los angeles, moves across the country to boston. when she feels like she has nobody, she makes some new friends at her new job. she grows particularly close with the sturniolo triplets, where she finds a lot in common with one of them.

warnings: some fluff, angst, LOTS of cursing, and bullying :p

lowercase intentional!!!

author's note: HIII sorry i took a few days to myself to like. play video games idk that's my excuse my bad yall but FINAL PARTTT yayyy

i took a deep breath as my arms were practically wrapped around myself. i stared at the star market sign and bit my lip, slowly stepping through the automatic doors.

i quickly made my way to the customer service counter, where i saw matt clocking out. he turned to me and his eyes immediately softened. "hey, y/n," he breathed, stepping towards me.

i smiled quickly and half-heartedly before taking his spot and clocking in.

"are you okay? you left real fast yesterday, and.. i don't know, chris said he tried to reach out and-"

"yeah, i fell asleep. i didn't feel good," i mumbled, biting my lip as i tried not to let any sadness show in my expression. i turned to matt and smiled softly. "sorry for leaving so sudden. i just felt.. unwell," i mumbled.

matt slowly nodded and smiled softly. "okay, if you insist... i just want to be able to be a friend to you, nick does too, and especially chris." he chuckled. all i could do was look at him, but it looked more like i was looking through him and spacing out. matt's smile fell as he sighed. "chris also mentioned that when you guys were sitting, he got a notification from-"

"damn, y/n is here again today?" maeve's voice rang as she set her bag down and practically shoved me to the side to clock in. "guess i gotta do everything around here today." she mumbled as she side-eyed me, and i bit my lip. i couldn't do this today.

"maeve, you can't talk to her like that, she's still learning." matt told her, softly but very clearly as he sighed and gathered his things. "y/n, if you need anything, or just somebody to talk to, please reach out, okay?" he asked, and looked at me for any form of response.

"right, yeah. thanks, matt." i breathed, and he smiled at my response before stepping towards the exit.

i turned to maeve and bit my lip as she scrolled through her phone and applied pink lip gloss against her lips. she was stunning, and i was a bit envious of her long, blonde hair. i closed my eyes and let out a sigh, looking at my phone. i was a bit surprised to see some messages from who i had been dreading to see all day, and who i had hoped would have left with matt.

from: chris⭐ hey y/n, hope your shift goes well

i shuttered as i looked up at maeve. what if she was actively texting him? i turned to look around the store the best i can, and i saw chris pushing some carts inside.

damn, he was really still here.

i let out a breath as i began to straighten up around my department, seeing as it was a slow day and maeve was no help.

-

i sat in the breakroom as i stared at the wall. no music played in my ears, and nobody else sat in the room with me. i simply stared at the wall for my break. i sat and thought about all of the glances i had passed to chris, and how many times i caught him looking back. i also watched him and maeve talk quite often, which would cause my heart to clench each and every time. it didn't make sense to me. why did he pretend to care so much about me when he clearly had maeve?

"hi chris!" maeve smiled brightly and leaned against the counter to be closer to him, who was just trying to walk by and pick up a box of items.

"hey, maeve," he breathed, and she practically squealed at him, causing me to turn my head the other day and practically wince.

"whatcha got planned tonight? did you wanna go out?" maeve asked, which resulted in some silence and a deep breath.

"i'm busy tonight." he mumbled.

my back was still turned as i went through another box.

"i'm taking my fifteen, maeve. i'll be back." i breathed before swinging around on my heel and shoving past them both.

and that was why i was sitting against this worn down couch, staring at the wall. it made no sense to me. none of it.

after about thirteen minutes passed, i sighed and stood up to begin collecting my things and getting ready to head back out.

the door swung open.

"y/n, hey can we talk?" chris breathed, and i turned to the sudden sound of the door opening. since it was silent in the room, it scared me a bit more than i would have liked to admit.

"my fifteen is up, sorry." i breathed and attempted to walk past him.

i felt a hand against my own, before i turned to chris and bit my lip. facing him was really hard. my eyes welled up almost immediately, and chris picked up on it very quickly. worry rushed through his expression.

"after we close. please?" chris asked, carefully letting my arm go. i slowly nodded before i pulled away. i stood for a few moments, looking at him, biting my lip and then walking back towards the exit.

"thank fuck. about time. what were you even doing in there anyway?" maeve spat, and i turned to her. this really was not the time for her to speak to me that way, and in fact, it never was the time. "i had to deal with literally four people when you were gone. all by myself. can you do something for once and clean the place up?"

i bit my lip as i stared at her. part of me wanted to confront her, call her out and tell her that she was no help and incredibly lazy. another part of me wanted to beat her ass right then and there, but the other part of me knew that if i started any work drama, i could potentially get fired and i should keep my mouth shut.

i took in a deep breath.

"i'll get on it," i replied, moving to grab a broom.

-

11:30pm. only thirty more minutes before i had to talk with chris in the parking lot. and only thirty more minutes that i had to deal with maeve any longer.

"y/n, these don't go here. god, do you do anything right?" she muttered as she pulled out a roll of receipt paper, and i stopped what i was doing. i carefully stood up and let out a soft sigh.

"sorry, maeve. nobody told me where those go." i responded under my breath.

maeve was sitting against the counter now, looking at herself in her phone camera and once again applying lip gloss to her lips.

i watched her for a few moments before going to grab a box. it ripped, and collapsed directly into my foot and caused a loud bang.

"ow, fuck," i breathed, biting my lip as i looked down at my foot, and then at the mess i had created. stupid box.

"y/n, are you kidding me? this just adds to the list of things we have to clean up. why are you so clumsy?" she asked.

i had enough.

"can you shut the fuck up?" i spat, causing her to cover her mouth in shock. i scoffed. "all you fucking do is sit there on your goddamn phone. i have done everything today, and you left me the other day. you haven't trained me yet you expect me to know everything around here. why are you such a fucking bitch?" i raised my voice, now visibly shaking with anger. my face was red, and i felt tears brimming my eyes. "i've worked like three shifts here and you treat me like this? name one thing you've done today." i questioned, and she visibly stuttered.

"absolutely nothing," a voice rang as i looked over and saw chris standing there. "she's done nothing but text me all day."

i cringed slightly. nice way to top it off.

"but chrissy-" maeve started, to which chris immediately stopped her.

"i told you to stop calling me that, it's annoying." he muttered before he stepped towards me and began picking some of the things up that i had dropped. my face scrunched a bit in confusion as i tried to piece together what he had said.

maeve seemed to hurt, but she put on a stupid face and quickly yet sloppily grabbed her things before she stomped away to clock out.

i took in a deep breath and sighed, looking over at chris who had now finished picking everything up. "thanks.. for doing that. you didn't have to." i mumbled, looking to the side.

chris didn't respond. he stood up and looked at me, smiling like a little kid. "that was fucking awesome, didn't know you had it in you to talk like that to someone, especially on the clock?"

i smiled shyly and looked down before rubbing my eyes and chuckling slightly. "she was just getting on my nerves..."

"she does for everyone, y/n. i promise. it's okay." he breathed, and i looked at him with a soft nod. "is your foot okay?" he asked, and i shrugged.

"it's fine, i guess. hurts, but i'll live."

"i'll walk you home." chris responded, very quickly, as i looked at him and smiled softly.

"whatever you say."

-

the air was kind of heavy, if i were being honest. it was hard to even think about everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

"y/n?"

i turned to chris as he called my name, and bit my lip. it was time to finally talk about everything.

"can you tell me what's up? why you left so suddenly last night, why you haven't answered my texts, what's wrong?" he questioned, as i simply walked beside him and let out a deep sigh.

"i just..." i took in a deep breath. i stopped walking and turned to chris. "when i moved here, i thought i had nobody. some people would be excited for a fresh start, but i dreaded every moment here. i met you, matt and nick, and realized that things may not be so bad here. especially when i'm with you," i whispered the last part, looking down at my feet.

chris had stopped walking as well, looking at me and nodding softly as he listened closely.

"after we had hung out, i truly thought that maybe i saw you as something more, and when we sat together at your place, i kind of knew from there that i for sure had something more than just the friendly thought of you." i smiled softly, and he nodded, knowing where i was going. "i like you a lot chris, i did from the moment we walked together to mcdonalds and the feelings i had for you, i thought were mutual. but then you got that text on your phone from maeve, and-"

"y/n," he breathed, stepping towards me.

i bit my lip and looked up at him, and he immediately shook his head.

"no." he almost laughed out, and i tilted my head. nothing was funny to me right now. "i don't know how she got me number. genuinely. that's reason one as to why i don't like her. reason two, she's an asshole. and reason three," he smiled softly at me as he gently brushed a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

with a soft lean forward and a slight tilt of the head, chris had pressed his lips to mine. i closed my eyes and leaned into the kiss, smiling softly against him. he smiled as well before carefully pulling away and moving his hands to carefully grasp mine.

"i like you."

i smiled softly and looked up at him. as we stood on the sidewalk and stared at each other, i bit my lip and shyly looked down before wrapping my arms tightly around him. "i'm sorry.." i whispered, and chris chuckled.

he wrapped his arms around me and gently rubbed my back, carefully swaying us both. he rested his head on top of mine.

"don't be sorry. you had every right to be confused and frustrated." he gently pulled away and looked at me before he carefully took my hand in his.

our fingers intertwined, as we began walking again.

"let's get you home."

HIIII HELLO THIS WAS A SHORT FANFIC BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS LIEKD ITTTTT IT'S MY FIRST THING ON TUMBLR !!!!

i am working on a matt fanfic rnnnn it'll be so awesome sauce, go read the teaser if you haven't already!!

taglist;;

@sweetbabydoe @orangeypepsi @sturniolosreads

[corpsepng]

Pls make a list of books you recommend to aspiring writers<3

Ok. Aspiring/burgeoning writer starter kit:

In writing anything you officially become a writer so that’s step one haha, no need to aspire too much. BUT. I’m going to soapbox for a bit using this ask as an excuse love u kissing u etc. So. This will barely be about books, but sort of the recipe of what I (personally and subjectively) think will help anyone who wants to grow their craft. (I know because I've been writing seriously for 14 years)

The act of writing is the best practice you can get but having a well from which to draw on creatively and skill wise in order to DO that practice is the trickier part. And sometimes we can be found lacking because we’re either NOT refilling that well enough, consciously enough, or only with the same sorts of things so it gets stagnant. This is a long one so I’ll shove it under the cut haha.

The recipe:

Study craft

Broaden horizons 

Diversify consumption

Consume with intention

Apply with reference

1) Study craft: this is the easiest to make sense of, right? I want to get good at writing so I read books about writing yada yada. Whatever you’re writing, it’s made up of a lot of moving parts, and you can dedicate time studying EACH PART, but figure out what you have the least experience with, or the most difficulty with, and start there. Also, before I go on to preach about why you shouldn’t solely stake your growth on some dusty old books, here’s some dusty old books I recommend:

The Elements of Style (strunk/white/kalman) (really quick and abbreviated advice, read every bit of this but remember: rules are important to know so you can decide which are worth following and which are in need of breaking for the pursuit of your goals. And nobodies perfect, or editors wouldn’t have a job)

Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott) (excellent work about fostering a process, important for everyone who finds themselves a little lost on how to just. Start)

Wonderbook (Jeff Vandermeer) (I haven’t read this one but knowing Vandermeers work this is on my TBR and I KNOW it’s going to be enlightening)

How to Read Literature like a Professor (Thomas C. Foster) (perfect for those who can see others stories working but unsure how to make their own work, I personally didn’t read much of this one but this will help people to more critically engage with what they’re consuming)

Save the Cat Writes a Novel/Joseph Campbells Hero’s Journey/On Writing and Worldbuilding/etc (all of these are on structure and craft in a concrete sense), I would recommend either choose one OR getting the abbreviated/digestible versions through YouTube because a lot of these can repeat themselves. I’m working on a playlist of writing craft/structure videos that I found helpful, so keep an eye out for that)

So. Studying craft should be a multidisciplinary process. Articles online, videos on niche media, books on craft or copying things from your favorites, looking for yourself in the movies you watch or fiction you read. Punctuation, prose, structure, rhetoric, character, world building, pacing, etc. Unfortunately, no matter how seasoned you become as a writer, you will always be learning new things about the craft itself.

