#job 2 is my first choice anyway but they closed all hiring for my experience level when I was looking for a position

[candypop-snowdrop]

Oh boy, paralyzed with fear rn bc job stuff

[gemsofgreece]

Hi:) I'd have a pretty random question, I hope it's not a bother for you! My bf and I are thinking about doing a seasonal/summer job in Greece this summer, but for me it's a little difficult bc of family stuff I'd prefer to go for 1-2 months at most... Do you think it's possible in Greece, or do they usually stick to one person working through a whole season? Also, any tips or things we should look out for would be of great help, if you have some 😊 if not, that's fine though, have a great day anyway & p.s. I love your blog!!

I hate to do this but I am afraid I will have to discourage you from this. First of all, the high season is getting elongated year after year; I doubt the average Greek employer will have the patience to hire one employee for a little time and then find another. Then, a summer job in Greece means either of these 99% of the time: restaurant / tavern, cafe, hotel or beach bar. You know, that’s tough work. As in, bad tough, not good tough. You will probably work all day and night, leaving very late, only for sleep. You won’t have time to walk around and explore. If you find a beach bar, your best chance is stealing some time to take a swim at the beach daily. But you’re only gonna be in that one beach. I also don’t know where you are from. If you are from a northern country, please consider that roaming daily a Greek beach in the summer for work or making it through all the noisy tables next to the grills day come day go might be a condition your body isn’t adjusted for, quite honestly. Then it’s the payments; they notoriously do not pay well and offer hectic work conditions, if you come from a well paying country, you are going to be disappointed in this department. In fact, more and more young Greeks decide against summer jobs exactly because it’s more exploitation than work.

The best summer job I have seen in Greece is taking care of the Skyrian horses shelter in Skyros island. There were some French people there but I can’t even recall whether they were paid or they were volunteers! But if they get paid, don’t expect a good pay. However, if you are skilled with horses, this would be a pleasant job that could make you overlook the salary. Something environmental / ecotouristic might be a decent choice, if it’s close to your field of studies / expertise.

Still, in all honesty, I suggest you guys gather some money this year and come the next year for proper vacation, to chill or explore and enjoy some quality time.

* if any Greek has good experience with summer jobs 👀 please comment

[notaninterest]

Carnal *2* (Hisoka x Reader)

[A/N]: sorry for not updating on this passing Thursday! I had a major life event occur so i had to break away for a week. here's chapter 2!

also i know it says [Y/N]'s POV, but it doesn't tread all the way back to the first few scenes. It's a continuation from where you left back last time :)

enjoy!

Warnings: graphic smut, heavy sexual themes, Hisoka becoming tired.

‘Well at least he’s handsome.’ You had thought to yourself when you first spotted him in the corner of the bar, almost completely hidden by the shadows. You had to avert your eyes quickly so he didn’t notice that you noticed him, focusing back on your pole work. You have to attract him to you somehow. But how?

You can feel his gaze on you and you swallow, deciding to switch up your routine. You clench both hands on the pole, keeping your arms straight. You make sure your ass is in full view before you start gyrating your hips to imitate the act of doggy style. You could feel your nervousness bringing your nen out so you quickly use Zetsu and switch to In to keep any traces of aura away. It was only for a split second. No one could’ve noticed it. You stand back up, hands still on the pole as you walk up to it, beginning to try to climb up it. The atmosphere was the same, rambunctious one it’s always been, but a clean sense of tension easily struck your body. You stumble a bit as you attempt to further climb up the pole. Damn! He noticed. You stuck out like a sore thumb to him. You could tell by the way his gaze bore into your face rather than your body. He wasn’t interested in what you had to offer, like the rest of the people here. He was instead interested in figuring you out. Fuck. You desperately try to focus on your dance, but as you’re sliding down the pole, your crotch rubs against it and you gasp. Touches like these were a stranger to you. You never had the time to form any sexual relationships, so you never experienced something like this before. You let up, feeling embarrassed but quickly continuing on with your dance. The music ends soon and you walk as calmly as possible back into the dressing room before beginning to panic. Your cover was blown and there was a limited amount of time you had before Hisoka approached you. You decided you were done with dances for the night and you would refuse any lap dance requests. Sex was a service you didn’t provide so you didn’t have to worry about that.

Until the boss that had hired you waltzed into the dressing room a few minutes later, connecting his slimy eyes with your clearly panicked ones. You came to him four months ago asking for a job after you had set your sights on hunting the magician after passing the Hunter exam. You had found out he frequents this specific joint once a year to “blow off some steam” according to your informant. You planned to catch him off guard while he went to the back rooms with one of the dancers and, hopefully, end his reign of fear amongst the people. The owner of the strip club allowed you in and you worked your way up to becoming one of the better dancers there, despite not having any previous dancing or sexual experience. You were impressed with yourself. Plus you made bank, so it wasn’t a bad profession.

Your boss walks up to you, pulling you aside. “The man you’re looking for has requested a room with you.” You flinch. “What? I thought I told you--” “Cut the shit. I already tried to explain to him that it’s a service you don’t provide, but he was rather...persuasive.” You could immediately tell by the way the man’s eyes shined that there was money involved. Must be a hefty amount too judging by the way he was talking to you. “Anyway, go please him. I’m not giving you a choice. It’s either that or you lose your job.” The boss says before turning around. You swallow your pride. You couldn’t afford to lose this job. You kind of enjoyed it. “For how long?” You ask. “The rest of the night.” The man replies before slinking off into his office. “What?! You expect me to stay holed up in this room for twelve hours?!” You angrily spit, but the boss was already long gone. Your hands clenched into fists. This bastard! He requested you for twelve hours?! You were going to give this asshole a piece of your mind.

_______

You squeak as your weak body is flipped onto your stomach. He intended to use the rest of the time on you?! You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Wait just a damn minute! You’re crazy if you think for another second that I’ll- ah!” You expel a noise of surprise as Hisoka bites your left asscheek, a sultry look settling in those damned yellow eyes of his. He licks over the area to soothe it and you grit your teeth, looking at him with eyes full of anger. You flip back over to face him in all of his...naked glory. You blush at the sight before you. He’s certainly what those others call well-built. He’s bulky, but the perfect amount for his frame. The magician sits up on his knees, watching your dilemma. Your eyes trail down his body, following his ripped chest, the eight-pack that lays on his abdomen and then to his still hard cock, which makes your eyes bug out of your head. How did that thing fit inside of you?! Your face is a scarlet red as you stare at it, seeing it covered in your juices. “Do you like what you see, [Y/N]?~” Hisoka husks, smirking at your reaction. He knows he’s well-endowed, the cocky bastard. You clench your teeth, shooting a glare his way. “Listen here you son of a-” “Ah ah.” He silences you quickly, flipping you back onto your stomach. “While that little exchange was certainly entertaining, I’m not finished with you yet.” His voice grows more serious and you find yourself swallowing in nervousness. “Now, how long have you been here, scouting me out?” He asks, a claw trailing up your sensitive back. You can’t help but react, arching your back as the sharp finger rolls up your spine. “L-Like I’ll tell you anything more.” You huff, glaring at him over your shoulder. Hisoka stares back at you before smirking that trademark smug smirk, returning his hand back to his side. “Very well…” He seductively drawls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you towards him. You squeak at the sudden movement, feeling his heat behind you instantly. You let out yet another noise of surprise as your lower half is lifted into the air, stopping at a certain height. You look over your shoulder to see that your pussy is once again level with his mouth. You blush even more. “N-No. Not again.” You whimper, looking helplessly into his dominant yellow gaze. Hisoka chuckles. “Then tell me what I want to hear.” He deadpans, an unamused look on his face. You can’t reveal the statistics of your mission, so you lower your head in defeat. “I cannot tell you…” You whisper. “Then I will continue until you do.” He remarks lowly. You feel his talented tongue descend on your lower lips once again, and you can’t help the moan that spills from your mouth.

Damn. He’s really got the upper hand on you. There’s no escaping him as he has an iron grip on your hips. You cry out when he sucks on your sensitive clit, wiggling a little in his grasp. He chuckles, simply tightening his grip. You squirm fruitlessly, letting out obscene noises as he relentlessly snacks on your leaking pussy, leaving you no room to escape. You eventually hit your peak again and spill all over Hisoka’s mouth. He greedily laps up all you have to offer, moan slightly while doing so. After he’s finished, he drops you on your stomach, allowing you to recover from your orgasm. You flip into a sitting position, sighing and angling your head downwards a little. Hisoka suddenly shifts behind you, whispering, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Your expression hardens into one of anger. “You...You asshole!” You snap, swinging your fist into his smug face, which materializes into a cloud of dust that dissipates as soon as your punch is thrown. “Oh [Y/N].~ Your continued attempts to hurt me only serve to turn me on further.” He purrs into your left ear. In your anger, you’ve failed to notice that he’s broken a sweat. You sneer, throwing back your left elbow in another attempt to hit him. You’re met again with thin air. All of a sudden, you’re picked up by your shoulders and thrown face first into the bed. Before you can even lift yourself back up, a powerful hand pushes you down by the shoulder blades, pushing your front down and leaving your backside up. One of your flushed cheeks presses into the mattress and you get a peripheral view of Hisoka admiring the position he’s put you in, his yellow eyes dark with desire. “This one is my favorite.~” He rasps, placing his cock at your entrance. Your eyes widen. You squirm a bit, trying to maneuver away from him but he holds you there by your scratched up hips, not letting you escape. “Anything you have to tell me before I start again, [Y/N]?~” He murmurs. He runs his dick up your wet slit. You mull over your options, finding that there’s only one you can make. With your silence as his answer, he slowly enters you again with a shaky breath. You open your mouth in a silent scream as he splits you open yet again. “O-Oh fuuuck.” You wail into the bed sheets as he fully seats himself in, clenching within your fists tightly. Hisoka chuckles and begins thrusting, the pace hard and punishing. His hips smack against your ass, the sound of skin smacking into skin filling up the gaps between your moans and his. He digs his claws into your hips, cutting deeply into them. You yelp in pain, but it’s soon overshadowed by the pleasure of him thrusting into you. You faintly notice the blood running down your legs, but you pay no mind to it. “Ah!” You scream in a higher octave as he hits into you rather harshly, brushing a rather sensitive spot within your pussy. Hisoka pauses, stopping all motion. “Oh?” He murmurs to himself. You can feel the devilish smile radiating off of him. Your eyes are closed so you don’t start crying from how unbelievably good it feels. Your body is shaking from the immense pleasure and you can’t stop the desperate whimper that leaves your throat from the lack of friction. “Hmm…” Hisoka hums, a delighted chuckle leaving his mouth at an apparent discovery he’s made. Just what was this clown up to?