It should be fun and I honestly feel like an enlightened little scientist when I see something that really cracks the open the magic for me (ex: scenes that serve more than one purpose are OF COURSE going to be more engaging that scenes with only one purpose- duh) (of COURSE magic systems should have a cost) (of COURSE the characters cant always win OR always lose)

2) Broaden horizons: consuming fiction and studying it is key to knowing how to reproduce it. We start with the training wheels of imitation before we ride away full speed into truly unique original storytelling. But the most impactful and thought-provoking stories are more than just fiction, so you need to know more than stories. Science, history, art, craft, math, music, cooking, psychology, religion, whatever!

Everyone always parrots “write what you know”, but what you KNOW can expand to influence what you write- so keep learning new things all the time and for fun, because you never know what could help your story. Your knowledge is not limited to experience alone, and research is your best friend. ASOIAF was so loved because George RR Martin loved not only fantasy, but British history. The Folk of the Air series is so loved because Holly Blacks special interest is faeries.

Note: this does not mean the study of OTHER PEOPLES trauma and experiences in an appropriative way, rather, become worldly. Because sure, knowing what a gunshot feels like adds realism, but I don’t care about realism if I don’t care about your characters or world. Science fiction is the best example of this: so many of those stories stick with us generationally because they’re pointing a lens back at humanity, asking big philosophical questions with science, which is something that touches us all.

But it doesn’t even need to be Big and Thematic like that. My dear friend @chaylattes has a project where she’s applied her love of plants to the world building AND plot, and has INVENTED whole plant species that enriched their work with something so exclusively Chay. No one else could write Andromeda Rogue because Chay, with specific interests and knowledge, put that specificity into the story.

3) Diversify consumption: surrounding yourself with more of the same means you’re going to regurgitate the same, derivatively. To be a hater for a moment: I can tell within the first chapter if someone only reads/watches one kind of media (m*rvel, fairy smut, grim dark nonsense, etc), and it’s distracting. When I read that derivative work, I’m not thinking about THEIR story. All I can think of is the people who did it first, and better.

Alternatively, the best work draws on the unexpected. Fantasy work taking notes from horror, science fiction including humanistic romance, romance with elements of mystery. RF Kuangs work feels so smart because she’s literally a PHD candidate who’s reading of academic writing. Cassandra Clares work is so interpersonally messy and hard to look away from because she watches a lot of reality television. 

Genre is less a set of cages to lock yourself inside of and more so the sections of a great big fictional playground- and you need to start playing. Rules, again, are guidelines that can be bent for the sake of your stories. I predominantly write scifi/fantasy/horror but some of my favorite stuff is literary fiction, historical nonfiction, thrillers, and poetry.

And if you can’t bring yourself to read different genres, it takes significantly less effort to WATCH different genres. Television and film are stories too, and can absolutely be learned from. 

4) Consume with intention: this is easier said than done. I, embarrassingly, admit that I did not have any reading comprehension skills until I was at least 19. I was consuming, but I wasn’t thinking a damn critical thought, just spitting it back out in a way that sounded smart.

Critical thinking skills (I say, on the website that historically lacks such a thing) are a muscle that needs to be exercised just as often as your writing muscle. Reading new work, studying craft, learning new shit- none of it matters if you can’t APPLY it all to a story. One can take a clock apart to learn how exactly it ticks, but it won't tell time like a watch until you put it back together.

The key is asking questions, all of the time about everything. That whole “why the curtains were blue” nonsense comes to mind, but if you want to be a good writer, (edit: a writer that cares about whether or not their work is vapid imitation of better work) learning to ask WHY the curtains are blue really does matters.

Ask why in ALL stories you consume, including your own. Why do Ghibli films make me feel calm? (Motifs of undisturbed nature, low stakes plots and quiet scenes of reprieve between action, characters that care about one another and aren’t afraid to show it) Why do I fly through a Gillian Flynn novel but take 8,000 years to read other books? (Concise descriptions, realistic but evocative premise, witty voice, contained and fast paced plot, an abundance of questions driving the mystery leading up to a satisfying crash of answers at the end) Why were the curtains blue, the coffee cup chipped, and the lipstick stain on the rim red instead of purple or pink? And why did the colors matter at all when the scene is about a father at a kitchen table? (You tell me!) Answers may vary.

You can put the work into learning the answer at the source (ie: listening to authors talk about their own work), or through the external interpretations of a critic (proceed with caution here), sure. These are even good when learning HOW to think critically if you don’t even know where to start. But your growth as a writer depends on your ability to answer your OWN questions. 

(Why do I feel tense in this scene? Is it because the character says they’re sweating and struggling to breathe? Is it because I’ve been told the monsters close? Is it because the sentences are getting shorter and the author keeps repeating descriptions of that monsters massive bloody teeth coming closer? Or is it because I know the gun in her hands has no bullets because another character already tried what she’s about to try?)

(Why do I feel sad in this scene? Is it because the characters mom just died? Is it because the character can’t even verbalize that sadness to others? Is it because none of the other characters seem to care enough to ask? Is it because of the wilted flowers in the corner? Or is it because there are daisies in the bouquet, and those were the moms favorite?)

I can nod and smile at 1000 opinions about “why X did Y and the end of Z” or “why X is Y and not Z” but how I felt when I consume something, how I was affected and how it made ME PERSONALLY answer my critical questions, that’s what’s important. That’s how we manufacture gay subtext in everything, because sometimes gay is a feeling as opposed to a fact.

Also, if those subjective answers are inconsistent among readers/viewers, the writer likely had their own intentions a little muddled. So, and I know I’m getting tangential but stay with me: romance. You know how you’re supposed to feel happy or convinced that the people falling in love are like, in love? And want to put yourself in that position or whatever? I CANNOT consume most romance media because it all comes off as categorically terrifying to me. I ask myself why the characters are doing what they do, reacting the way they react, saying way they say, and none of it feels romantic. I want to file a restraining order, and that’s the failing of the author, who did not make enough conscious choices in their work and accidentally created horror while writing their color by numbers trope slop of a “romance” novel. 

5) Apply with reference: is like taking all your ingredients and finally cooking. You want people to notice and respect when you add certain literary devices, descriptions, character choices, but not to the detriment of your work. Shows like stranger things are popular but divisive because their intertextuality and reliance on nostalgia bolster an otherwise unoriginal idea. They weren’t trying to reinvent the wheel, they were writing a love letter to Stephen Spielberg, and are riding that wave into the ground. But the fairy dick renaissance doesn’t feel nearly as palatable as season one of stranger things did because a lot of times they aren’t using the ingredients in their own way, rather, following the recipe to a T and selling it as new. Food really is the perfect metaphor and sorry in advance because I’m really going to run with it here lol. 

When I eat a meal, first of all I know I'm eating food, so don't try and trick me into thinking otherwise or I'll only get annoyed. I want to be able to taste all of what’s in front of me, spice, salt, sweet, bitter, etc and know what what you said you've fed me is really actually truly what I've eaten. One ingredient, or writing choice, shouldn’t overpower another, or surprise me so much I can’t take another bite. I shouldn’t try something you call “sauced and baked yeast patty garnished with fermented milk and smoked meat” and think “this shits pizza” because you didn’t even try to jazz it up more than what the instructions on the digiorno box said. I also shouldn’t bite into something you call a pizza and only taste bread because you really like bread and forgot that a pizza is more than just bread. 

But inversely, avoiding all ingredients gets you weird, nary inedible shit like charred milk reduction with lamb mist or whatever. Show me you have knowledge in your genre by referencing it AND remixing it, show me that you studied craft by foreshadowing properly or pacing well, show me you’re more than an AI writerbot by deepening your work with your unique and human influence, show me you read broadly by adding surprising ingredients, and show me that you mean every word you write because you made the curtains blue instead of yellow, and topped your pizza with pepperoni instead of pineapple.

Congrats on making it all the way through my rambling, hope I made sense and that this helped!

[mistwhisperexpress]

I'm not Jewish myself but I do belong to a couple of minority demographics that receive denigration for one reason or another, along with people trying to speak for me.

My only real advice is that there comes a point where it's no longer "defending the oppressed" and more infantilization. There is such a thing as being too sensitive. This is a kid's game, not propaganda meant to encourage hatred. Same as any other demographic, Jewish people can speak on their own behalf. They don't need others' help, they only need a listening ear. To do anything else is risking spoiling the fun for everyone including those you're trying to speak for.

Also "goblin" as far as I've seen is as much an umbrella term as anything else. Jewish people don't hold a cultural copyright on financial greed and hooked noses. (may I direct you to dragons and stereotypical witches respectively) I could probably name a dozen other fairy tale and mythological creatures that have such traits.

Suggesting that SSO's new little green goblin (Grinch? Norman Osborn?) is a caricature of Jewish people makes as much sense as saying the orcs in Tolkien's legendarium represent black people or that the white walkers from ASOIAF represent white people, aka little to no sense once you look past the surface. The comparison of Jewish people and goblins alone could be deemed borderline antisemitic in itself. It's misguided, but forgivable.

Worry more about enjoying the game and less about whether SSO is offending a group who are more than capable of defending themselves in a kid's game. ❤️

Okay I don’t blame you for assuming I’m not Jewish because apparently I haven’t mentioned that here yet even though I (mis)remembered I had, but this still feels really weird to send? Telling someone who’s not part of a minority to not speak for them is absolutely okay, the job of people outside a minority is to raise up their voices, not add their own, so I have no issue with that aspect and I am genuinely sorry that’s been done to you, but why are you, someone who by your own words isn’t Jewish, speaking on if goblins antisemitic or not at all? You are speaking for/over us there, and you would be even if I wasn’t Jewish.

I am Jewish, and obviously while we aren’t a monolith, no group of people is, I personally find this depiction of goblins (green and greedy/thief) antisemitic, and with much of the world going mask off with their antisemitism right now I’m not as open to giving benefits of the doubt as I used to be. I do believe this was a mistake on SSO’s part and not intentional as I said in a reblog, but that doesn’t make it any less harmful or antisemitic.

I have done quite a bit of research into the history of goblins and when they began to be used as an antisemitic caricature (as early as the 1800s thanks to the Goblin Market poem, which is just classic blood libel) because I make dice as a job and I want to enjoy D&D without antisemitism and the whole dice goblin thing, and there is a very large connection. This isn't unfounded.

You’re right in that goblins are a bit of an umbrella term, they are, which is why it’s important to let the antisemitic version of them die. You can have goblins that are just mischievous, not green, big nosed, greedy, sneaky, and untrustworthy. It’s really easy to not have antisemitic goblins, but unfortunately the antisemitic version is a mainstream staple and that doesn’t just go away overnight.

If you apply harmful stereotypes to anything, even if it was completely harmless before, you’re going to get a harmful caricature. That’s what happened to goblins, and that’s what SSO did with the Snow Goblins. They took the popular depiction which is the antisemitic version, and applied it to the game without a thought because it’s been normalized to the point most people don’t even consider it may have less than great origins. Like Rapunzel and Hansel and Gretel. They’re so normal the vast majority of people don’t even realize they were created for antisemitic reasons. Antisemitism is sneakily within a lot of things. You don’t start recognizing it until you become familiar with the tropes and stereotypes.

I’m also going to bet if they’re European in origin, the “dozen other fairy tale and mythological creatures that have such traits” you could name also had that done to them if they weren’t antisemitic to begin with. And since you mentioned them, it’s also what was done to the stereotypical version of witches, which is antisemitic and has a very long history of such going back to accused women who were burned being forced to wear Jewish clothing of the time as further humiliation. It’s also where the classic pointy hat comes from, since a pointy cone hat was what we were forced to wear to signify we were Jewish. Witches actually share a lot with goblins in antisemitic traits and SSO also needs to address Pi hitting all but the green skin.

You clearly know a little about the issue, as you brought up The Nose when I didn't, but you also don't know nearly enough to speak about this at all as evidenced by you not knowing the antisemitic history regarding witches, so please don't. And I never said they were a Jewish caricature, I said they were antisemitic, there's a difference. A Jewish caricature is the happy merchant meme.

What we're also not going to do is the whole 'you're the antisemitic one for seeing Jewish people in goblins' thing. That has and always will be an utterly bullshit dismissive argument. The whole point of this kind of caricature is to normalize the stereotypes so when they're actually applied to people you don't blink an eye, like how very few goyim blinked an eye at Mother Gothel in Tangled. I'm currently sick so I really don't have all the smart brain power to go into that right now and I hope someone else can. It's not antisemitic to notice when antisemitic caricatures have been applied to something. That's a very good thing to notice actually, and I want more goyim to start noticing that.

So it does actually make more sense than someone saying those things (which I don't think I've ever seen someone argue??), which I'll get into under the cut to clear up any confusion about how SSO's Snow Goblins tie into the antisemitic depictions, since a couple people were confused in my initial post.

And I am worrying more about enjoying the game; that's the whole reason I brought this up, because I'd like to enjoy a game that's been with me for more than half my life and means a lot to me, and this is preventing me from fully doing that.

Again, I am genuinely sorry people have spoken over and for you. That is wrong and not at all okay. And I'm sorry if I misread the tone of your ask.

Okay !! Education with Mandy time. This has been a long post but I hope you'll all stick with me for just a little longer.

And real quick before we get into the specifics, I want to mention that Christmas time is one of the times where you want to be especially careful about things like this, given the history present with characters like Scrooge.

So for those who don't know what the Snow Goblin is, this is the creature in question:

The typical antisemitic goblin is green, greedy, big nosed, and some flavor or sneaky and untrustworthy.

The Snow Goblin quite obviously hits on the green. If this creature looked like a normal capran and was named something like Snow Imp or Mischievous Capran, there would be no issue. Because bastardy little guys stealing things on it's own isn't an antisemitic stereotype. It's when there's multiple things that are the problem, like green skin, or in this case fur, and calling them something with a very large history of antisemitism when combined with those very traits.

The whole schtick of this little guy is they steal your snowflakes if you don't catch them in time, so it also hits on the greedy and untrustworthy tropes. If the Snow Goblin looked like a normal capran but was still called a goblin, there would still be an issue because the antisemitic goblin isn't just green, it's also bastard of greedy kinds, like a thief not out of necessity but of pleasure. "Thief" isn't directly an antisemitic stereotype, but it's very much there as an undercurrent. The "Jewish people are unfairly taking my money!" implication from The Middle Ages when the stereotype began, when money lender was pretty much the only job we were allowed to have.

If the Snow Goblin was called something else but was still green, I wouldn't say its directly antisemitic, but I would side eye it and not feel comfortable. It's kinda like the Grinch, ignoring the fact Dr. Seuss may or may not have been Jewish depending on who you ask because there's conflicting information. It's not directly anything bad, but I'm going to be a little wary of the intention and engage with it extra carefully.

Its about the combination.

I can't tell you exactly when the mainstream antisemitic goblin came together, because I don't know and it's really hard to find information on that, but it's there, and you can't deny that. I don't necessarily blame SSO for contributing to it's perpetuation, because you don't think to look deeper into something when you have no reason to think it's harmful, but I do hope they change it. And hire some Jewish sensitivity readers because this wouldn't have happened with more Jewish people around to catch it, and with witches being a focus of the story now I am admittedly a little nervous about how that'll be handled.

Also, this is all unintentionally made worse by use of the capran model, because it also gets to hit on the whole fun we're in league with the devil thing and the Jewish people have horns thing. I don't know when exactly those started either (drawings of us with "devil features" have been around a long time), but I know the we have horns one was popularized when Michelangelo decided to give his sculpture of Moses horns, because that's what we look like apparently. There are still people who genuinely believe we have horns. I feel robbed. Horns a super cool, I want horns. Where are my horns?

And before someone says it, yes this is a lot of words for something low stakes in a kids game. There are a lot of more important things right now. But that's exactly why it's mattering to me right now. I don't want to be silent about antisemitism while it's on the rise, but I don't know enough about the current aspects of that to speak on it. I do however know a lot about how it applies to fantasy, and I have had about three work in progress essays about the goblin issue to prepare for this.

And also before someone says it, Snow Gremlin isn't exactly an acceptable new name either. It's basically Snow Goblin 2.0. Gremlins aren't goblins (though they have become a bit synonymous and interchangeable), but they were popularized by the massive and proud antisemite Roald Dahl, and I have a hard time believing he didn't put any of those beliefs into them.

[gimmethemaneskin]

Put Me In A Movie (Mickey Altieri Smut)

The deafening silence of the lecture hall was interrupted by the sound of my heels clacking down the steps, stopping once I arrived at the desk in the front of the room. Mickey had told me to meet him here so he could help me study for our exam on how movies influence culture and vice versa. With his extensive knowledge of movies, I thought he’d be the best to help me find the best references. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s nice to look at. 

“Looks like I beat him here.” I whisper to myself, smoothing my short skirt over my butt to take a seat on the edge of the desk. I pull out my notebook and my notes from our last class, trying to seem like I had somewhat of an outline and not that he’s very much going to be helping write this essay. I hear the door slam as his voice echoes throughout the large room.

“Sorry! I got held up after class, there was something I had to take care of.” Mickey hustles down the stairs, panting slightly like he just ran across campus to get here.

“No worries, I haven’t been here long.” I glance him up and down quickly, so he doesn’t notice. Damn, how does he always looks so good? His tight black short sleeve clung to his chest with sweat, his purple button down discarded exposing his muscular arms. His hair tousled excessively, from him running his hands through it so often. Lips plump from his teeth repeatedly assaulting them. I watch them part as he starts talking about something but I’m too focused on what they would feel like against mine or..other places that I have to blink and shake myself out of it. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Wow! Your attention span is amazing! I don’t know why you even need my help with this project.” He feigns enthusiasm while rummaging through his bag for his notes. 

“Ha ha ha. You know, I think Randy’s around. Im sure he’d be happy to help.” I hop off the desk and move to walk past him, but he grabs my bicep and squeezes lightly. I feel the breath gasp from my lips and pray he couldn’t hear it. 

“Yeah. By the time he stops tripping over his words and staring at your boobs, you might end up with a half decent paper.” He steps closer, looming down at me, still holding my arm. “Or you could have an amazing paper and a much better piece of eye candy.” He lets me go and steps back, gesturing to his body while wiggling his eyebrows at me. God, he’s so corny. 

“Alright, you’re a bit overdressed for how I usually like my eye candy but you’ll do.” I brush past him and take a seat in the front pew. I wonder if he can tell how desperate I am to get him out of his clothes. If he’s caught on, he’s doing a horrible job at making me pay attention to his words. Stepping up to the desk, he slides his hand up the front of his shirt revealing his happy trail, his toned, tan stomach, all the way to his chest. He playfully unveils a nipple before pulling the shirt down with mock embarrassment. I smirk and roll my eyes, crossing my legs to apply pressure to my clit that’s already throbbing in between my legs. The horniness in my brain has completely overshadowed whatever reasoning I had left when I utter “Why don’t we play a game instead?” 

He laughs and shakes his head. “What kind of game?” The kind where you absolutely rail me.

“Well since I know your dick is always hard when it comes to horror movies, why don’t we play some trivia, with a twist. You describe a killer and I have to guess the film. If I get one right, then you have to lose a piece of clothing. If I lose-” 

“Oh, I can see where this is heading.” He cuts me off, staring intently at me from where he’s leaning on the desk. He pushes off after a moment of us just looking into each others eyes. He grasps the seat I’m in on either side and leans in to my face like he’s gonna kiss me. He pants out his breath slightly, so close I could lick his face. I feel myself leaning in unconsciously, when he says “You’re on.” and goes back to staring at his notes. He faces me, looking very serious. 

“This killer only uses a knife and doesn’t say a word.”It doesn’t take me long with my answer. 

“Easy. Michael Myers, Halloween.” He claps, winking at me before pulling his shirt over his head. He tosses it at me and I grab it, placing it on the chair next to me. 

“Alright, this killer…” He trails, racking his brain for a good one.“This killer has mommy issues.”

“You’re letting me win at this point, Norman Bates.” I bite my lip, ready for my eyes to feast on more of his skin. He imitates a buzzer noise.

“Nope, wrong. It was Jason Voorhees.” He gestures to my blouse, ready to see some of my skin.

“That’s not fair, how would I have gotten that?”

“Hey, I didn’t come up with the game to avoid my responsibilities.” He turns his head while smirking at me. I sigh, standing to start unbuttoning my top. He licks his bottom lip, instinctively as I get lower. I thank myself for actually wearing a cute bra today instead of no bra like usual, but I know I was already fantasying about this moment since he agreed to help me. I pull the fabric out from my skirt where it was tucked in and toss it with his shirt next to me. I feel a sense of confidence wash over me as he takes in my figure. Striding up next to him, I take a seat back on the desk. Crossing my legs making my skirt ride up higher on my thigh.

“Well?” He blinks a few times and clears his throat, continuing the little game.

“This killer is from another dimension and feeds on fear.” I laugh, he really isn’t trying at all.

“Pennywise the dancing clown, otherwise known as IT.” I reach out a hand and tap the button on his pants. “What’re you waiting for, Mickey?” I bring my voice down while leaning toward him. He contemplates taking them off before looking back at me.

“Ya know, it would probably be bad if we got caught in here. Not wearing clothes. Someone might get the wrong idea. I mean, this is a study session after all.” He places his hands on either side of me again, while I uncross my legs so he can stand between them. I decide I've been teased enough and run my hands up his hips to his chest. His eyes flutter closed as I move to drag my hands down the length of his arms to his wrists. He quickly grabs me instead, holding my wrists together in front of me like I’m cuffed. I watch as his eyes pan up my body slowly, lingering on my chest for a moment before looking back into my eyes from under his lashes. I pull my hands from his grasp to cradle his face, bringing his ear to my lips to whisper,

“If you’re so scared, go lock the door and pull the curtain.” He looks for any sign I’m joking before turning heel and jogging towards the back of the room. He glances back to smirk at me momentarily, causing him to trip up the stairs and I can’t help the loud cackle I let out before clamping my hand over my mouth. He finally makes it to the top, looking both ways out the door before lightly closing and locking it, pulling the shade firmly down and turning the shades on the other windows beside it as well. Luckily, its a Friday so most of the staff and students had already gotten the fuck out of here and the few loiterers would most likely be on their way out too. Mickey takes the steps two at a time, undoing his pants as he does. Once he reaches me, he puts his hand behind my neck and kisses me fiercely. His lips soften after a moment, parting to lick across mine. I push my tongue against his as he envelopes my mouth, his free hand grabbing my hips and pulling me to the edge of the table. He pulls back, panting and slides his hands up the outside of my thighs, pushing my skirt up then pulling my thong down. I lift up to slip them off, watching as he shoves them into his pocket. I tilt my head to the side, raising a brow at him.