You let out an obscene cry as he resumes his thrusting, aiming for that sensitive spot deep within you...and he hits it every single time. “H-Holy- AAAA- !!!” You scream as loud as you possibly can as this man hits this point every single time with each well-timed stroke. Tears prick your eyes as the pleasure is immense. You can feel your orgasm coming, but it feels different from the others. “Wai- S-Stop! I don’t-” Your cries fall on deaf ears as he lifts you up by the hair, pressing your back against his chiseled chest as he fucks you upright against him. You can hear him panting heavily in your ear, an occasional sound coming up. He wraps his pale, brawny arms tightly around your midsection, fucking you as hard as he can. He continuously hits that point deep with you, making you scream an ungodly amount. “His-Hisoka! S-Stop! I won’t-” You shake your head from left to right, reduced to an incoherent, blubbering mess. Hisoka, however, seems to be riled up by the fact that you said his name, thrusting into you with more fervor. With one last thrust up into that sensitive spot, you cum. But as you cum this time, you squirt. Hisoka holds you upright as you make a mess of him, the pillows, front-end of the sheets and fluffy throw-over. You convulse around him as you spray the bed, your body jolting each time you squirt. Your mouth is agape the entire time in an airless wail, drool dripping down your chin. He lets go of you when you finish your spectacle and you fall limply onto your cum, unable to move. You listen as he takes a deep breath, shakily exhaling. “Oh wonderful.~” He moans, moving into your recovering vision. The black spots eventually fade from view and your face to face with the smiling, sweaty magician. He holds an expression of happiness, one that contrasts drastically to your defeated one. “What could you possibly be smiling about now?” You grumble, your extremities feeling numb. “I haven’t had one that can squirt in so long. You’re going to be so much more fun.~” He lustifully drawls, backing out of your view soon after. So that’s what that was? It sure is intense. You feel him petting your head, laying on the other side of you. He’s waiting for you to recover. How...nice? The silence that overtakes you two is comfortable. It prods a stem of information out of you. “Four…” You say, breaking the silence. “Four what?” “Four months. I’ve been stationed here to scout you out for four months now.” You whisper, shakily raising yourself up to a sitting position. Hisoka looks pleased. “That’s all I’m going to tell you.” You firmly say, refusing to spill anymore vital information.

“Mm...I don’t think it is.” The transmuter frowns, grabbing you by the neck. He gives your throat a light, warning squeeze. “Eh?! But you used me already! You’re done!” You exclaim, your two nimble hands wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to retch his hand off of your neck. Hisoka simply smiles, pointing downwards. “I haven’t even cum yet.” His point is emphasized by his still hard cock, which is absolutely drenched in your juices at this point. “And we’ve still got nine hours left.” He smiles, letting go of your throat. You swallow. Just what have you gotten yourself into? You lean into your hands, using the support to keep you upright. You look down at him as he rests against the semi-soaked pillows with his hands tucked beneath his shoulders, his eyes closed and that same signature, lazy smug smirk written all over his face. You decide to run your gaze over his bare body, taking it all in. This is the first and most likely last time you’ll ever be able to see it, so you take advantage of it.

So...this is what the body of a trained mass murderer looks like. There’s only muscle, not a single ounce of excess skin being apparent on him. You look up at his angular face. All points of his face were sharp. Not a plane untouched. It’s then you notice his hair sticking to his sweaty pale forehead. His makeup appears smudged as well, making it apparent that he’s wiped his face from the amount he sweat. He still holds a formidable amount of stamina, but he can sweat. At least he’s not invincible to normal human woes, unlike many others claim. He’s not nearly as sweaty as you though. You look over the muscled plane of his chest. His two pectorals jut out intimidatingly. He’s certainly ripped, judging by his eight-pack that follows suit. You wonder what intense training he had to undergo to obtain abdominals of that capacity. You shiver. Nothing good. You know that’s for sure. Then comes his erection, which is resting against his stomach, hard as ever. It twitches, surely unhappy that it hasn’t released yet. You swallow. You have no idea how you’re going to get him to achieve his peak after you’ve reached your own around a total of four times now, each more intense than the last. You shift your gaze, moving to his toned legs. He had some killer thighs. You can only dream that your plushy thighs will reach that amount of muscle and definition. His calves were just as strong. His feet were clawed just like his hands. You realize that the more you stare at him, the more you lust for him. Damn your carnal desires. Yet...you have him for another nine hours. You can take your fill...and surely you wouldn’t want to be near him again, right? Yeah. That has to be right. You decide that it’s your turn to become the predator, smoothing a hand over his abs. The hard muscle contracts at your touch and you see him open one yellow eye in the corner of your left eye. Perfect. Let him watch you enjoy his body. You trace the dips in between each muscle, watching intently as the abdominal muscle contracts under each of your touches. It’s kind of beautiful in its own sinister way. You continue this until you reach your face down, running your tongue over each one instead. You hear him grunt under his breath, a smile forming on your lips as you proceed, licking all the way down to his member. As soon as you reach it, you stare down at it as if you’re starving, craving the taste of it. And at the current moment, you were. You stand his dick up with your hand, gazing at the length and thickness of it. This monstrosity has been inside you twice and you didn’t have much time to explore it with your mouth earlier. You peek over at his face. Both of Hisoka’s yellow eyes are open, watching you closely. He remains in his restful position, seeming to encourage you to discover on your own. You smile to yourself.

You move your hand up and down his dick softly, watching and feeling as it twitches in your hand, excited to have some attention. You smirk, moving so you’re in between Hisoka’s legs this time. He moves to accommodate you and you get yourself comfortable between them, staring up into his dark gaze as you hold his hard cock. He’s not smiling. You keep eye contact with him as you kiss the tip of his dick, kitten licking it. His upper lip twitches, but he remains impassive otherwise. You smile, accepting the unspoken challenge. Keeping your eyes trained on his, you suck his tip into your mouth, running your tongue around it. It appears to be sensitive, telling by the way he hisses and the way his body shivers. His eyes narrow a bit and yours remain open, wanting to see his raw reaction. He doesn’t break eye contact with you. You suck him further into your mouth, slowly of course. He grits his teeth, sucking in a breath. You run your tongue on his sensitive underside, drawing a shaky exhale from him. You keep going down, relaxing your throat when he reaches that point. His yellow eyes alight in surprise as you keep slurping him down all the way to the bottom. As he cock fills up your narrow throat, he throws his head back, strain apparent in the muscles of his neck. A choked moan leaves his lips and you cheer victoriously in your head. Your lips eventually touch the base of his dick. You’ve successfully swallowed him whole. You pause for a moment. Then, you swallow around the mass in your throat, listening as a laboured breath exhales into a deep, breathy moan. With your newfound skill, you lurch back all the way, sucking yourself back to the bottom quicker now. A heated hiss reaches your ears and you watch as his head raises back up, his eyes reconnecting with yours, alight with a fiery desire. You smile in your head, looking at him with an innocence that drives him utterly crazy. You continue your ministrations, drinking in all the noises the magician makes. “S-Such a - uhhn! - ggggood girl!” He pants, a strained smirk reaching his face. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of his praise. This must’ve turned him on more than anything because you hear a loud, “Ohhh fuuuck!” You smile to yourself, continuing to suck him off before he eventually spills into your mouth, which you swallow. You pull back and look down at Hisoka, who’s panting heavily. Sweat adheres to his whole body. His usual slicked back hair is now all over the place and his usual calm demeanor is replaced with that of a mess. You look down at him in shock. You caused...this? You smile. You’re proud of yourself. It must be one of the rarest things to see Hisoka Morrow looking like this. And damn if you didn’t deserve it!

“Tch.” Hisoka tuts, looking away in...shame?! “Eh?! What?!” You exclaim in confusion. One of the most feared people in the world? Shame?

“Not very many people get to see me like this…much less a sex worker like you…” He sighs, an aura of utter shame surrounding him. Your left eye twitches. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I’m more than just a sex worker!” You yell at him, smacking his shoulder for added effect. You grit your teeth, crossing your arms before you get too rough with it. “It’s just…,” He continues, piquing your interest. “None of them have made me do this before.” And he scoots up, tucking his legs into his body and sitting up in them, turning so his back is facing you. You gasp as you see deep scratch marks lining up both of his shoulder blades. They lined up perfectly with Hisoka’s own hands. “You...did this to yourself?” You ask softly, reaching out to prod around the wound. He covers it with his hand though, turning around to face you once more. Your hand then lands on his pale cheek instead. Hisoka pauses for just a brief moment, stunned. He enraptures your right hand in his left one, moving your hand closer to his mouth. You yelp in surprise when he bites your palm, throwing your hand away from his face. He smirks. You shake your hand in an attempt to will away the pain, glaring at him. You shove him with a Nen-powered blow. It clearly doesn’t do anything and he slowly falls backwards, dramatically plopping on his back. You roll your eyes. A lazy smile makes way to his face. “Say [Y/N]...Would you be willing to do more work this time? I’m feeling a bit tired.~'' It's only then you notice he’s erect again.

You bristle. “What?! Hisoka, you horndog!”

Hisoka chuckles deeply. “Sorry, I can’t help it staring at you.”

You blush heavily from that comment, crossing your arms again and turning away. You hear him move too late before you can evade and he grabs you, pulling you atop of him. You have to place your hands on his chest to stop yourself from falling forward. You first look down at him in some sort of surprise, then one of anger. “I’m not just a sex worker, Hisoka.” You snidely comment, sitting up straight and crossing your arms. He frowns. “I know you’re not, [Y/N].” He replies honestly, nothing giving way to any form of deception whatsoever. You look at him again and sigh. “I can’t.” You mumble. Hisoka pauses. “Come again?” “I can’t.” You say louder, looking away bashfully. Hisoka tilts his head. “Why not?” “Because I’m not turned on.” You say flatly, looking him dead in the eye. His yellow eyes grow dark with lust. “I can change that.” He rasps. “Yeah but you don’t want to do any-“

“Come sit on my face.”

You blink.

“What.”

“Come sit on my face.” He repeats in that same seductive voice of his, the same mischievous grin on his face, the same sultry look in his yellow eyes.

Your face shines a brilliant shade of red. “What’s wrong, [Y/N]? You’re looking a bit...flustered.” Hisoka chuckles. You swallow your pride. Hisoka knows what he’s doing. “Okay. I will.” He smiles deviously at your consent, watching your crawl up and over his face. He places his hands at the tops on your thighs, willing you to sit on his face. As soon as his mouth connects with your pussy, he sets straight to work, claiming every inch with his mouth. Your body convulses in surprise and you let out a choked moan. His eyes haven’t disconnected from yours, watching you intently. His tongue manages to slip inside you and you gasp, letting out a wail of pleasure. His grips tightens on your thighs and his hips raise slightly. He quickly settles back down, continuing to feast on you. You grab the top of the headboard for balance, subconsciously beginning to grind against his face. Hisoka’s breathing changes instantly and he’s quick to move out from beneath you. You pant, sitting on his navel. He wipes his mouth, licking his lips. He still wears his signature smirk, albeit lazily. “You can’t do that, [Y/N].~ You almost made me skip the main course.” Hisoka murmurs huskily, getting comfortable. You position yourself over his dick, looking down at him nervously. He smiles up at you, easing your anxiety. You slowly begin to sit down on his hard cock, gasping as he fills you up yet again. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling. You struggle to get the rest of him inside of you, but you manage at your own pace, fully sitting down on him now. You whine at the feeling of being so full. Hisoka shakily exhales, gripping the sheets below him. “Don’t be afraid to move, [Y/N].” He growls and you get the point, pushing yourself up and back down. You whimper as Hisoka grunts. You place your hands on his toned chest for leverage, pressing down as you push yourself up again, pulling yourself up to his tip before sinking back down. You set a steady rhythm, moaning up a storm. Hisoka lets his own pleasure be known through deep groans and shudders. It felt different in this position. His cock seems to be going deeper within you. Your moans end on a higher octave because of this. Hisoka seems to be enjoying this just as much, thrusting up to meet you in the middle. His hand creeps up your body, starting by rubbing your clit a few times, making you squeal. He then rubs his hand over your stomach, enjoying the beauty of it. You grow flustered at his actions, feeling shy. He eventually slides up your body to reach his goal: your boob. You squeak at his light squeeze on your right breast, slightly messing up the rhythm of your bouncing. Hisoka smirks with gritted teeth and flips you on your back, effectively taking over. He speeds up the pace, causing you to raise your voice. “Ahn- fuck! Hi-Hisoka!” You moan loudly, your toes curling as your orgasm approaches fast. “Are you -pant- gonna cum again, [Y/N]?” Hisoka groans, fucking you as fast as he can. You nod your head vigorously, too caught up in the feeling of your body almost breaking with the pressure building up. Hisoka smiles at your response, moving his hand down your beautiful stomach and reaching your clit. With just a few more circular motions on it, you snap, arching your back with a cry. Just like that, he sends you flying into the realm of ecstasy once again. You’re blinded by a white light before you finally come crashing down, back landing flat on the bed.

You were breathing hard, your arm laying over your eyes as you calm down. You hear Hisoka lay beside you, panting as well. When you feel calm enough, you lower your arm from your face, looking over at Hisoka, who’s resting peacefully beside you. His hair was disheveled from his usual slicked back style. It now rests over his sweaty forehead and the pieces that aren’t resting on his forehead are slicked back behind his ears and the back of his neck. He looks like quite the specimen right about now. He glances over to you as well, feeling you examining his face. It boosts his ego. He smiles lazily, running his eyes over your face. He really appreciates your features. They were so gorgeous to him, especially those [e/c] eyes. He’s too worn out to do anything more, so he rests his eyes, falling asleep.

You decide to take a nap as well, tired from all the activity.

You soon pass out for an undetermined amount of time.

*******

Word count: 4700+

Next chapter should be expected next Saturday, May 15th. I will hold to it this time!

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: May 15th Part 1

It’s been longer than usual since our last answer session, so I’m answering a ton of questions today! It’s so big I split it into two parts. Thank you for the patience on getting a response to these.

Thanks for reaching out to us with your questions and kind words ^^!

Sorry if this has been asked before or isn't something you can say but is there anyway for Cove to confess in step 4? I wanted him to confess in step 3 and followed all the steps to make him do it but ended up texting my family instead of Cove at the end.

Yeah, Cove can confess in Step 4!

Hello! I heard that Cove is on the spectrum, albeit undiagnosed. As someone who is ND, this makes me UNBELIEVABLY happy. I literally was brought to tears! Thank you for that!

Out of curiosity, will Cove be diagnosed in Step 4? I have a strong feeling y’all won’t make it a HUGE deal/make it out to be negative, so I’m not worried about that whatsoever! I’m just curious just he’ll off handedly mention it? Or will it just not be touched upon at all (which is ok!)?

Either way is ok, I’m just curious!

I’m happy it made you happy! Admittedly, Cove simply being someone with autism that grew up not being diagnosed was something I included for myself. I didn’t really think anyone would notice or ask about it, aha. But players did start to have questions about his traits, so I started to talk about it outside of the game. It’s great to see it get such a positive response and now I do feel like having it be a non-topic may have been the wrong choice and bringing it up would’ve been good in terms of having positive representation for that. I don’t know if I’ll find a way to mention it in Step 4 now, with how far along the game is, but I am at least thinking about it when originally it wasn’t something I really even considered.

Hey!  Just wanted to say thank you for Our Life.  It's been a bright spot and a needed escape in what's otherwise been a crummy year.  I know you just did a Q&A post but I figured I'd ask anyway.  Was just curious about Step 4.  Will it be similar to the other Steps in that it consists of several different moments or will it just be one long sequence?

Step 4 is shorter than the prior Steps because it’s just an epilogue rather than a full arc of a story. It’ll consist of scenes that all happen in a set row one after the other. There won’t be a collection of Moments to choose from. But it’ll still be very sweet and fun.

¡hola!, you see, first I want to say that I love Our Life! (°◡°♡) and I have 2 important questions, would Cove cry watching titanic? and what is the saddest part according to him? (sorry for my english) 

Titanic would make him cry. He’d probably think the parts showing people who aren’t able to make it to the life boats/are choosing to stay and go down with the ship were the saddest.

Hello, I wanted to ask how much you earn with creating games? Like is it possible to make a living? Thank you >< <3 

How much I earn varies a lot month to month based on Steam sales, Patreon backers, and how many projects are in full production at the time. It’s also hard to say how much I make historically, since that also changes dramatically year by year. But I do earn enough to work on these games full time! I really appreciate all the support that allows me to do that.

Hey!! I was wondering for the 18+ Our Life moment, will there be an emphasis on safety/comfort for all involved? I feel like there  would be just going off of what the rest of the game is like, but I wanted to ask 

Yes! Cove is a nervous boy himself and also super cautious about doing anything the MC doesn’t like, so clear consent from both is absolutely needed for anything to happen. It’s a conversational sexy times Moment with stops/starts so the two can talk about how they’re feeling, rather than a heat of the moment just going for it kind of thing.

Hey!! I was wondering how long the wedding dlc would be? Will it be broken up into moments, or just one big event? 

It’s one long series of scenes all in a row rather than a collection of Moments to pick from. It’s the shortest and the least expensive of all the DLCs. It’s not super crucial to get and those who aren’t into big weddings can totally skip it without worry.

HELLO AMAZING DEVS 👋 i am hopelessly in love with the worst guy ever (jeremy king) and because of this i have a really stupid question: does he really hate people who are nice to him? TvT he’s too cute to be mean to istg it’s a miracle JB held the urge to be consistently nice to him bc just look at his FACE he is so cute! thank you for jeremy’s route it’s so lovely (and awful bc he’s scum 11/10) it gave me so much laughs LMAO i hope you guys have a good day!! 

Haha, thank you. He doesn’t hate them but he’s certainly not pleased with them. Jeremy is either uncomfortable with or annoyed by people being sweet on him, depending on how they approach it. He’s far more comfortable with jerkiness. It lets him relax and he can be himself without it being a problem, since he’s also a jerk. He feels a level of guilt being such a little punk to kind people, not enough to be a better person but still.

Has Cove dated or been interested in someone other than MC? 

Nope! He stays single over the course of the game if he’s not with the MC.

Is Step 4 more mature? Or it's gonna be set in similar atmosphere as Step 3? 

Step 4 is a similar atmosphere as Step 3. Though, it’s actually kind of less mature-topic heavy than Step 3 since it’s just a ‘hey, let’s check in on the gang to see what they’re up to’ style epilogue rather than a story arc with serious issues.

will there be new music for now and forever?? or will the old our life music be reused? 

It’s gonna be a brand new soundtrack. We’ll be opening up a job position for that soon.

Hi, is it okay if we use the assets in Our Life (like the sprites) for fanworks or fan content content, like edits? 

Sure! Just as long as you don’t use the assets made by those artists to make money.

Quick clarification on Step 3 choices: I hope I didn't come off rude (because I LOVE the game, really!!), I was just curious because the intro threw me off at times. For example, you could choose how you felt about Elizabeth in Step 2 (Dinner), but during the Step 3 intro, it says that you got closer to Liz and I didn't get a choice in it. 

For the example, it can’t be helped that you’re closer to Liz in Step 3 than you were in Step 2 because she’s inherently closer to the MC regardless of whether you liked her or not in Step 2. Her feelings are out of your control and the game isn’t so dramatic that you can push her affection away and not let her bond with you, haha. But ‘being closer’ can still be relative. For some people maybe that means you’re best buds now and for others it might just mean you’re not fighting all the time any more. If there’s other parts you want to mention, feel free to let us know.

Did the illustrator for Our Life change? 

We have many OL artists! The main artists who set the game’s style haven’t changed, but there’s multiple other artists who help finish assets.