“What? I don’t want any evidence left and forgotten.” He lays his palm on my chest, pushing me to lay on my back. Lowering himself to his knees, he spreads my legs further apart. His hands rest on my inner thighs as he rubs circles with his thumbs absentmindedly. Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss right above my clit before pulling away sharply. I recoil, wondering if he heard something. “Wait! I need to grab something.” He runs over to his bag, moving things around rapidly. He grabs one thing, begins to leave before reaching in again and returning to his kneeling position in front of me. He places the first item, a condom, on the table next me and takes the second item in both of his hands, presenting it to me. 

“A camera?” I ask, not as if I don’t know what a camera looks like but wondering what exactly he’s trying to film.

“Better. A video camera.” He says, giddily. “I wanna make a movie with you.” He whispers against my lips, pulling my bottom lip with his teeth, looking at me for an answer.

“I think you take your major a bit too seriously sometimes.” I flick my tongue against his lips, which he parts to devour my mouth, cupping my head as if I’d pull away.

“ ’S that a yes?” He pants, before replacing his mouth so I don’t get a chance to respond. I finally undo his pants, sliding my hand against the ridge of his hip bone and lower. Taking his almost fully hard cock in my hand, I slowly begin stroking the head, smearing his precum around and the noise that escapes him makes me clamp my legs around the back of his toned thighs.

“As long as this isn’t apart of your grade, I’m down.” I pant when he finally pulls back. The speed at which he sets up the camera could give cheetahs a run for their money. He positions it so its focused on him between my legs. He looks up through his lashes again, smirking that somewhat menacing, but overall arousing, smirk at me. Mickey wastes no more time, licking up my pussy to my clit, flicking the tip up and down roughly before taking it into his warm, wet mouth. He moans into my skin, sucking harder as he pulls back and lets go with a pop. He continues to lick through my labia, dipping his tongue into my hole, only the tip at first then plunging the whole thing inside me. The feeling of his warm tongue jabbing up into my g spot while he brings two of his fingers to my clit makes me bite down on my lip hard. If I hadn’t already been so horny, I could’ve let him do this forever. However, Mickey is also overeager and his quick motions and intensity on my clit is building my orgasm faster than I expected. I grip his hair from the root, tugging a bit hard. “Mickey, you’re gonna make me cum.”

He pulls his tongue out, slowing the circles he’s rubbing on my clit.

“Well, I can’t have that. Not yet.” He removes his hands from me completely, looking into my eyes as he brings his fingers covered in my wetness to my mouth. Moving the camera to make sure its capturing everything, he pushes them past my parted, panting lips and I close them, now running my tongue up and down the underside of them and rolling it around the tips so he can imagine what he has in store for him. Mickey’s hazel eyes glimmer in the light of the midday sun coming in through the cracks of the curtains behind the desk I’m perched on, the hunger in them more evident than the bulge in his pants. My horny brain will never be able to forget how his face looks, half cast in shadow, half glowing in the sunlight as he pulls his pants down past his hip bones, his dick bouncing up as his toned legs come into my view. I firmly grab him, swiping my thumb over his slit before slowly pumping while twisting my wrist. He leans forward to kiss me roughly, taking a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back. I fight against him for a minute, wanting to prolong the kiss as well as enjoying the sting on my scalp. Our mouths part with a loud pop from the way he was sucking on my bottom lip. He pushes me to lay back on the desk a second time, he then makes his way around the desk and positions my head over the edge of the desk. He leans down close to my face.

“Open your mouth.” He states and I feel a flood of wetness between my thighs. I open my mouth, sticking out my tongue to which Mickey groans. He purses his lips and spits into my mouth, his warm saliva dripping down my tongue into my throat. “Don’t swallow it.”

He stands again, grasping his dick in his hand, he taps the tip to my lips twice before I part them. Immediately he slides into my mouth, pushing as far as he can go before I gag. I start to add suction as he repeatedly thrusts into my throat, treating me like the whore I am, keeping my tongue out so I can slide it against his balls occasionally. He places his hand on my throat as he slowly starts to push further into my throat. I hold my breath as I feel his dick twitch against where he has his hand around my neck. “Fuck, you feel so good.” I hum in response, making Mickey roll his eyes back in pleasure. I clench my legs together, throbbing at the lack of friction I’m receiving while looking at the aroused distress on Mickey’s face. He pulls out almost all the way, my lips contracting around his tip to trap it in my mouth. I begin flicking my tongue against his frenulum before swirling it around a few times and sucking it further into my mouth. 

“Goddamn, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.” He pulls back, taking a step so he can look at my red face, covered in mine and his spit. 

“Well, I can’t have that.” I use his words from earlier as I flip myself around to face him, standing up. I lean in to kiss him and he leans as well, before quickly turning me around and bending my over the desk. His chest presses to my back as he whispers in my ear “Im gonna destroy you, baby.” With that, he starts to push his swollen head into my wet entrance. Even with so much foreplay, its a tight fit. He’s a decent length, about 8 inches if I’m correct but the thickness of his cock is what’s stretching me in such a delicious way. I can feel my walls give way finally as his tip fully penetrates me, widening just enough to accommodate him. He huffs out a breath as he continues to fit himself inside me, pulling out slightly as he gets to about halfway then sliding back in further than before. He repeats this until he pushes his hips forward all the way, his balls lightly slapping against my clit, which is enough to make me clamp down on him. As I do, his hands grip into the skin of my shoulders, stabilizing himself before he pulls back and slams back in. Mickey’s barely moved and I can already tell that I’m not gonna last. His pace quickens, fucking my pussy open so he can slip in and out more easily. I hear the loud smack of his hand coming down on my ass cheek, the sting coming a moment after causing a new flood of wetness to gush down his dick, dripping down my thighs. Mickey realizes the affect it had so he does it again to the opposite cheek this time, alternating two more times on each side before groping my ass in his palms, his big hands moving with ease over my rapidly reddening skin. At this point, my ears are deaf to the noises slipping past my lips, consumed only in the feeling of Mickey’s skin slapping mine. I reach a hand down between my legs to cup his balls in my hand, isolating each one and lightly rolling them between my fingers. I feel them tighten as I go, clearly making it difficult for Mickey not to cum. He wraps his hand around my throat once more, pulling my body flush against him. Pressing a chaste kiss to my jaw, he then turns me around to face him again. I sit on the desk as he guides me to do so, legs still spread as far as is comfortable. The new position makes me moan unconsciously as he pushes back in, hoisting one of my legs into the crook of his arm to get deeper. He thrusts hard into my g spot, making me grip onto his forearms with my nails digging into his flesh. The half hiss half groan he lets out alerts me that he’s also getting off on the pleasure of the pain. I pull his face back to mine so I can taste him while he fucks into me at debilitating pace, each time hitting my g spot and making me clench around him harder. I know he can tell I’m close because he speeds up, pumping into me so rapidly I can’t help but cum without warning. A gush of cum begins to coat him, making it easier to ram into me harder and faster as his own orgasm builds. He pulls out of me suddenly to turn me the long way on the desk, crawling on top of me and immediately resuming his assault on my coochie. He holds my legs back, bent towards my face as he slows down to watch his dick slowly disappear inside me, pulling out agonizingly slow, then pushing back in inch by inch. He leans down to take one of my nipples into his mouth, circling his tongue around the bud before clamping his teeth around it and biting down, pulling up at the same time as he starts to pound me harder than before. My hands instinctively grip the sides of the desk for leverage, my head scraping along the edge each time he plows his cock fully into my fluttering walls. I watch his eyes roll back as he brings his fingers back to my clit, sending a new wave of pleasure through me. I reach up to squeeze my titties as he matches the pace on my clit to his hips driving into me. The bruises from his hip bones will be so worth it tomorrow. Something snaps in him as he gets closer, pushing my legs back as far as they’ll go while he grips my thighs harshly. His pace most definitely the fastest its been as his cock splits me open, the skin around my vagina expanding to his will. I feel myself begin to shake as my orgasm creeps up, clenching and unclenching around Mickey wildly before I whimper “Fuck, Mickey I’m gonna cum.” Just uttering the words makes me arch my back into the pleasure overcoming me, cumming so  hard it makes his thrusts stutter, my pussy so tight he can barely continuing obliterating me. He grabs onto my left tit with one hand, the other squeezing my hip like a python as he mutters out “Uhh, I’m gonna..-FUCK.” He pulls out fast, pumping his cock only twice before his hot cum is splattered all over my chest and stomach, some landing in the ends of my hair. He falls forward onto my chest, groaning so deliciously as he grinds down into me. His dick sliding across my stomach, smearing his seed around. He stands, much to my dismay and clears his throat.

“I hope this study sesh helped you understand things better cause I sure know a lot more now than I did entering this hall.” He says as he uses a tissue to wipe me off, leaning down to place a soft kiss to the top of my thigh. 

“Oh yes, I feel so much more confident about the assignment now.” I pant out, still trying to compose myself. He quickly puts his pants back on then tosses me my blouse and skirt. Once we quickly redress I start to talk as does Mickey.

“Go ahead.” He laughs with sigh. I clear my throat, thinking my words over.

“I was just gonna say, I do also need help in biology. If you're free tomorrow night, you could come by my dorm so we can��study.” I cast my eyes down, not wanting to meet his eyes in case he’s not a fan of this being more than a one time thing. I see him step towards me as he says “We don’t need an excuse for me to fuck you stupid if its in your own dorm.” I chuckle along with Mickey as I shake my head. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He snatches the camera off the table and stops the recording. “I’ll be needing this for when I’m going to bed tonight.”

[lara635kookie]

My Ship Ranking:

Okay so a few warnings about this:

1-I added all the ships I could find. If there is any missing, let me know and I'll add later.

2-This is my opinion and it isn't meant to be offensive to anyone. You can agree or disagree and it's totally fine. If you wanna do your own rankings, I would love to read it.

3-It's a long post that I've been writing for weeks. I made revisions but if something passed through me and you guys notice, you can tell me.

1-Red Crackle:

Is that even a surprise to anyone? Red Crackle is my whole life and owns my entire soul lol. But jokes aside, these two are just so linked and have a foundation not even time and space can separate. Even when they're apart by circunstances, they meet again. They always comeback to one another. Duane Capizzi said in this interview Carmen and Gray "will definitely meet again":

https://youtu.be/PIjX9rGvUmk?si=4paV3k7alKrt-B4f

And I haven't seen other interviews yet but in this specific interview the person just says Duane said Carmen doesn't see Gray in a flirty light and brushes it off asking about Carulia. Then Duane just talks more about Julia's character and then says, "if it's there, it's intentional" which indicates, from what I got, that the double meaning is there, you can choose how you see and interpret it. They could have made the carulia interactions more clear and chose not to do so on purpose. So I imagine the same thing applies to Red Crackle, Carmivy, Jeantonio, etc. The show ended so now is up to us to interpretate with what we have. Even if Duane, and the whole crew of the show overall, ship something, we can ship something different. As the show is not romance focused, we can choose from what we have. And no way there's no people who ship Red Crackle among the show staff. Michael Goldsmith(Gray's voice actor) seemed to ship. This guy seems to as well(not sure tho) considering the way he directed the holy trinity of Red Crackle episodes:

Gray's character is fundamental for Carmen to be the person she is. Can you picture Carmen jumping from the plane with El Topo, Le Chevre or Tigress? She trusted only Gray enough to do that. Without him she wouldn't have jumped, and would not realize what V.I.L.E. truly is about. And if so, a lot later, maybe too late. And at the end, they could have chosen Devineaux, Zari, Julia, or even Ivy to save Carmen with the A.C.M.E. machine. I think it would be kinda nice if it were Ivy so she would have an interaction with evil Carmen, like Zack had at the ferris wheel, and would impress A.C.M.E. instead of just randomly joining it with Zack out of nowhere at the end. But I'm glad it was Gray and then Shadowsan finished the job. The thing that gets to me is that she looks to the crackle rod on the floor and screams:"Gray!". The person she always prioritized the safety of the most was "dead", by her. Then she asks what has she done and I think here she could have also shown some concern for Devineaux and Julia. Specially Julia. Because Devineaux was there, standing, and depending on the impact of the thing that fell on her head, she could have died. And she seemed to faint under a curtain that also could kill her by asphyxiation if she didn't wake up on time. But the only thing she cared about was Gray. She could have remembered on screen she hurt other people too by seeing the crackle rod, but she only remembered Gray and I was like:"But what about Julia? Aren't you worried about her? Carmen is not gonna care about her at all? Really?" "That's it? That's the ending?" I believe that if there was no red crackle shipper there, the show would be a lot different. Gray's character wouldn't be so important as it was if that was the case. Speaking of which, I want a red crackle week because I never participated in one and I want to write an AU about what would have happened if Gray decided do join Team Red on the train to Paris and on the Himalayans and red crackle week is the perfect excuse for that. Also one if Carmen decided to go back to V.I.L.E. on the train to Paris to destroy them from the inside. If we have a Red Crackle Week it could be in December with a Christmas-themed vibe, @redcrackle-week ? Christmas is my favorite holiday and Red Crackle is one of my favorite ships, perfect combination.