So Miranda's type is confident and outgoing, huh? So...does that mean Terri's her type?? 👀 

Haha, sorry for the late reply on this. As you might’ve seen in our post yesterday- yeah that is her type.

Hey! First, I just want to say I've really enjoyed how detailed OL got with gender identity and sexuality and how respectful the topics were handled! It's been so wonderful to play since the experiences could be close to my own (I'd be lying if I said I didn't tear up at parts). Second, I was wondering, would future games explore the topic of polyamory? I'd love to see more visual novels allow room for that and I saw you've explored the topic before.

Keep up the amazing work! ♡

Thank you! We do want to include polyamory in at least some of our future projects. Floret Bond, which might be what you’re referring to when mentioning how we’ve explored the topic before, is on hold unfortunately. So right now I’m not sure when something might release or what will be the first game of ours to come out with poly relationships (we might do something else before FB is done). We’ll have see how things ends up coming together.

Hey um. I feel like im not allowed to ask this on the private discord cuz people will yell at me but why is there so much focus on OL2 and not finishing OL1 stuff? I like the new people but i kind of want to finish cove's story and get derek and baxter stuff first. didn't people pay for it? 

I’m sorry, I don’t understand entirely what’s making that situation a concern. There’s a channel in the discord for critique where no one is allowed to comment back. People can voice things they’re worried about without any way for others to push back on it. And the two teams working on the OL games are different. We try to post pretty often about how we’re hiring brand new people to start on Our Life: Now & Forever. The OL1 team is all still working on OL1 like normal. There’s only more updates on the Patreon for OL2 because the expansions to the first game are mostly script-based at this point while OL2 is just starting to get all its art, which means there’s a lot more to show off as previews.

Also, there was a Kickstarter for the first Our Life, if that’s what you mean by people paying for it. But one of the stretch goals was to start Our Life 2 early, before fully completing Our Life 1, so that the new game could be out sooner. It wouldn’t make sense to stop doing OL2 work because that would be going against what backers were promised. Maybe you didn’t get the full story before and hopefully this clears it up!

Hello! I know it's up to every player but.. What is your recommendation for playing order? Did you ever had any timeline  events planned? 

I didn’t make the events with a planned timeline. The events got made simply as I had ideas for them and then I just kind of organized them from left to right on the screen in an order to space out more dramatic ones between more lighthearted ones. Any order the player wants to go with is totally valid!

Hi! It's Step 4 a paid dlc or update? And how long it's planned to be? Ps. Love the game! 

The Step 4 epilogue is free! The Cove Wedding DLC does cost money, though. Those are planned to be shorter than the usual Steps/DLCs.

Will we have options for what sort of job the MC might have by the time step 4 takes place? 

Yeah, you can. It’s not super exact or detailed, but there are options about it.

Is there a pandemic in Our Life world, or is it just in a better timeline with no pestilence? 

Our Life is pandemic-free! That didn’t exist when we began working on the project and it’s not something we’d like to feature in this story now that it has unfortunately come along, aha.

Hi, you said that you can play tic-tac-toe or hangman with Cove in Boating if you're sick/scared but I keep getting tic-tac-toe. Am I doing something wrong?

After being sick/scared you have to continue to be upset/unwell. If you calm down and decide to just chill you’ll end up playing tic-tac-toe.

Hi, GB Patch! Since Lee was initially commissioned to only appear in two Steps does this mean she won't appear in the Wedding DLC? I really like her character so it'll be a little weird to not have our cousin at our wedding, aha.

She is gonna be in Step 4/the wedding DLC after all! We’re still working with her creator to make sure it fits with what they wanted.

Is Sunset Bird based on a real place? Asking for a friend, not trying to move there or anything. 👀

It’s based on small beach towns in So-Cal, but not one specific town you could go see in real life, I’m afraid. It’d be nice if it was real, though.

—– —– —– —–

We released a new FAQ! It answers common questions and we’ll keep adding more to it. Please check there before sending an ask. FAQ   Also, if you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

[flowerflamestars]

I'm in a very angry-with-the-IC-and-Rhys-in-particular mood, and since I'm just rereading Daylight I was wondering, what is going through Rhysand's mind throughout the events of Daylight? Because it's basically his entire life CRUMBLING around him and I'd love to see the mental gymnastics he does to fit it all into his "I'm the good guy, actually" narrative. Or just his general reaction.

this is a FABULOUS question, thank you!

Daylight! Rhys is, in my opinion, the closest to a canonical (pre-acosf) character representation that I go for. He's so SO fucked up, and sublimating and burying all that trauma has, of course, failed, and it's all manifesting, in all these different directions.

To understand the level on which Rhys is losing his shit, it's important to go back to the very beginning: Rhysand, to Rhysand, is always, always the hero of the story. The down on his luck knight with truth in his heart. The struggling, just man.

He CANNOT seeing beyond himself for even a second. He casts himself in the most important role, as the only person whose personal consequences exist.

His mother, at probable great risk, takes him to Illyria to be trained- the precious, first-born, godly son of Night. To learn to fight- to learn, presumably, her culture- to see what that culture is reduced to, a harshness he will on day have the power to change. Rhys had to be, at some point, a great hope for Not High Fae denizens of the Court.

What does Rhysie learn? Illyria is harsh. Illyria is bad. Backwards and cruel.

He hates his father for...presumably, the crime of being a pretty traditional High Lord? Rhys hates the cruelties! the Court of Nightmares! the broken system!

So what does Rhys do when he has power? he fires everyone. He doesn't like them, he doesn't like whatever they did under his father...so instead of hiring new people, he removes himself entirely from a potential role in changing/mitigating those policies. See also: the Court of Nightmares, cowed occasionally, but not in any way governed by Rhys.

But he's the hero! He's destroyed the oppression! His Court of Just his Bros is made of women and Illyrians!

(Rhys removed the terribleness from his direct experience...because only his experiences matter)

So, Rhys in his head: the struggle, the hero, the man just trying to do it right.

Which brings us to Daylight....and Feyre. I know we can attribute the way the characters stop even remotely being sympathetic between acomaf and...everything else...to poor writing, but I also think there's some (maybe accidental but PERFECT) character work there: in acomaf, pre-acknowledged bond, Feyre is an important possession/ally- she's on the same level as the other members of the Court of Dreams, if the jewel of the collection, a high point in the story Rhys tells himself: HE saved the HERO OF PRYTHIAN

(which...let's not even touch on the fact that the deal he makes in acotar is CREEPY and he can only justify it later. she wasn't someone he wanted to work with in acotar- she was a vulnerable, hot young woman he fully took advantage of)

And then they're mates.

And then, slowly but surely, Feyre's personhood disappears. For two reasons: 1) Feyre is on a pedestal so sky-high it blots out everything. Good, pure, true hero Feyre whose adoration Rhysand needs like air. the happy end of his story, the prize and the salvation, the one who sees him.

and 2) ultimately, to Rhys, Feyre is an extension of him. A symbol: his happiness, his peace, his endless power, what he fought to keep.

She's his whole anchor staying sane, which isn't great, considering...ya know, everything. But the Story is Over. They are Happy.

Except- except- nothing is over. Post fifty straight years of torture, a freefall into war and fuckery, teen marriage and literal death, the consequences for all those things AND THE SHIT RHYS WAS PULLING LONG BEFORE AMARANTHA TURNED HIM INTO A CHEW TOY, are still present.

But now, he has something to protect. His golden future. His puppy Mate.

Because Feyre's safety is the safety of his power and vice versa. Anything he does is justifiable because the loss of Feyre is Not an Option. She is Happy. They Are Happy.

It bleeds into everything- and then it intensifies, because this is the breaking point.

The Az/Lucien thing and Feyre incredibly hurtful blindness? No Rhys isn't going to interfere- Az is so private anyway- if Feyre believes its a romantic bond, Feyre is right, she knows her sister, not that it matters because Elain is totally out of her mind.

Sending Cassian to Illyria? Illyria is a backwards shithole right? They're fierce fighters and that's what Rhys values them for- as the hammer of his power- and nothing else? why would there be anything else? Look at them fighting and hurting each other.

Nesta runs and Cassian is left throwing himself in battles actively trying to die and Rhys? Rhys is totally smug. A problem that hurt Feyre and his brother is GONE.

But it's not gone. Az isn't talking to anyone- and Rhys thinks this probably means Lucien is probably, finally fucking him- but even Feyre understands that Azriel knows where Nesta is. When this is proved (when Elain surfaces and they have the very fun kitchen fight) Rhys isn't happy- but he understands. Azriel has always felt responsible for broken things.

But thats not his job, it's Rhysands job, and Rhys has already made that tough choice for the safety of his own: Nesta has no place here. When she resurfaces inevitably, broke and wanting something, Rhys will stop her before she gets close enough to upset (hurt) Feyre. It's his job.

Cassian goes missing, and Rhysand sets upon what will become his eventual move: Illyria's value is strength. (a martial strength that belongs to RHYS). But they think they can take from him? They can destroy their own best chance? (Rhys recognizes Cassian's value to Illyria even while, you know, ordering him to slaughter Illyrians) They would threaten his power? hurt his family?

Rhys will not allow a world to exist where Feyre can be hurt.

If Illyria can't be controlled, Illyria will be put down, like the rabid creatures they are. (They were always backwards, Rhys thinks. Freeing my mother was the one good thing my father ever did)

But Cassian lives.

Rhys asks Azriel if he's been cursed. Az laughs in his face.

And Cassian is a terrible enemy to have. The strategies the loyalists are using? His, filtered through Rhys. The magical contingencies? Cassian and Az, trying to prevent bloodshed.

Feyre thinks, for a long time, that maybe the rebels have Nesta. What else could compel Cassian to even care? these people keep trying to kill him. they want to kill Rhys. the brothers suffered in the frozen mud at the hands of these monsters, what is Cassian doing?

And then the massacre happens.

And Feyre sick to her stomach, cries when she hears. Rhysand thinks about a little hazel eyed boy who'd never had a bed, a present, who'd been nothing until Rhysand plucked him up- a little boy who'd grown into a dangerous man, who'd just killed every person who ever contributed to his pain. Rhys thinks, knowing he'll have to punish Cassian for this, that it's over.

The camp lords are dead, it has to be over.