2-Carmivy:

Again, no surprises. I've got nothing to say about this two that I haven't said before. They are so in love and they have my heart. I'll never understand why they are so underrated, they deserve more appreciation.

3-Jeantonio:

It's almost a crime that they aren't first place, but they were so close. They are like, the only ship the whole entire fandom agrees it's canon and I got mad respect for them for being able to unite the shipers because everyone likes them and wants to protect them(specially El Topo). They were clearly dating and were romantic boyfriends and I would do pretty much almost anything for them.

4-Cleobellum:

The same thing with Jeantonio, they are just a little bit lower because they don't have the general consent and less moments but to me they are a married couple.

5-Chasari/Zarineaux:

I think they would be the greatest girlboss and malewife ever. Devineaux is a dumbass but he would be Zari's dumbass. The little they interacted I could tell they would be an amazing couple. I just can see it. I can picture all their interactions perfectly in my head. When Zari fell into his arms, and the way Devineaux held her. Zari telling Devineaux not to be in her way and slowly getting softer to him with time, like, they would be such a good storyline. I wanted them together so badly so they deserve this place at my top 5.

6-Chasulia:

These two are a little bit lower because I'm not sure about them. At the start, they are a definite no. But after the fourth season Devineaux was prasing Julia the way she deserves to be praised and treating her better, redeeming for his past actions towards her and actually listening to her. He admited that he was wrong with Julia and did better. They are such adorable dorks together and while I love them as a platonic ship, I feel like they could also work romantically. It would be an interesting plot. I feel like most people think romance and friendship can't coexist but it can and it should. These two combined are one of the factors that make a good and healthy relationship and I feel like Devineaux and Julia have potential to be that way. I would like to know more about their Interpol days like why they were partnered together and how did they got to Carmen Sandiego, etc. So because of their wholesome platonic relationship that may or may not be affected my romance, they are a little bit lower but they are amazing and I love them.

7-CarChase:

This one, I did not expect to be this high up. First, the ship name is just as funny as "Red Crackle". Carmen and Devineaux did have quite a few number of car chases. Second, I'm aware that they have a 12 years age gap but I have a pretty high tolerance for age gaps. While I would rather not have an age gap too big for romantic relationships, 17 years age gap or less I don't mind. It bothers me a little, but it's not that big of a deal. If it's 18 years or more, it bothers me because I go like:"They could be their dad/mom." I just think they would be so funny together. The idea of them is surprisingly good. It makes me laugh when I think of Coach Brunt calling him handsome and Carmen being so done and after maybe going like:"He ain't ugly"(Carmen Sandiego is that kind of show that the animation is so pretty nothing and no one is ugly). And Carmen not wanting to see Devineaux because it's "really not a good time" and then seeying him even more to the point she doesn't mind it and even starts appreciating it. They would be a hell of enemies to friends to lovers story. They interact more than Carulia, but not as much as Chasulia so seventh place sounds about right for them. Not my favorite but I approve.

8-SpinTrap/FlyKick:

I don't know what their official ship name is but they are assigned partners and that, by V.I.L.E. standards, for me, usually means they make out. I wanted more development for both of their characters, which we don't know much about, so eighth place sounds nice. They clearly work well together and have a great harmony so I would say they are a cheaper version of Red Crackle. Like: "Kid:Mom, I want Red Crackle. Mom:We have Red Crackle at home." And they are the Red Crackle at home in question. Still, it works. Of course they are nothing compared to Red Crackle, but they still work. In the, idk three times we saw Spin Kick and Flytrap, you can tell they have the chemestry to convince people they are a romantic couple so this place is well deserved for them.

9-Dokusan:

No, you haven't read wrong, it means Shadowsan and Lady Dokuso. Just hear me out:I can picture it perfectly:They meet at V.I.L.E. academy, they fall in love, they start dating. But then, Shadowsan is promoted to a member of the faculty, a position Lady Dokuso also wanted, but she was happy for her boyfriend anyway. Then, it ends up not working out a faculty member dating a mere operative and then they break up but still love each other, but their relationship was full of ups and downs and they are both bitter and salty about it. Then, Shadowsan backfires V.I.L.E. and joins Team Red and Lady Dokuso can finally have a chance as a faculty member but at the cost of destroying Shadowsan. The drama, the angst, the complexity of loving each other but being different and being in two sides that can't collide or meet in the middle. If you stop to think about it, they are basically a toxic version of Red Crackle that went wrong(Yes, I use Red Crackle as a parameter to measure other couples because they are the standard). So why are they so high up? Because a sad ending love story can also work. Representativity matters and tragic love stories deserve to have some spotlight sometimes.

10-PaperTiger:

It wouldn't be me if these two didn't make it to the top 10. I know Paper Star is a psycho so she can't actually feel love or empathy for anyone other then herself, but hooking up without commitment works for these two. It would also hold some drama like:Paper Star and Tigress start being passive aggressive to each other, then they start being assigned to even more and more missions together and get to know each other better, Tigress falls in love for Paper Star and Paper Star starts caring for her a little bit more than the others and they start confiding in each other and telling things about themselves they wouldn't tell anyone else, and they try a secret relationship because Tigress accepted Paper Star's condition, but they end up not working out because of the V.I.L.E. work and the missions that they put in first place other than the relationship because they aren't El Topo and Le Chevre, unlike them, Tigress and Paper Star have other priorities and other things to worry about than each other. As you can see, I really love some angst, and they had the chemestry for that. Their versatility could also hold some fluff and funny moments like:Tigress judging Jeantonio for cuddling then doing the exact same thing with Paper Star, Tigress saying Paper Star isn't that bad to them(she is bad to everyone else tho, she would only be "soft", in her strange way, for Tigress), them trying each other's clothes and weapons, them teaching each other stuff, going out on dates, they would be V.I.L.E.'s IT couple like evil Carmen and Crackle were people, there's no way around it.

[icestudios]

The History Of Ice Studios:

Ice Studios is a company that appears to have been created by Renell Medrano as early as 2016. The earliest mentions of this company are by Renell herself in interviews with Vogue. Jess Moloney is not mentioned in either of the earlier interviews nor was she mentioned in anything more recent that can be found about Ice Studios. Renell seems to always take full credit for this studio.

Yet, somehow, Jess seems to be listed as the co-founder of this studio. The first instance of her having contact with Renell that can be found is in 2019, two years after the studio was founded and two years after what seems like her having any connection to Jess in any capacity. That is not to say that Jess did not help to found the studio, but if she had, why has Renell failed to ever mention her name in any news publication where she is asked about the studio that she runs?

Despite these discrepancies, Jess is in the business of taking clearly stolen media and adding #IceStudios or @IceStudios.co to these photos on IG for some unknown reason. Initially, she merely added this to the post, and the theory is that the intent was to artificially increase engagement for IceStudios. More recently she started to add the caption “Post-Production” and then attribute Ice Studios for that.

However, on several of these posts where she claims involvement directly, it is clear that Ice Studios or herself was not involved in the production of these images, nor do they own them. Most recently, she posted a campaign for Tommy Hilfiger where she claims that Ice Studios did “post-production” for the images. None of which can possibly be true.

The campaign was launched weeks before she posted about it. The official Tommy Hilfiger account doesn’t tag, attribute, or mention her account or Ice Studios (nor do they follow either) and any official press release on these images does not mention her or Ice Studios. On top of that, when I questioned Jess about her involvement in the production of these images she immediately blocked me. I mean within a minute or two. She’s also hidden likes on the posts which seem to have gotten little to no engagement anyway. You will find the same to be the case on a good majority of her posts with stolen magazine covers, or images stolen from more popular accounts like Lily-Rose Depp.

The IceStudios website is very confusing. If you go to IceStudios.co you get a static page and the only links are back to their IG account and a contact link, an email that goes directly to Jess. The only way to see other pages on this website is to manually enter the addresses for them. Why all of these pages are hidden unless you specifically try to find them, is anyone’s guess. One of the pages does attribute Jess Moloney to being the co-founder. All contact e-mails refer back to Jess herself and there doesn’t seem to be any contact that goes back to Renell.

The management company listed as managing IceStudios on official records is listed as Odis Management and not Jess Moloney Management. There is no public business registry that I can find anywhere that says Jess is involved with the company in any official or legal capacity other than clearly having access to the website and claiming she’s a co-founder.

Just as I started to question Jess’s legitimacy and involvement with this company she posted a job listing on her IG account (as a story) looking for a freelance graphic design artist for Ice Studios. Questions about this range from:

Why does she suddenly need a graphic artist?

Why wouldn’t she post this listing on a legitimate employment website?

What happened to the graphic design artist who is clearly already working for them?

How serious is this job listing if she only posted it as an IG story, no link to any legitimate website to apply, and provided just an email address?

One would think if this was a serious offer she’d have made a more serious and legitimate post. One would also think that with how small the business is and how little she seems to be truly involved in it they aren’t so inundated with sudden work that they need to hire someone else. As the job is listed as “freelance” and not full-time, it’s curious as to why she didn’t just Google literally any website that has freelance graphic design artists listed (of which there are many) or ask any of the various connections she allegedly has. Ironically, this website is supposed to be an artist collective, and yet she still needs to hire an artist? It seems to me that this post is not a legitimate position for her company but an attempt to make it look like she’s actually doing work when, in reality, she doesn’t.

This is all the current information on IceStudios as it is known publicly and should anything be found out in the future it will be added to this post.

[pomefioredove]

Hey follow-up,

Please disregard that last ask I forgot to put it under anonymous.

If it’s not too much trouble and if you feel alright answering would you mind answering it from here

Sincerely, the person who sent the ask like 1min ago.

Don’t worry this is in no way a request, I wanted to know your take on this thought I was rereading your good ending And I was wondering how do you think. The third, the first years, and the staff would react to finding out Yuu was planning to secretly leave before they were sold off, like during the announcement? I was thinking about it, like I would just bounce. Instead of being, essentially, someone’s property. Yk? Also I apologize i am aware that this is a heavy topic. If you don’t feel comfortable answering this pls let me know.

this got buried in my inbox sorry, but I can definitely talk about my thoughts on this, warning for bad english probably

the story I wrote is inherently kind of... dark, and that was intentional. I don't think I did a very good job at expressing that, which I why I haven't touched that storyline in a long time. but it was always meant to go hand-in-hand with what already happens in canon, that yuu just becomes crowley's pawn, and the boys are so egotistical and so competitive with each other that yuu's feelings and wellbeing are ignored as a result. we love these characters but, really, with the exception of very few, they couldn't care less about yuu as a person (perhaps this is a little nihilistic of me to say, but that's the impression I got).

I do really like reading concepts about yuu running away from nrc, multiple different authors I admire have written about it, simply because we all know that yuu is very unsafe and likely unhappy there, in canon. it's not an unlikely thought.

though, again, because most of these boys just... don't ask, or don't understand, or just don't even think about yuu's emotional state, I feel like yuu running away in ANY story would take them by complete surprise. again, I love these guys, but they're still... villains. they're all so wrapped up in their own lives, their own problems, their own egos, that they just... don't even think about others. or very few of them do, anyway.

I think characters like vil and rook would be able to catch the signs. vil, if anyone, would intervene somehow, but I don't think rook would. ace and deuce miiight be able to tell that something was off, depending on how yuu would go about it (i.e. looking for new places to live, planning a date to escape etc) but both of them could be easily convinced that they're fine.

again, this is the prefect we're talking about; yuu has been put in a position of responsibility against their will, and they're seen as capable and mature as a result. the idea that they could be suffering from a mental breakdown, or planning to run away, is laughable to those who know them.

in the story I wrote, the same logic applies. yuu's feelings are never taken into consideration, and the boys just assume yuu is fine with it because they seem so responsible. their autonomy is never questioned, just like in canon. a lot of other writers have done very similar stories because, well, the concept is already canonical. likewise I tried to express that the boys don't even realize how serious the situation is, again because they're oblivious to everyone but themselves, and in all endings it's just like yuu moves to a new dorm. there's also the good ending. and some more. though again I think I did a bad job at expressing that. I think my english skills had something to do with it, and maybe I shouldn't have written the happy endings that people requested, I feel I started losing the original point by then. (I've thought about this a lot already).

but yuu running away makes sense. it makes sense even in canon.

there are very few things that I think that are holding yuu back from running away

at the beginning of the series, yuu literally knows no one in this world, and no place to go. they don't even know what exists outside nrc

yuu has no money

again, crowley controls yuu (and frequently blackmails and guilt trips them about it???)

yuu and grim are bonded and yuu couldn't leave without him

but there are ways. I'm honestly surprised that yuu running away to nbc isn't more common in fics because it makes complete sense to me. like, if I was in that position, post-glomas, I wouldn't want to leave noble bell in the first place.

cause I know that rollo would help yuu, support them, kill crowley threaten crowley right back if he tried anything, and grim could continue studying to be a mage at noble bell.

this concept has been living in my brain since november but that's something for another day.

as for who would be affected?

in an alternate universe, yuu running away is what causes malleus' overblot. this... kind of goes hand-in-hand with my nbc au, but it works either way.

ace and deuce and epel would be heartbroken. I can see all three of them beating themselves up about not having seen the signs before. I imagine vil pulls them through the worst of it, even though he feels a similar sense of guilt for not having been able to help.

a lot of characters I feel would just... not care. or be mildly concerned and that's it. I'm talking about canon yuu here, and from what I could pick up... yeah. a lot of the boys would either say they saw it coming, express some disappointment, or just... couldn't be bothered.

RIDDLE. I think riddle would be really upset.

I think the staff, especially trein, would have seen it coming. they wouldn't be surprised, knowing how yuu is treated. their main concern would be yuu's safety.

then there's rook who like. okay. hear me out on this. so rook can find yuu with his unique magic. and I think he would track them down, out of curiosity. but he wouldn't interfere with their life unless they were in serious danger. like, in my nbc au, I don't think rook would even tell anyone that yuu is there. he can tell they're happier, and being taken care of, so... why bother?

there are a lot of other thoughts I have on this but that about sums it up for now.

[caffedrine]

This is just a very quick and dirty plot summary from chapters 21-23 of the romantic route. Lots of spoilers, I'm leaving out a lot of information, and there's no guarantee that it's accurate.

I made it so that I could follow along with the plot, keep track of the mysteries, and a few of the interesting scenes.

Spoilers for Gilbert's route

Spoilers, Spoilers, Spoilers

Emma realizes that Gilbert knew everything before they even met. He knew who she was, that she was selected as Belle, and that he only had one month to live. His reasons for doing everything he has done still a mystery to her.

Emma wakes up in Gilbert’s bed, with his arms around her. She remembers sitting by his bed while he recovered the previous night, and surmised that after he was stable, she must have fallen asleep. At some point, Gilbert must have pulled her into bed.

Emma has a choice, she can reveal that she knows Gilbert’s most deadly secret, or she can lie and pretend ignorance. Looking back over all their conversations, one thing that stands out is how much Gilbert hates lies. Whatever it is that’s going on between them won’t survive without absolute candor.

The emotion drains from Gilbert’s face, and he tells her that this was her choice. He straddles Emma, pinning her to the bed and begins strangling her. He tells her that this is a matter of national security, and Emma is no exception to his vow to kill anyone who knows he’s dying.

Emma claws at his hands and promises that she won’t tell anyone. Gilbert tells her that he long ago promised himself that he wouldn’t trust anyone, wouldn’t love anyone.

As he strangles Emma, she thinks that rather than cold and emotionless, he looks more and more in pain, as if he was the one being strangled. Emma was nominated as Belle, for her ability to read people. And despite the hands crushing her throat, she still doesn’t believe that Gilbert can kill her.

When Emma loses consciousness, Gilbert stops, burring his face against her shoulder. Everyone betrays him in the end, even Emma. Still, he can’t bring himself to kill her.

Emma has a strange dream that feels like a memory. The bookstore owner, Akatsuki, is telling her about a boy he knows. The boy is smart, sweet, and kind. He is the first one to help people and cheer them up without a thought of his own happiness. Little Emma thinks this boy sounds amazing and she wants to grow up to be just like him. After all, she also loves making people happy.

When Emma regains consciousness, Walter is shouting at Gilbert. He wants to know what the hell Gilbert was thinking, trying to kill the woman he’s in love with. Gilbert corrects him, this isn’t love, it’s hate. Walter wonders why he’s bothering to try to reason with a man as twisted as Gilbert.

Gilbert and Walter play the blame game with each other, with Walter asking why Gilbert even bothered to bring Emma to Obsidian if he intended to keep this secret from her. Gilbert just laughs.

They realize that Emma is conscious again, and she finds that she’s been moved to her room. Thankfully, there was no long-term damage, but her throat will be bruised. He has a topical ointment for it, but Gilbert decides he will apply it. He pushes Walter out of Emma’s room, promising that he’ll try not to kill her.

Gilbert begins to apply the ointment to Emma’s throat, pretending not to notice her flinch. Emma asks why he didn’t kill her back then.

Gilbert is going to give her a choice. She can spend the rest of her life trapped at his side, or he can finish the job. Which would she prefer?

If she stays with him, she will never be permitted to leave Obsidian, much less the castle. Gilbert has no intention of news of his illness spreading, much less people thinking it’s liked to his death. If the symbol of terror, the Obsidian Royal Family were to die too soon or too gently, then the corruption he has fought to eliminate will return and spread.

Emma asks if this means he’ll get the treatment Walter told her about - the one that will save his life.

Gilbert is upset that Emma knows about the treatment, and that he’s been refusing it. With a grimace, he tells her that he’ll go through with the treatment - if she agrees to kill him later.

Emma demands to know how that even makes sense. To Gilbert it makes perfect sense - he cannot be allowed to live in the new age where the weak have overthrown the nobility. 

Emma recalls Gilbert warning her that it is nearly impossible to change people’s values. She knows that, and she knows that she’s nothing special, she can’t convince Gilbert to give up his ideals. But still . . . 

Gilbert tells her that she has other things she should worry about instead of him. Now that she’s made her choice, she won’t be able to attend the signing ceremony.

Emma asks who the new proxy will be, but Gilbert shakes his head, it was her or no one. That road is now closed to them, and this will just be one more promise Obsidian has reneged on, proof that this country cannot be trusted.

Besides, her princes in Rhodolite will have their hands full soon enough with a civil war. Now that her role has ended, Gilbert has no reason to delay his plans anymore. 

A few nights ago, Gilbert gave Emma the prototype gun. But that wasn’t the only one he had made, and he has distributed the weapons to the rebel anti-Royal groups. The only thing he was holding back was the ammunition required to use them. 

The bullets are made and ready to be distributed among the groups, all waiting on Gilbert’s go ahead.

He was waiting to see if Emma could use her ideals to bridge the gap between the rebel factions and those in charge, but that chance died last night. 

Gilbert stands up to leave and put his plan into action, but Emma jumps on his back, restraining him.

She asks why he was waiting this long - from what he said he could have sent Rhodolite into a civil war at any moment. Why wait? He knows the longer he waits, the more time the princes have to thwart his plans.

Maybe Gilbert doesn’t want a bloody civil war. Even with his ideology of raising the weak and overthrowing the nobility, a lot of innocent people, men, women, and children will die. And what is even the point of doing this to Rhodolite?

Gilbert doesn’t want all those innocent people to die, but he sees no other way. Besides, at what point did he say that this civil war was only going to happen in Rhodolite?

Rhodolite is a relatively small, almost insignificant country. Gilbert’s plan encompasses the entire continent, including the five largest nations outside of Obsidian. Benitoite and Jade, but also Tanzanite, the Country of Divination and Illusions, Acroite, the Country of Snow and Law, and Ruby, the Country of Night Blossoms and Turbulent Times.

Gilbert turns around and very gently embraces Emma. She knows that he’s the Calamity that Will Destroy the World. And he will purify all the rot from the world.

Can Emma still look at him and want him to live?

Emma begs Gilbert to let her attend the signing ceremony - she still might be able to stop this without bloodshed. She’s his and now the world’s last hope. 

If he can’t trust her not to spill his secret, he can have her watched. If whoever is monitoring her thinks she’ll betray his secret, they can kill her. Gilbert tells her that’s not an option, she’s his prey and only he can kill her.

In that case, he can come instead and monitor her. Gilbert refuses this option as well, if he dies in a foreign country, it will be impossible to cover it up and have his plan continue. 

Of course, Emma has a third option. If she kills Gilbert, she will prevent the civil war and could go where she pleased without needing to be monitored.

Emma wonders what she can do, how she can make a world where everyone, including Gilbert, can smile.

Over the next few days, Emma continues to beg Gilbert to let her go to the signing ceremony. When he refuses, she asks to go to the city. If she can at least get word to Lucien, he could inform Chevalier. But Gilbert refuses that as well.

Gilbert coughs, something she never heard him do in Rhodolite and panics. Gilbert teases her about crying every time he coughs these days. 

Emma asks him to go back to his room, but Gilbert refuses. He spent most of his childhood being so sick he was bedridden; he doesn’t intend to die that way either. Besides, he gets way warmer by cuddling with Emma than he does sitting in bed under blankets.

The scent of medicine lingers around Gilbert, the same scent from the infirmary in both the Castle of Rhodolite and the Castle of Obsidian. It’s also the smell that lingered in that secret Rhodolite flat Gilbert had used as a child. 

Gilbert warns Emma not to grow attached to him, all he’ll do is hurt her in one way or another. Emma asks if he’s reconsidered Walter’s treatment, and Gilbert reminds her of their deal. If she promises to kill him, he’ll accept the treatment. Rather than cry, Emma buries her face against Gilbert’s shoulder and feels him gently stroke her hair.

Roderich interrupts them; a group of three foreigners are waiting in the receiving room. Miraculously they passed the stringent border inspections, miraculously they were not accosted during their journey to the capital, and miraculously they are now in the middle of the castle. Roderich looks pointedly at Emma, as if he’s trying to tell her something.

Well, Gilbert is in a good mood right now, so he’ll meet with them. He tells Emma to come with him, after all, they’re her guests.

When she enters the room, the three visitors rush towards her but are pushed back by Gilbert who holds Emma close to him. He reminds them that Emma is his hostage, and if they have anything to say, it will go through him.