(Azriel hears and understands- because he knows damn well Cassian was something before Rhysand, and after despite him. That beneath those repeatedly broken ribs is a heart that was once so big so save him, grown strong enough now to save everyone who was like them: forgotten, abandoned, used.)

It's not over. The mountains are burning. Banners fly on northern wind in a language long dead. They're singing, the spies say, they call him dawn. Loyal-heart-as-dawn.

It's Cassians name. Not that Rhys, who never knew more than a few vile insults in the language of his mother's ancient, proud people, understood it then.

Rhysand, the long-suffering hero of his own story, has been betrayed.

He can risk no more- it's time to end this madness. It's Feyre's idea to use Elain- it's Feyre who is left crying, a betrayal Rhysand will never forget- when Elain, who they've given everything, Elain, perhaps just as broken and wretched as her eldest sister, refuses to help keep Feyre safe.

(Elain refuses to participate in what she sees as genocide, but as we've established, what consequences exist? the ones Rhys feels right in front of his face)

Azriel, Elain, and Lucien run.

Of course, if both Feyre's sisters are capable of betraying her, of course, both of Rhysand's brothers would as well. They are one in the same, aren't they? Marked by destiny, by fate for this hard and terrible work- of course it hurts. Of course- but Rhysand will stop it from hurting Feyre any more.

There's one force in the world that can stand in truth against Illyria. The Darkbringers- their ancestral, ancient conquers.

(Yes, I do think Rhys knows the shitty, shitty history of his court! He just doesn't care! He didn't do it. He's different. He's in Velaris with the common people. He has wings. He's not his father.)

(He is, in fact, far worse)

When he thinks of it, it seems perfect. Illyria will be destroyed- a loss, but a safe one. Keir, will, almost certainly, also be destroyed or at least critically weakened.

Rhysand will stand alone, the man who was willing to do anything for peace. He will rule over an emptied playing field, secure in a world where Feyre is safe.

The Hewn City empties, the armies march- Rhysand holds tight Feyre's hand, says nothing about the fact that nothing, nothing, will stop Keir from killing anyone in front of him when battle starts, and reaches once more for Cassian's mind.

His brother, his friend, his loyal right hand- he begs him to come back. To come home. That they can put down this rebellion and in his love for Cassian everything can go back to how it is meant to be, all of them together.

It does not occur to him to address the hundreds dead. The system he was complicit in and responsible for that ground a culture to dust and ash- what matters is brother against brother should never have turned, and Rhys, in his kindness, will offer Cassian this last chance for honor.

Rhys doesn't want Cassian to die- he wants Cassian by his side- but he will drown the world in blood before he'll lose his crown and hope and Feyre.

And when Cassian dies, falling to the earth in Rhysand's arms, Rhys thinks of penance.

A circle closed.

But of course- Cassian wakes. Death is not done with her right hand anymore than the contract between Lordship and land in immutable. Cassian brought the magic back, brought Illyria back.

Rhys is fighting for something personal- Cassian is fighting for a whole world and future, with everything in himself.

When the new border is drawn, Rhys doesn't despair- sure he's shaking, he's covered in Cassian's blood, his twelve thousand year old walls are smoking and the whole world smells like fucking Nesta Archeron- he's been the victim of curses before.

He won't let it keep him down. He'll be fine. He has Feyre, they're safe. Illyria is going to implode- and maybe, maybe, he'll save some of those that remain when the violence is too much, when they need a real High Lord.

They'll come home. Just like Feyre's sisters will. Rhysand's brothers. They fought for peace and Velaris has it- it is their home.

It's what they fought for, the happy ending, and it's all worth it.

It has to be worth it.

[legionofpotatoes]

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

[home-of-chaos]

You seem like a guy with headcanons (that and you said you like getting asks for them soooo) what are some headcanons for your version of the adults ingame wise?

Ingame adults? Hm lemme think.

I don’t have many headcanons about the first Principal except that he only cares for himself. (I have a strong bias against him. Jerome deserves a better dad, the poor boy ✊😔 ) Also im only gonna give a little bit of info for each. Feel free to ask for more headcanons for these guys by name!

Janitor:

Ah yes, one of my favorites from the adults. (Bro I was so stoked when I realized that we could actually team up with the Janitor!! Poor Bob tho.) So headcanons! He has natural silver hair (Like Agnes, Margret, Buggs, and Betty) Hes not actually that old (Monty only said that cause they got a bitter rivalry of sorts) He got a hell of a lot of scars. He had the most scars out of all the adults from fights in the past, to day to day things, and an angry redhead in a wheelchair. He ends up with a soft spot for Kidd viewing him as a son of some sort, he was also one of the first adults that learned of the time loops first do to Kidd venting his frustrations to janitor. He stops wanting to kill Bob the very next day (Wednesday) when Bob gave him cookies. (It’s really not that hard to win this guy’s friendship honestly) He finds Bob annoying sometimes though but he finds practically everyone annoying. He’s dating Betty (1st Lunchlady) and live together in a small cramped appartement. He and AppleGate are childhood friends, he takes deals very seriously. He also has the tendencies to reference things in the past a lot (he has a small fascination with history.) The main reasons he was so aggressive towards Bob is due to fear of loosing his job to him. Betty lost her job when the first school closed down so Money is now excruciatingly tight. Also he goes by Janitor cause he can’t remember his name

LunchLady (Betty):

She runs multiple jobs plus being the lunchlady at the kg 1 building. Her and Margret are actually friends. She has EXTREMELY horrible eye sight but can’t afford any glasses so she tends to be rather clumsy that’s also why you can see a shoe in her slop. She can’t see. Her and the Janitor are dating. She absolutely loves children and liked her job. She was horrified when she discovered the Principal’s body with Jerome and spent that night comforting him and his mother. She also lost her job when they merged schools since the Second Principal refused to hire her. Oh she’s also Nugget’s aunt.

AppleGate:

She has the second most amount of scars from being experimented on by the first Principal (that’s why she also took the pills. He doesn’t need her remember that or else she would have tried to stop him cause Billy was the ONLY student she actually cared for) Shes easily irritated but also very easy to distract or please. She hates Cindy the most with Buggs being a close second. She also has extreme anxiety and grey hair from stress. Her favorite student is Kidd. She also technically doesn’t need glasses except to read but just decides to wear them 24/7 anyways cause she’d loose them if she didn’t. She’s a hopeless romantic and will annoy the fuck out of the Janitor with all her relationship stories (she also tells this to Cindy (the only time you will see the two getting along.)

Bob:

He’s extremely friendly and is also the bus driver for the kg 2 place. He and Danner knew eachother since preschool. He is fascinated with history (much like Janitor) especially from the medieval times (hence the battle axe in the closet. He has no relationship experience hence why he had no clue what to do when he noticed he had a crush on AppleGate. He also tends to crush on people easily. He also has a crush on Danner and Agnes. He has experience with teaching and will occasionally help out the teachers with class. Penny views him as a dad along with a few of the other kids. He tends to say dad jokes a lot as well and he loves baking. He will sometimes bake cookies for the kids with Margret.

Danner:

Danner is the youngest adult (a month younger than Bob, 2nd P, and Margret, a year behind AppleGate and Janitor, and two years younger than Agnes and Betty) he also had the third most amount of scars, majority being from his mother or his experiments. His favorite student is likely Felix do to being practically the perfect student. He often uses Felix as a perfect reference when scolding other students for misbehavior. “Why can’t you be more like Felix? He’d never stoop this low.” He also has the tendency to mock people when they make a mistake and is rather stuck up, on that constant high horse of his. He and Janitor bicker all the time. He is definitely the nagging type and tends to lecture people a LOT! If you got a question, DONT ASK HIM. He will go on and on for HOURS. Even if the question was as simple as “what time is it?”

Agnes

She’s aware of the time loops, she’s been aware since she first saw Kidd. Also she’s actually incredibly smart but the green goop that Penny makes her drink messes with her brain a lot. The unnamed monster that Bob fights is her daughter. She went to the school cause she saw Penny take her daughter and ended up being drugged into insanity by the principal to the point she forgot her own identity and just kinda vibes in the dumpster with some kittens she found. Penny gives her the goop to keep her from remembering. The Janitor instantly befriends her the first time they met. She also scared the mess out of both Danner and Bob when they first met her. She’s very sociable despite not remembering proper manners or common sense.

I’m on the fence if I want the Second Principal to have a deep character or not. I’m even on the fence on including her in my main KG au. If I do she will go through an intense redemption arc. I suppose the choice is yalls if you guys want me to include her or not!

[365days365movies]

February 14, 2021: Brokeback Mountain (2005) (Part 1)

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Or Palentine’s, Galentine’s, Single Persons Appreciation Day, what have you!

Anyway, on this day where we (and the greeting card companies) celebrate love in all of its forms, I think it’s about time to diversify my movie choices a little bit. SO, for the next few days at least, we’re going to change it up, starting with a film that shook the 2005 public’s perceptions of love: Brokeback Mountain.

And who brings this movie to us? Same guy who gave us this:

And this:

And would give us this:

Ang Lee wasn’t originally meant to be the director of the film, as Gus van Sant was signed on to do it. You know, Good Will Hunting, Drugstore Cowboy, that one movie where Una Thurman plays the greatest hitchhiker in the world with giant thumbs, and eventually finds herself meeting multiple people, including Keanu Reeves, Pat Morita (Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid), and a group of radicalesbians who like in the Great Plains, coexisting with a group of critically endangered whooping cranes to whom they;’ve fed peyote, while also opposing the intentions of an evil feminine hygiene product company that seeks to take over the land for their factories? YOU KNOW, THAT MOVIE?

It’s called Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, and I wasn’t even slightly exaggerating with that summary, I SWEAR.

Anyway, he couldn’t do it, and Joel Schumacher also passed on it eventually, so they asked Ang Lee if he’d do it. After CTHD and Hulk, dude was on his way to retire, but after he cried at the end of the script, he accepted the job. AND HISTORY WAS MADE

Before I get into it, I should probably frank about something. I’m a cissexual, heterosexual man in a straight relationship with my girlfriend. She says hi, by the way. Here she is, a massive Jake Gyllenhaal fan, getting ready to watch this movie for the first time with me:

Isn’t she lovely? Anyway, just thought I’d be totally transparent about that. Incidentally, I remember when this film came out, as well as the fervor around it. This was JUST as the gay marriage debate was EXPLODING into the public scene, so this was obviously quite the talking point at the time.