Rio and Akatsuki are not amused and nearly lunge at Gilbert. It’s Yves who has to play the voice of reason, reminding them that they’re not here to pick a fight with Gilbert in the middle of his own Castle.

Emma should be happy that they came here for her, but with everything that has happened, she cannot bring herself to smile. Thankfully, with Gilbert commanding their attention, they didn’t notice. 

Gilbert laughs, it appears all three of them want him dead. How about Emma, shall he go ahead and die? Emma snaps at him to stop joking about it.

She immediately regrets it, Gilbert is still smiling, but Rio, Akatsuki, and Yves look confused. She cannot drop even unintentional hints about Gilbert’s illness lest everything she’s trying fall apart. Emma diverts attention by asking how they came here.

Akatsuki still has his border crossing permit.  Yves and Rio hid in his cart of goods during the passing and inspections. 

Akatsuki did notice that the border patrol was unusually lax during their inspection. He asks if Gilbert arranged it that way.

Gilbert denies this, what reason would he have to welcome outsiders into his country. On that note, he knows only Akatsuki has the permit to cross the border, with the addition of the other two ‘guests’ there are now three illegal immigrants in his city.

He asks why they have risked so much to come.

Akatsuki tells Gilbert to return Emma to them. Gilbert refuses, she’s still his goodwill hostage. Rio complains that Gilbert is obviously not treating her well, just look how pale she has gotten. Emma denies this, but Yves points out that she has obviously been crying recently. Has she been crying ever since she was handed over?

Emma can feel Gilbert’s gaze bore into her, waiting for her to break.

Emma tells them that they’re mistaken, she has just been reading a really moving book. It was really, really sad.

Akatsuki points out the lie, Obsidian is famous for having terrible taste in literature, there would be nothing here up to her standards, much less worth crying about. 

Gilbert cuts in, Emma is obviously lying, but shouldn’t they respect her reasons? With his arms still wrapped around her, he very deliberately leans forward and kisses the corner of her lips. He reminds them that she’s a hostage, she has plenty of reasons to cry. And he might have given her a few more.

This time, Gilbert sweetly kisses the side of her eye.

Rio and Akatsuki agree that Gilbert needs to die right now. Yves yells at them to stop or it will just be worse. Emma insists that Gilbert is lying, he has been treating her like an honored guest. Gilbert tells her that he wouldn’t spend every night together with her if she was just his honored guest. Yves, Rio and Akatsuki look at her in horror.

They continue the meeting, with Yves bringing up the reason they’re here. They have received no communication about the Emperor of Obsidian’s intentions to come to Rhodolite and attend the signing ceremony, so they assume Obsidian is backing out. In that case, they would like Gilbert to return his hostage.

Gilbert insists that the emperor has already sent a letter to Rhodolite with the arrangements and declaration of intentions. After all, he brought Emma here as his hostage in exchange for the non-aggression treaty. Apparently the three of them just missed the letter, he apologizes for them wasting their time - they’re not going to be able to take Emma away with them.

Gilbert decides the meeting is ended, and he stands up, grabbing Emma’s hand and pulling her out with him. He gives Roderich orders to remove their guests from the castle, and to put them up in the nicest lodging available- in the city. 

He brings Emma to his room, and she asks why he lied during the meeting. He doesn’t intend to have anyone attend the signing ceremony. 

Gilbert’s logic is that it’s not a lie until he actually misses the signing ceremony. But he has something else to talk about, a new gift to give her. He pulls out a bundle of black cloth and gives it to Emma.

It’s a completely black dress, with the lace at the throat to the chest done out in a rose pattern. It started for Emma back when Gilbert was planning on having her sign as proxy, though now it is useless to him. Still, rather than waste it, he thought she should have it. He urges her to try it on. 

Emma heads to the restroom attached to Gilbert’s room but stops when she realizes that he’s following her. He insists that he wants to help her put it on, but Emma refuses. She has gone most of her life perfectly capable of putting on her own clothes, and she’s not planning on changing that today. 

After some time in the restroom alone, Emma finally pokes her head out to find Gilbert casually leaning against the wall next to her. She needs help, the dress was made with buttons on the back she can’t reach. Laughing, Gilbert helps, noting that black really doesn’t suit her.

Emma asks why this dress fits so well, and Gilbert tells her it’s his secret. Emma decides there are some secrets she’ll just be happier if she doesn’t know.

Gilbert decides that Emma looks far too lovely to be kept alone in his stuffy room. Emma asks if he wants to go for a walk together, but Gilbert doesn’t like the idea that a castle full of people, some of which are even men, could see her like this. 

But there is a secret passage they could take, that only Gilbert as the last member of Obsidian’s Royal Family knows about.

He takes Emma through a maze of passages and secret doors before they arrive at the main ballroom of the Castle of Obsidian. The floor is carved with the emblem for the Country of Obsidian, and for a moment it overlaps in Emma’s mind with the Rhodolite ballroom. It has floor to ceiling windows, depicting a beautiful view of steep mountains and is illuminated by the setting sun.

Emma is impressed by how beautiful it is - this is the first place in the Castle of Obsidian that doesn’t look like a modified military fortress. She can imagine noble parties being held here.

Emma isn’t wrong. Gilbert tells her that back when the Mad Emperor reigned, there were endless lavish gatherings For aristocrats held here. Even now, Gilbert still likes the view.

The sound of Gilbert’s cane tapping against the floor reminds Emma of the welcome gala where she and Gilbert danced together for the first time. She asks if he hasn’t had many opportunities to dance, even though she thought he was quite skilled.

Gilbert explains that his illness makes physical exertion, dancing included, shortens his remaining time. He used to only dance under very special circumstances. Of course, dancing is now impossible.

Emma promises to practice dancing and improve and asks Gilbert to dance with her in the future. 

Gilbert laughs, she is the only person whom, after everything he has done to her, would want to dance with him. He agrees to consider it, but Emma understands that he’s at the point where he is not making any promises.

Gilbert reminisces about the ballroom; it was very lively back when the Mad Emperor was still alive. He asks if Emma noticed how close the ballroom is to the city below, sometimes people would sneak out the secret passage that led directly from the ballroom to the town for an illicit outing. Of course, these days the secret passage is a weak security checkpoint that could let criminals come and go as they please, but Gilbert could never bring himself to destroy it out if sheer nostalgia.

A miraculous visit, a beautiful dress, a whimsical walk, and the trip down Gilbert’s memory lane all snap into place for Emma, but she still doesn’t understand what Gilbert’s intentions are. 

Perhaps this is what it means to be the Trampling Beast. Emma has no doubt that Gilbert was serious when he wanted to imprison her in his castle and keep her chained to his side. But even then, he’s also giving her this final chance. Maybe this is the only way he can bring himself to let her go.

Gilbert never took back the documents naming her as the Emperor of Obsidian’s proxy. This is her final chance to attend the signing ceremony and bridge the gap between the anti-Royal faction and the princes of Rhodolite.

Emma asks if Gilbert believes in her. Gilbert plays dumb, and Emma decides not to push it. This might be, for Gilbert, as far as he can go. 

If Emma were to take this opportunity and leave, will Gilbert be here when she returns? Will he live long enough to hear whether she succeeds or fails?

Gilbert asks why Emma is crying. Emma tells him that it’s his fault. She remembers Gilbert, long ago, warning her to stop killing her heart before becoming a fallen beast like him.

Emma deliberately looks at Gilbert and tells him that she is not alright. She asks if she promises to kill Gilbert, would he accept the treatment. Gilbert tells her not to lie, she hasn’t gotten to the point she can hold up her end and kill him. 

Emma assures him that she absolutely can and will kill him, but Gilbert laughs and tells her to listen to herself. Didn’t anyone warn her to not get close to villains?

Emma is conflicted, should she listen to Gilbert and respect his will? Or should she trample over him and force her will on him?

Emma bites her lip hard enough to break through the skin. Gilbert’s cold hands cradle her face as he asks if she really loves him that much. His grip on her is hard enough that she cannot do anything other than look into his eye.

Emma thinks back to everything she has experienced since meeting Gilbert. So many bad things had happened to her afterward, she was harassed and had to deal with the heartbreak of ostracization. She had even been nearly exiled by her own country, just because Gilbert called her a friend.

Once Gilbert had warned her that everything he loved betrayed him, so instead he controlled it and trampled it so that nothing he loved could hurt him. And here she was, quite literally in the palm of his hand. Admitting love to Gilbert was the same as drinking poison.

But it wasn’t all bad. There were nice memories, and Gilbert hadn’t really done anything bad to her (except for attempted murder). His kindness had been malicious, but it had been kind. She couldn’t help but respond to that kindness, that part of him that held her as special. As Gilbert’s finger traces her lips, Emma feels emotions pouring into her heart like ink, dying it black.

Emma wishes that they could go back to the way they were, and Gilbert tells her that it’s already too late. It’s written on her face and is impossible for her to hide. She loves him and wants him to live.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Gilbert nods, Emma has made a very terrible decision, really. Falling in love with anyone, villain status aside, is the worst someone could do, akin to self-harm. That’s why he decided not to fall in love with anyone, no one can betray that love and it doesn’t even hurt when you kill them. After he made that decision, his painful life became so much easier. Emma should give it a try too.

Because of his hold on her face, Emma can’t look away from Gilbert’s eye. She has no choice but to see it waver with sorrow.

Emma tells Gilbert that it’s a pointless struggle, and Gilbert is proof of that. Why is she alive if not because Gilbert loves her too much to kill her? As much as she wants Gilbert to live, he wants her to live too, even though she is now a threat to his nation.

Emma realizes that she can see Gilbert’s heart, and he must be able to see hers as well. They have opposite ideologies, with a fathomless chasm between them. This should be impossible for both of them.

Emma tells Gilbert that she does love him, and that means she can kill him. After all, this is the only way that can guarantee that he will stay alive. She’s accepted that she must be able to kill him in order to save him, so she will.

Even if he doesn’t believe her, Emma asks if Gilbert is okay with dying now? She intends to stop his plan; no matter how many bullets and weapons he sends out, they will be worthless if no one picks them up. She warns him not to discount her because he thinks of her as a baby bunny, she will stop his plan and triumph over him.

A part of Emma wonders how she can even register as a threat to the Marshal of Eternal Victory, and it’s right, as she is right now she is not. She needs to get back to Rhodolite and make a real difference. Even if this choice means that she will never see Gilbert again.

Gilbert is standing as close to her right now as when they first met, but unlike then his red eye is wavering. Emma kisses him, at first lightly, but then Gilbert’s hand is against the back of her head, as if blocking her escape route. They kiss again and again, and Emma thinks that for the first time, she can feel a humanlike warmth from Gilbert.

Suddenly, Gilbert’s teeth sink into her lip. Emma jerks back, though she doesn’t think he broke her skin. She demands to know why he just bit her, but Gilbert reminds her, he wants to leave a mark on those that he likes.  Emma grumbles that most lovers cherish those they love, and Gilbert agrees. And there are dozens of men who will treat Emma softly and gently. But she won’t be able to forget him, and the pain he brings. Emma complains that he has a cowardly way of reasoning, but Gilbert just reminds her that he’s the Arch-Villain.

Gilbert’s hand slides down Emma’s thigh, checking for the gun. He complains about her promise to kill him when she doesn’t even wear the gun. He urges Emma to answer him, and she asks if she wears the gun on her, would he consider living. There’s a long silence between them, and Gilbert reminds her that he doesn’t lie.

Even now, Gilbert doesn’t make any promises about surviving. Emma knows that this is a good thing for Rhodolite and the other countries, but she can’t hold back her sobs.