 Anyway, shall we find out who’s not going to quit whom? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Cowboys Ennis del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) are waiting outside of a trailer, with Ennis having just arrived  on a truck that reminded me of Optimus Prime, and I’m sorry. They’ve been hired by Joe Aguirre (Randy Quaid) to look after a group of sheep and guide them over Brokeback Mountain, a fictional mountain in Wyoming.

The two finally introduce each other, with Ennis seeming considerably closed off as compared to the open Jack Twist. They head to a bar, where the two get to know each other a but better Jack’s an occasional shepherd, but highly involved in rodeos throughout the year. Ennis, meanwhile, is a regular ranchhand at his family’s farm.

Time for sheep-herding, as the two guide their flock of sheep on horseback, with soft country guitars playing in the background over all of it. And I gotta say, the music combined with the visuals is giving me this real sleepy ambience vibe that I 100% would watch specifically to fall asleep to. Which is not an insult by any means, by the way; it’s just super relaxing.

The two make camp with the sheep in a mountain valley, and now I want to go camping. I realize that it’s February, and I live in a place VERY non-conducive to camping, but GODDAMN this movie makes me want to go camping. In the wilderness, surrounded by bird calls and crisp mountain air, LET’S GO.

We find out that Ennis is engaged to be wed to a woman named Alma, while Jack is yearning to break free of needing to take jobs like this. And all the while, they’re eating beans, scaring away coyotes, and fending of REALLY REALLY FAT American black bears, who you could really easily scare away without too much difficulty. You ever stared at a bear while both of you were in the woods? I HAVE. And we BOTH took off from each other in opposite directions. They’re not the bravest of animals, black bears. Grizzlies, however, you don’t wanna fuck with.

Anyway, after they face off against that bear and lose their newly bought supplies, they go hunting the next day and take down an elk. Which is a LOT of venison, I tell you what! Oh, and I’m not a hunter, just to be clear, but elk are fuggin’ HUGE. Seriously, XL deer they are.

Anyway, time goes on after that, and they continue to make their way through the mountains. And they get to know each other more, sharing their rodeo experiences and family backgrounds. Ennis also opens up pretty considerably, a fact not missed by Jack. The two become friends.

My girlfriend asks an interesting question: if I had never heard of this movie in any capacity...would I have known the extent of the relationship of Ennis and Jack? And honestly...I’m legitimately not sure at this point. I think I would’ve just assumed that they’d stay close friends, but no further than that. Call that being raised in a society with heterosexual bias towards relationships, or call that me not being a natural shipper. Both are probably accurate, to be honest.

Anyway, it’s getting cold out, and Jack’s sleeping in the tent one night while Ennis is freezing his balls off outside. With Jack’s insistence, he goes inside the tent to sleep next to Jack. And then...

Oh. Well, OK. Again, though, still not sure that at this point I’d...oh wait...OH...OH.

OK. Think I’d be able to tell at this point what the movie’s about.

So, yeah, they have sex. It’s spontaneous, it’s wild, it’s heat of the moment passion...and it’s REAL awkward the next day, I tell you what. That next evening, Ennis and Jack both insist that they “ain’t queer,” and that this is “a one-shot thing they got goin’.”

Uh, boys? There’s some important evidence to the contrary that we should consider here. But, OK, it’s a different culture, this is super new to you both, I get it. I’m not one to talk on the coming out or discovery experience (again, straight cis dude over here), but I understand that there’s some inherent denial. But still, they continue their relationship as is, for the time being.

Which is not as private as they thought, as Joe Aguirre observes them chasing each other naked on the mountain from afar. Whoops. Well, it doesn’t matter as much, as they still have a job to do until summer ends. And that job continues. They encounter another herd of sheep that gets tangled up with theirs, snow falls on the mountain and they have to deal with that, etc.

Then one day, the two need to head out. Jack goes to fetch Ennis, who’s moping on a hillside about something. He does this play lasso thing, which seems cute...

...until it turns into a full on brawl right there on the hillside. OK. Well. Some heavy denial going on here, I think, especially on Ennis’ part. Which is somewhat understandable, given the culture, and the fact that Ennis is engaged. Oh, by the way, hello infidelity. GodDAMN IT. Escaped you for TWO MOVIES IN A ROW, and you’re back rearing your ugly head.

Anyway, the job is done soon, and Aguirre’s not exactly happy with them, as they’ve apparently lost some sheep and picked up some from the other herd’s flock accidentally. With a light rebuke from Aguirre, the two part ways with not much else said. Jack asks if Ennis will come back the next summer, and Ennis reminds him that he’s getting married that fall. But as Ennis leaves...

Huh. Interesting reaction, that. Well, in the next scene, Ennis gets married to Alma Beers (Michelle Williams), and they seem to have a very happy relationship. They have two daughters together in a pretty small amount of time. The next summer, Jack tries to get a job with Joe Aguirre once again, but is refused on account of his relationship with Ennis on the mountain...kind of.

See, here’s the thing. Joe rebukes Jack for having their relationship on the mountain, leaving the dogs to babysit the sheep, rather than do the job they were hired for. And, uh...he’s not wrong, honestly. Yeah, OK, there’s definitely some homophobia laced in there, obviously, but they were hired to watch the sheep, and we only really saw them do that once or twice. So, yeah, sorry to say, but Joe’s not entirely unjustified in not rehiring Jack.

At a Fourth of July festival, Ennis brings his wife and daughters to see the fireworks, when a couple of bikers antagonize the crowd as a whole. This results in Ennis telling them to stop, and a fight takes place, with Ennis IMMEDIATELY taking out the two bikers, with little effort. Anger issues there, Ennis? 

Jack returns to the rodeo, with new other options for money. He’s clearly also coming to terms with his own sexuality, as seen when he not so subtly hits on a cowboy at the bar. However, he also meets a young woman, a barrel racer named Lureen Newsome (Anne Hathaway), whom he seems to get along with fairly quickly at a rodeo. They dance together at the bar that night, and, uh...park.

And that, of course, leads to their eventual marriage and parentage as well. Looks like Lureen’s parents arent the biggest fans of Jack, though. Sure that’s going to lead to a healthy relationship down the road.

Been about 4 years since Brokeback Mountain, and this is punctuated by Jack paying a visit to Ennis’ place, which Ennis is told about by Alma. He seems...very anious, waiting nervously for a day to see him. But he finally arrives, and the two embrace happily. And then...

Oh, and Alma sees? Sure, sure, oh, and they go to a motel IMMEDIATELY? Oh, OK, OK, infidelity? Yuuuuuuupyupyupyupyupyup, halfway point? Yeah, sure, see you in Part 2. Geez.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- 2 more chapters to go.) Chapter Summary- Y/n and Daniel’s wedding draws closer. After her engagement party, Y/n pays Keanu a surprise visit. 

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14

Chapter 15

2 Months Later It was funny, Y/n thought; how fast things could change, how much faster they could go back to being the same. Maybe she’d taken them for granted, maybe she should have appreciated it more. But it didn’t matter, soon, it would all just be a memory anyway. 

In a month and a half. Six weeks exactly 

By the rate things were moving at, that would be gone before she could blink and by then, Y/n would be a married woman. Mrs. Warren-Wang. It wasn’t the name she’d have chosen for herself, but then again, she hadn’t really chosen much when it came to what being married to Daniel would constitute. Her mother and Alice though, they’d had a field day making the arrangements. They’d chosen everything; from the big things like the perfect venue and the cake to little things like party favors and color schemes. They were so excited, and sometimes, Y/n wished that she was excited too, but really, she dreaded it. She was dreading her own wedding day.

When a large hand stationed itself at her back, pecking the side of her head, Y/n tried to blink away the weighty thoughts that seemed to sink her. Returning to the moment, Y/n drank in her surroundings as if it were the first time, even though she'd been there all night. They’d done a wonderful job, the decorators that her parents had hired; turning the grand ballroom at Delice into an indoor fairy tail; an artificial tree sprouted from the center of the room, its plastic branches stretching all around against the high ceiling, with twinkling fairy lights woven into the perpetually green leaves to combat the intentionally dimmed setting. In mason jars, centerpieces with light colored flowers and lone candles sat at the middle of round tables, scattered strategically about the room, on top of pristine white table cloths. It might have been the perfect engagement party, if Y/n actually wanted to be engaged. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Chuckling quietly, Y/n couldn’t help but blush. At least he was a sweetheart, it could be worse. “You have, but I don’t mind hearing it again,” turning in his embrace, Y/n looked at Daniel through her thick lashes. He was her future, whether she loved him or not. She was learning to though, maybe. They’d only recently moved in together, in a place his parents had gifted them, just one street over from where Y/n grew up and she was beginning to find that he wasn’t terrible to share a home with; he respected her opinions and never made a decision without running it by her. 

“Well,” he grinned, “You look absolutely stunning,” leaning down, Daniel caught her lips in a sweet kiss, and on instinct, Y/n reciprocated, flattening her palm of the lapel of his black suit coat, “I love you,” he murmured when they pulled apart. 

Y/n wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to saying those words to him, but for the sake of making things easier, she hoped she could. “I love you too,” it felt foreign, saying it to Daniel, and every time she did, Y/n a painful pang in her chest followed by the unshakable feeling that she was betraying Keanu, the man she really loved. 

He had taken her engagement in stride, though Y/n could see that even if he didn’t tell her, it bothered him. They’d stopped going out, to avoid being seen in public and really, the only place they ever met up was at his house, after days of planning in advance. Keanu had, unfortunately, become her dirty secret. 

“Your parents want us to say a few words before everyone starts leaving,” no wonder they liked him so much, he was always willing to do whatever they asked. “Shall we?”

Y/n nodded slightly, letting Daniel lead her to the head table, up at the front of the room. Unlike the rest, their table was long and rectangular, similar floral pieces dominating the center of the furniture, occasionally punctuated by picturesque platters of sugary delights; macaroons that obeyed the theme and little round cakes with swirls of champagne flavored frosting on top. Behind their table on the raised portion of the large room, hung white and pink drapes, flowing effortlessly with floral garlands holding it in place at the top. 