Gilbert wishes her luck.

~~~

In Rhodolite, Luke enters the chapel deep in the forest near the royal castle. He asks why Chevalier summoned him here, when the office was so much closer and nicer. Chevalier responds that he didn’t want to get blood on the documents. Without changing his expression, Chevalier unsheathes his sword and points it at Luke.

Luke notes that it felt like someone was sniffing around him and asks when Chevalier realized he was connected to Gilbert. Chevalier praises Luke for his ability to deceive everyone at court, it really was a masterful disguise.

When Chevalier looked into Luke’s background (a second time) he found a few suspicious points. First of all, Luke was issued a death certificate 10 years ago during the Day of the Blood-Stained Roses. That meant that it was impossible for their side to confirm that Luke was alive. Then he reappeared about a year later and got a job with the guard.

Luke had been a child during the year he was missing, he would have been unable to fend for himself in the wild, nor would he have been undiscovered by Rhodolite forces.

But it wasn’t only Rhodolite who was there that day. Obsidian forces could have taken Luke in, protected him for a year before he returned to Rhodolite.

Luke asks how that would connect him to Gilbert, who hadn’t been part of the military invasion.

During the Day of the Blood-Stained Roses, Obsidian had a policy to kill non-combatants, including women and children. The Obsidian soldiers should have killed him, under orders of the Emperor. There would have been only one person in Obsidian who could order the soldiers to keep him alive instead.

Well, Chevalier got him. It’s all correct, when Luke had lost his home, his family, and nearly his life, Gilbert had stepped in and saved him.

Normally, Chevalier wouldn’t care if Luke was or wasn’t connected to Gilbert. The problem is what Luke has been up to since returning from Obsidian.

Ever since the tragedy ten years ago, people have been vocal in their distrust of the royal family. At first they were disjointed groups, no one could truly agree on an issue. But, starting a few years ago, someone began organizing them. What had been a few small groups scattered across the nation were now bundled into a pillar that could burn Rhodolite down to the ground.

This is how Gilbert destroys nations, he unites people and controls them with hatred by dying their hearts black, and giving them the means to destroy their country. And, knowing that, Chevalier was able to look into Luke even further, and realize that he was the leader of the anti-Royal faction.

There is a long silence between the two of them. Luke asks if Chevalier thinks that by killing him, he will solve the current crisis. Chevalier doesn’t, though it would be so much easier if it was true. Besides, it’s too late to stop the events Gilbert has put into motion.

Luke asks why Chevalier still has his sword pointed at him. Chevalier replies that he will kill anyone who harms the nation, and from his estimation, if Luke continues to lead the anti-Royal faction there will be greater destruction.

However, if they were to formally convene a court to put Luke on trial, it would be a scandal that would hurt the Royal Family of Rhodolite. Instead, Chevalier has decided to dispose of Luke secretly.

Luke unsheathes his own sword, holding it between him and Chevalier. It seems no matter who it is, anyone who has status has decided that they have the right to do anything they please to those below them. This is the exact sort of thing Gilbert would say, and Luke wonders if Chevalier is the perfect symbol of authoritarianism in this world.

Well, unfortunately for Chevalier, Luke has no intention of dying before he has achieved his vengeance. Chevalier asks how long Luke can last in a fight against him. They point their swords at one another, the chapel become a battleground full of bloodlust and murderous intent.

Clavis enters the chapel, complaining loudly that Chevalier keeps on dragging him to weird places.

Clavis asks what the hell is going on. He rushes between Chevalier and Luke, reminding them that sibling fights are done with fists, not swords. Both Chevalier and Luke snap at him to get out of the way.

Clavis tells them both to calm down. He assures Luke that he knows Chevalier well, so Luke doesn’t need to say anything for him to know that this is all Chevalier’s fault. Clavis looks at Chevalier, into his eyes and tells Luke to run away, Chevalier is seriously planning on killing him. When Luke hesitates, Clavis reassures him that everyone will blame Chevalier for this.

After Luke leaves, Chevalier sheathes his sword, and the murderous aura fades. Clavis asks if he was really going to do it, but Chevalier says that this demonstration served its purpose. He sits on a pew listlessly, seeming carefree except for a bitter smile. Clavis tells him that if he wanted to kick Luke of out the court to prevent information leaks, there were other, and better ways.

Chevalier asks if Clavis is ready with his part, and Clavis complains about being ignored.

There is a unit prepared to participate in the operation, led by Cyran. Their preliminary reconnaissance reports line up with Chevalier’s predictions, they should be able to suppress the attack at the signing ceremony. The problem is that the group has been supplied with Obsidian weapons, even if Chevalier’s operation succeeds, there will be lots of casualties.

Chevalier has accepted the loss, dialogue is no longer an option, leading violence as the last resort. Clavis complains that Chevalier really is a beast who has abandoned his own heart.

Chevalier cuts in, asking for a report.

A guard with long hair and a uniform designating him as one of the elites approaches them. Clavis recognizes Lucien, and recalls that he was sent to Obsidian after Emma. Lucien reports that he just arrived.

Chevalier surmises that if Lucien is here, then Emma is returning from Obsidian far earlier than they expected. Lucien tells him that he’s right, she’s returning with the other three.

Claivs is impressed, he didn’t think that they would really be able to bring Emma back with them. Lucien hesitates, and Chevalier has to prompt him to continue. Lucien admits that a very unexpected situation has occurred.

Clavis tells him that nothing can surprise him more than them shipping Emma off to Obsidian in the first place.

Oh, this might.  

Lucien explains that Emma is returning as the Empress of Obsidian.

Clavis and Chevalier stare at Lucien in shock. After a long, long time, they demand Lucien repeat himself.

~~

Back in Obsidian, Gilbert has finished giving Roderich his orders. Roderich protests, but Gilbert silences him. He tells Roderich that his body is at it’s limit, so now it’s Roderich’s turn. He assures Roderich that he will be fine, he believes in him. Besides, he promised Emma that he would see her after the signing ceremony, and he doesn’t want to break his promise with her.

Roderich is pretty sure this would count as breaking the promise, but Gilbert tells him that he’s not interested in repeating himself.

Smiling, Gilbert pushes back Roderich’s hood, revealing glossy black hair and red eyes.

Gilbert wishes him luck.

[jessepinwheel]

not to be the guy whose writing advice always boils down to "pay attention to character motivations" but something I feel is frequently overlooked is immediate intent

every so often I read a book where Protagonist Man goes into a situation that immediately goes to shit and I have to put the book down and ask what the hell was the plan?

I don't think there's anything wrong with everything going to shit immediately, but when a character who I've been told is competent at their job goes into a situation they have a reasonably good grasp on and does something that makes absolutely no sense so that Things Can Happen, I have a hard time taking the story seriously.

which is to say: if your character is going into a situation, you should probably have a sense of what they're trying to accomplish and how they expect things to go should everything go according to their expectations. sometimes characters don't have a plan at all (they're dumb, or didn't have time to come up with one, or any other reason) but if they do have a plan it should look like it

immediate intent doesn't always have to be a big thing, and it often isn't. sometimes it's something as simple as "trying to annoy someone" or "trying to get someone out of the room" or "trying to make things less boring". but pretty much anything a character does should have some amount of intent behind it

also important to note, this doesn't just apply to actions, it also heavily applies to dialogue. it's really helpful to keep in mind not just what characters are saying, but what they're trying to find out from the other characters, and what they mean that they might not be saying.

I know this is basically the same writing advice I always give, but having a good understanding of what characters are trying to do at any given moment (even if they're not succeeding) really does go a long way to making characters seem more like people and not just dolls being moved around by the author

[nahalism]

for the past two days now, i have been feeling slightly off my normal frequency which manifested physically. i put a lot of pressure on myself to do better and get things right. just because i feel things are moving slow for me. i see people my age owning a car, being married, having children or in a relationship and i’m none of that yet. my career isn’t stable and i look after myself (all bills on me). it’s exhausting and almost embarrassing that i can’t save enough to cater for some of my needs. i have a degree and i’ve been applying for the right jobs, yet, nothing. i have a job. thankfully but the pay is just not enough.

how do you get out of a funk like this? how do you find peace with self when your life feels stagnant?

hey <3 something i read on here once that saved me was, 'your effort will not betray you'. it meant two things to me at the time. 1) if i stay true to my path & keep up the hard work, i will inevitably reap what i have sowed, (a comfort) 2) that what i reap is in direct relation to what i have worked toward (room for correction). it was a correction because i realised i needed to do more of what i wanted to see in my life, not more of what i thought it took to be the the kind of person who i imagined would have those things. (example) sometimes, we want to be in a relationship, so we work harder at work. the two dont tally, but we assume someone financially stable makes a good partner, so blindly double down on the wrong course of action. the reality is, someone financially stable, is someone financially stable. being a good partner is a different skillset with its own and separate requirements. as such, the best way to prepare for having a thing, is to do that thing. — peace comes from clarity. so your first step is to be clear on what is it YOU want (not where it is you think you should be). if your comparing, you're looking toward other people to gauge where you at, with no real conception of what the reality they face entails, which is dangerous, shortsighted and misleading. each of us has different start and finish points. the individual nature of the journeys were on also means we have different crosses to bare. if your going to compare another persons good, to your fully fleshed reality, you will always come up short. so, its best not to compare— but if you are going to do it, be sure to compare both the good and the bad. and(!!) be sure to remember that the same way the grass is greener for you elsewhere, is the same way your grass looks greener to someone else. if your now is not enough for you, more will only ever be more, not better. appreciate what you have today. make it part of your new beginning. (what you dont use, you lose). second, prioritise the things you want in order of priority, not preference. having one goal at a time helps reduce burn out and increases focus, which reduces the time span spent working on the goal. if you want to work on your finances and your career security, make it your sole focus for the next year. that means forget about cars, kids, marriage, and anything outside of your prioritised goal, for now. those other things will find you, but they need to take their proper order of priority, which means unless they seek you out and add to your outlined goal, your in no position to acquire them right now. — side note* realise, that your current independence is a freedom, not a burden. the same you that exists today, with kids and a car and a marriage, would have way more responsibility (so x10 the pressure to make things work with about 90% less of the time & flexibility to do so). use that current freedom to your advantage. an informed and intentional purchase, or marriage, or family, is so much better than one acquired as a goal post. don't be the person who wants something just to have it, be the kind of person who goes after things they can maintain. it will make the switch from independence to interdependence less prone to codependence <3

(now.. lol, for the question you actually asked), my first steps to get out of a funk are to clean the house top down, wash bedsheets, clothes & remake the bed. i order or reorder my space to order my mind. then i light candles or incense to set ambiance and to set intention. i shower. make tea and eat (also intentionally). maybe do my hair or something to my appearance that makes me feel more polished since i usually work in a bonnet and house clothes. then i journal or write, and let how im feeling out till i get to the root of why im feeling it (the outlet may be different for you, but whatever it is, the outlet should allow for you to be present with your thoughts and emotions, reflect on them, and process them). usually, doing house work clears some of the mental chatter so im ready to write/purge it out once im done. if i need more, or am just not ready to go back to work, i work out (skip/yoga, something to root me in my body), or i take a walk in nature. if i need something more cerebral than active, i look over my past work to get perspective. (usually our hard work is paying off, but as our skill level increases so do our expectations for what we should be producing. sometimes you just need a reminder of how far you've come in order to see the value of continuing forward). * also dont forget to put away the washing once it dries to get the full *house is clean* effect.

reading this back, i forgot to tell you — you have not been left behind by life. its not too late to share in all the things you might feel are rushing by you. open your heart to what your journey looks like, and not societies clock. you don't need me or my advice. you have all the answers within you, (and the capability to bring them to fruition!) focus on what will make you truly satisfied in this moment. perhaps you already have it. but regardless of if you do or don't, you should be proud of having brought yourself this far!! keep working hard, keep pushing yourself, but push with love & the knowledge that your capable and want to see your capabilities, not as your own bully, or a critic who thinks more is never enough. trust that your effort will not betray you, and that it will lead you to life experiences that make great stories. hindsight is for laughter, not regret. *big hug*