Taking their places, Y/n stood next to Daniel, looking at the perfect picture of a doting fiancee, graciously accepting a glass of champagne as someone else handed him a microphone. When he pulled out a chair for her, Y/n smoothed the back of her ankle length, rose gold dress, the thick glittering bands running vertically along the garment rough beneath her fingers. Like everything else, the dress was her mother’s choice; long, stylish, billowy sleeves and a generous ‘v’ neck with a slit that exposed most of her legs when she sat, and finally a gold belt at her waist. Y/n was sure that her mother would be choosing her wedding dress too.

Maybe she should be the one getting married.

When Daniel reached for her left hand, Y/n let him take it, trying to smile lightly as he cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentleman,” he glanced around; all eyes were on him before long. He was like that, Y/n had found, able to command a room easily; charismatic, charming and strikingly handsome, women wanted him and men wanted to be like him. “It has been a great pleasure to be able to celebrate our engagement with you, and Y/n and I are both so grateful that we’ve gotten to share this time. But I’d like to keep you for just a minute more, so I can propose a toast to my lovely fiancee,” just after bending to kiss the back of her hand, he let to go to raise his glass, “Y/n,” he looked to her, “You are incredibly beautiful, inspiringly intelligent and everyday spent with you has been adventure, which is why I can not wait to make you my wife; so we we can spend the rest of our lives together, going new adventures, building new experiences and loving each other. To my love; Y/n.”

Just as he sat Daniel kissed her quickly and the guests cooed  quietly and when they broke, Y/n could feel all eyes on her, expecting her adoration for her groom-to-be next. What was she supposed to say anyway? As she stood, Y/n inhaled sharply, her heart thumping erratically when nothing fruitful would come. That was when the idea came to her; just say to him what she would to Keanu; should be easy right?

Right.

“Daniel,” with no time to waste, Y/n dove right in, trying to make the whole thing more realistic, “I don’t think that I could have gotten luckier; you chose me, and for that I will always be honored. I never thought that it was possible for me to love a man the way I love you, but still everyday,” it was much harder than she initially thought it would be; singing praises of love and adoration to a man she barely felt for. As she continued, with Keanu in her head, wishing that it was him there instead, Y/n’s eyes stung and her throat burnt, the emotion too heavy to be quelled. Maybe they’d think it was happy tears. Maybe she’d break down right there and prove them wrong. “Everyday, my love for you grows. You are better, so much better, so much more, than anything I could ever have dreamed to have in a husband.” Y/n’s tongue longed to say Keanu’s name, but she held it, even as the tears now flowed freely and she sniffled noisily, “Daniel,” Y/n breathed deeply, “Thank you for being everything a girl could want, and if I love you the way I do now, I can’t wait to see how much I’ll love you tomorrow, and everyday after that.”

An attendant took the mic and as Y/n sat again, their guests cheered. “See,” Heather leaned in, close to Y/n’s ear, “That wasn’t so hard now wasn’t it?” Swallowing thickly as warm tears tangled in her lashes, blurring her sight, Y/n kept her head trained forward, barely able to nod at her mother’s venomous words. 

The pictures had already started to make its rounds on the internet and Keanu needed a glass of whiskey just to look at them. Y/n, his Y/n, in the arms of another, who surely couldn’t love her the way he did. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was wrong, but Keanu just wished that she could leave Daniel and be with him; forgo her responsibilities and they could be together, without having to hide. It should have been him after all; he should be the one at her side in those pictures, who she was going to marry. But Keanu couldn’t ask Y/n to do that, he could never hurt her by requesting that she leave everything she knew just for him. 

If only love could be enough.

He hadn’t realized that his eyes had grown tear filled until a knocking at the door had him hastily swiping at them as he stood. Tossing his phone to the sofa, Keanu padded barefoot towards the door, gasping quietly at the sight on the other side of it.

“Hi,” she sobbed, one word enough to tell him how broken she felt, her lips quivering and tears falling freely. A cab was just pulling off the curb, signaling that more than likely, no one knew where she was, at least for now. “I hate this,” Y/n’s voice broke and she ran her hands anxiously through her freed hair. Still dressed for the engagement party, though with slightly smudged make-up, red eyes and stained cheeks. Still Keanu thought that, without fail, Y/n was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever been lucky enough to lay eyes on, “I hate this so much.”

“It's okay,” he gritted his teeth, trying to suppress his own tears as he pulled Y/n against his chest, kissing her hair as he rubbed her back soothingly, “It’s gonna be okay sweetheart.”

“No, it's not,” she blubbered, hugging him back and burying her face into his old t-shirt, finding comfort in his smell and the way his heartbeat felt against her cheek, “I….I just…” Nothing would come, what could she say that he didn’t already know? 

Keanu thought if his soul could be shredded to pieces, then that was what it would feel like. His heart was in his throat and all he wanted, right then and there, was to make everything better for Y/n; to dry her tears and ensure that no ill fate ever befell her. He wanted to be her knight in shining armor and the person she could rest her head next to at night. But he couldn’t be that, he might never be that. Feeling completely helpless to her plight, Keanu led them inside, stopping short in the hallway, “I’m so sorry,” a lone tear escaped his whiskey orb, so much more still kept painfully at bay. Keanu felt like he’d failed her somehow; Y/n had meant more to him than most and he couldn’t protect her from what she’d been running from.

Y/n didn’t pull away, but her tears slowed, the security that he offered enough to make her feel better, even for a bit, “It’s not your fault,” her reassurance was meek, but he knew that it wasn’t how she meant it.

“What can I do?” Keanu pulled her away for a minute, surveying her disheveled form, brushing some hair from her face, only to gently cup her cheek.

Y/n’s fingers slid from his forearms, gliding over his broad shoulders as they made their way to cup his neck, “Make me forget,” her whispered words drew him in as Y/n stepped closer, “Just for a little bit, I want to forget. I just want it to be us, please.” Arching upwards, Y/n initiated their kiss, her lips soft and tasting of champagne and something tart, like lemon. 

Keanu easily took the control she offered him, letting her bloom against him as she responded to his touch; nothing too much just yet, merely steadying hands on her hips. Tilting her head, Y/n slowly rounded her arms around his neck, standing on the toes of her strappy gold heels as she melted into his broad chest. Her tears went dry and no more came as they continued, his tongue gently passing over hers, one of his hands slowly descending to her lower back. “Are you sure?” He broke their kiss momentarily. Y/n had initiated it, but she was in a less than favorable metal state and Keanu didn’t want to take advantage of her.  

“Yeah, please,” she whimpered, trying to close the space between them again. 

“Okay,” Keanu breathed, catching Y/n’s swollen lips once again, that time in a slower, more sensual kiss. He poured his breath, his love and maybe even part of his soul into her, already establishing that the night would go by slowly. The world would humor them; stop its chaotic spin for a bit and they’d be privileged with a handful of sacred moments, so they could indulge each other in what was not meant to be. 

That night, as Keanu hoisted Y/n up into his arms, the lengthy cut in her dress allowing for her legs to easily tangle around his waist, he thought that Y/n didn’t deserve anything less than being appreciated and attended to, slowly and completely. She deserved his all, and Keanu was going to give it to her.

Upstairs, in his bedroom, where pale yellowish light from the harvest washed the hardwood in a somber pool at their feet, his steady palms guided Y/n so her back would be to him and after a lingered moment, he swept her tresses away from the back of her neck, pressing a warm, chaste, whiskey flavored kiss there, breathing her intoxicating scent as his stocky fingers led the discreet zipper of her dress down her spine.

The shimmery fabric settled around her feet, and her strapless bra followed by her lacy panties were next. Naked with the exception of her heeled sandals, Keanu urged Y/n to sit on his made bed, immediately getting on his knees after he made short work of stripping himself, taking a gentle hold of one ankle. A calloused, yet calmingly familiar touch rose goosebumps on Y/n’s skin as Keanu slowly worked on her shoes, dumping it to the side afterwards. 

It was a daunting task, but as his lips sought upwards, from the inner side of her leg, Y/n and Keanu maintained eye contact in the near darkness. Arguably, they were past the point of needing light to maintain their connection, it was always there, it would always be; Keanu was sure that he could find Y/n, even if the world had been plunged into pitch darkness. His open-mouthed, leisurely endearments sent shivers up her spine and electrified her nerves. 

Keanu’s touch, the way his body knew Y/n’s was incomparable; he was permanently in tune with what she needed, always eager to put her needs first. In turn, her breaths were shallow and audible, each hitch easily made out in the near silence and her gasps giving him life. 

With one hand supporting his weight, Keanu occupied the other by letting it roam appreciatively up her body. His longing erection brushed her silky heat when he finally ducked to reach her neck, the scent of her perfume still clung to her skin, drawing him in, the ends of his overgrown mane tickling her cheek. 

"Keanu," Y/n mewled, her warm breath gently blowing her hair, her hands sliding up his bare back, his skin surprisingly cool beneath her tender touch.

"What do you want, baby?" He worked his way down again, his lips circling her breast, his tongue swirling around her hardened nipple, eliciting a needy moan from her ajar lips. With his free hand, Keanu favored her other boob, his gropes gently and slow. 

The ball of Y/n's heels skimmed the back of his calves before tangling with his thighs, urging his hips towards hers, “You,” she breathed sharply, “All I want is you.”

All she ever wanted was Keanu.

If after the worst of the worst, he was all that was left, her world would still be complete. 

Complying after a minute, Keanu eased into her inch by inch, raising himself slightly off Y/n so he could admire the way her jaw hung slack. Finally nestled deep inside the tightness of her drenched heat, Keanu let a throaty groan leave his lips, low and appreciative. Y/n always fit so well with him; like two puzzle pieces that only made sense if they were put together.  

After a prolonged moment of just absorbing the feeling of Y/n enveloping him, Keanu, at an unhurried pace, started rolling his hips, his pace easy for her to keep up with. Clinging to him, with her arms reaching around for his shoulders, Y/n’s erratic breathing matched his and occasionally, her hips would buck to meet his. Their shadows danced on the dimmed walls, and they were so intertwined, it was hard to tell their bodies apart.

Progressively, the heat around them built, swirling with the heavy cloud of emotion, bringing with it, a light sheen to their skin. Time seemed to pass in slow motion, and something about those cherished moments felt vastly different from the ordinary; as if there was more depth to the act, like that much love had never been shared between them. Neither of Y/n nor Keanu wanted it to end, though, eventually, Y/n was gasping raggedly as she came around him, her clenching walls milking his member. Keanu wasn’t too far off, spilling his hot seed deep inside her, his rigid thrusts punctuated by low grunts and their tangled praises.  

Untangling was slow and graciously incomplete; Keanu rolled over to his side, one of Y/n’s legs still hooked over his waist. The natural light wasn’t enough to define their features, but still, Y/n thought that she could see Keanu clearly as she cupped the side of his face, the warm center of her palm over his ear; some of his hair laced with her her fingers while the pad of her thumb skimmed the laugh lines near his eyes; the evidence of a live well lived. Their noses barely touched and any closer might constitute their lashes tangling. 

“I don’t ever want to be without you,” her whispered admission accompanied glassy eyes and the knowledge that her desires may never be more than fiction.

Still, Keanu was clung to hope that they’d been in the best of graces and things could look up. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see her hurt again. “You will never be without me,” he reassured, bringing her face towards his, so he could seal his promise with a kiss. Keanu hated knowing that his assurances might one day be revealed to be empty, they couldn’t go on like that forever, but a voice in his head, so soft it was almost silent, seemed persistent in the belief that somehow, he would in fact, maintain a part of her life. 

Maybe it was right and they just didn’t know it; maybe he’d always be with her.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @a-really-bi-girl​  @baphometwolf666 @sdaff2   @green-forest-dreams @weird-civilian @magnificentclodpiebanana

[bluerosesburnblue]

Nothing upsets me more than a legitimately good story being ruined by “extra” content. I’ve already complained at length about Pokemon Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon’s story changes over the original games so now it’s The World Ends With You: Final Remix’s “A New Day’s” turn because CHRIST

I’m writing this as I come across points while watching a playthrough, so:

God, Coco is the single most insufferable being. “totez hilar” just dated this content so baaaad, and I’d even say it was dated language when Final Remix came out. No other character abuses modern slang as their entire character. Like, slang is used but not as a substitute for personality. Beat speaks in a very casual, urban style but it never ends up being detrimental to his character as a bit of a punk with a “perfect little sister” that he wasn’t as naturally smart as, so he just gave up on trying and ended up being a bit of an aggressive slacker. Heck, he tones it down a bit for emotional moments, too. Coco, though, comes across like her ultra-modern “cutesy” text message slang is supposed to be her personality, and even when it’s revealed that she’s the villain of the episode you just can’t take her seriously through the “like, ohmigosh, I can’t believe you’re ruining my plaaaaaans” bullshit. What does she have going for her if you rewrite all of her lines without that speaking style? She’s just a generic manipulative brat

Frankly I also just disagree with the entire premise of A New Day and the plot threads it sets up for a potential sequel, i.e. “having Neku and Beat run through a game again as a trap to get Neku into yet another game in a possible sequel.” TWEWY is a complete experience and had been for at least a decade. Literally every character had a complete arc. The worldbuilding was rich enough that they had more than enough to come up with a sequel set in the same world, but in an entirely different town with an entirely new cast and, heck, even entirely new rules for the Game that would’ve expanded upon the world of the games without taking away from the characters whose time in the Underground was already done

But, noooooooo, we’ve gotta bring Neku back. Can’t have a game without Neku they literally SAY THAT (”The Game, like, literally can’t go on without Neku.”). And let’s bring Minamimoto back, too, as a good guy! The fans loved him! This doesn’t come across as pandering at all!

Just... you have the girl with the red headphones designed! Make the sequel set in Shinjuku with her as the main character! (Hell, I don’t think I would have even minded Minamimoto coming back for that because there was enough leeway in the base TWEWY for him to have survived his encounter with Josh, just leave Neku out of it). This is the most infuriating part because it actually takes away from Neku’s story. The entire GAME was a test of character to see if even the worst, most closed off person could learn empathy and respect and Neku DID. And in return, that sparked a change in Josh. His story is done. Coco using Neku, though, has nothing to do with him as a character and everything to do with him being the face of the game and it shows

And why the hell is Neku so trusting of Coco anyway? I get that he opened up over the course of TWEWY, that was kind of the point. But you come back to life, everything’s fine, and then suddenly you’re in a death game again and so is one of your best friends, like, he should be WAY more concerned and suspicious. But one little Reaper gives him the sad eyes and he just caves instantly like “fine, come along.” Even when Neku grew to like some of the Reapers, like Uzuki and Kariya, it was still far more of a rival-like respect. He knew damn well that it was their job to see him gone and while he accepted their help when they gave it and helped them when their lives were in danger (possibly, up to player choice), they weren’t buddy-buddy with each other, knowing that as soon as the immediate danger to them had passed they’d be on opposite sides again. And these are the Reapers he’s closest to, even at the end of the game. And then all of a sudden Coco goes “but I’m a wittle wost baby weaper” and Neku’s response is, “well, shit, welcome to the team.” WHAT

I hate using the term “Mary Sue” but Coco is absolutely a Mary Sue in its original meaning. The plot bends over backwards to accommodate her at the expense of the main characters’ personalities or reason, all while giving her a clothing style incongruous with everyone else’s meant to stand out and make her look special and not having her face any repercussions for her actions (so far which is, again, another issue with the very premise of A New Day since that’s exactly how things will end off if TWEWY doesn’t get a sequel, the possibility of which is not a guarantee AT ALL)

Shiki and Rhyme start saying blatantly false things about themselves and handwaving it away with “ohhh, that must have been our new Entry Fee! Just the exact same ones as the first time again!” and only BEAT is suspicious and NEITHER OF THEM are suspicious of Coco, the only non-generic Reaper they’ve met so far. Christ, I appreciate Beat being attentive with matters of his sister because that’s in-character but NEKU was always the more paranoid AND observant one yet all he thinks about is “gee, I’m sure having weird visions today, huh?”

And then Coco starts BLATANTLY gaslighting them about Kariya and Uzuki’s personalities and they’re STILL not suspicious of her like ughhhhhhhhhhh. Nekuuuuuuu you LIVED THROUGH JOSH WEEK 2, you have BEEN IN A SITUATION where the mastermind partnered up with you to divert your suspicion and keep an eye on you how are you less suspicious of this brat than Beat is???

And why are none of the characters bringing up the fact that you have to be DEAD to be in the Game??? You all spent three weeks of hell to claw your way back to life, how are you not more upset about what seems like you all dying again, basically immediately after you just got brought back? And I know the Shiki and Rhyme in A New Day are illusions, but Neku and Beat AREN’T. Nobody even comments on the implication that they’re dead again and what that means!

I can’t believe they made new expressions for the fake Josh’s changed personality but still refuse to make anything for Shiki’s true appearance

Hell, there’s enough lore with Josh that you could make an entire prequel about him becoming the Composer instead of this mess and, you know, EXPAND on someone’s character and what led to him being so disillusioned with Shibuya as the Composer instead of employing the Happy Ending Rewrite on Neku and then gutting his personality to make Coco the focus. I’d LOVE a Josh prequel with competent writing. Kingdom Hearts made the Xehanort prequel and hooked me in a single chapter with expanded worldbuilding and interesting ties with Xehanort’s character to friends that humanize him, do the same for Yoshiya “Joshua” Kiryu!

Pfffffff hire me and let me make the dream TWEWY trilogy: Joshua prequel > TWEWY sans A New Day > sequel set in Shinjuku starring Red Headphones Girl with Occasional Josh and Hanekoma Interaction

It is so unnecessarily cruel to make Beat relive Rhyme’s erasure and subject Neku to believing that Shiki was erased as well, and yet they do NOTHING with it except have it be cheap tension for five minutes. The characters basically say “wow, I’m so sad!” and then IMMEDIATELY move on to “OMG is Neku seeing the fuuuuuture?” Your LITTLE SISTER and FIRST REAL FRIEND IN YEARS just seemingly died permanently! When Rhyme was erased the first time it took Neku one and a half in-game days to even talk about it because he was so upset, and from then on he was focused on avenging her/bringing her back. Shiki was his entry fee in Week 2 and that made him hyper paranoid the whole time! WHY ARE WE JUST GLOSSING OVER THIS especially since they made SUCH a big deal about how they just finally started believing that the fakes were real (after a whole TWO conversations)

And then at the end they say that they’re inside Coco’s Noise that is SO BIG that it has an ALTERNATE DIMENSION INSIDE IT and Hanekoma’s like “I’ve never met a Reaper POWERFUL enough to make a Noise like this. Wow, Coco, you’re so POWERFUL that even I, an Angel, am impressed!” This. Coming from the guy who specifically chose Minamimoto as his failsafe to kill the Composer should the Game go wrong because a Taboo Minamimoto, heavily refined using forbidden methods, would be strong enough to defeat THE COMPOSER. And he’s now going on about how Coco’s the strongest Reaper ever, basically admitting that she’s probably stronger than the Composer of Shibuya. SURE. BECAUSE COCO WASN’T BAD ENOUGH ALREADY SHE HAS TO BE THE STRONGEST REAPER EVER, TOO

And then it just ends with Josh and Hanekoma exposition dumping about how Shinjuku got erased as Noise entered the RG (WHAT?), Neku’s visions were probably caused by the red headphones girl who’s super special (who???), and Coco’s just so special powerful (why...), but it’s not their problem so fuck it. Oh, and also Josh doesn’t care about Neku anymore, despite that being the whole point of TWEWY. Yeah, the guy who flew off all upset when Hanekoma asked him if he wanted to hang out with his friends at the end of the game. Uh huh. Even if he’s lying, why even put that THERE instead of saving it for the sequel?

And then Coco just... revives Minamimoto. Even though, oh, right, the Taboo Refinery stuff was so precise that the only reason Minamimoto came back the first time was because Hanekoma, THE PRODUCER AND AN ANGEL, set it up for him. But I guess Coco’s just soooooo super powerful and knows FORBIDDEN HIGHER PLANE KNOWLEDGE and can just do whateeeeeever she wants. Not like Hanekoma was so paranoid about someone finding out what he did for Minamimoto that he went into hiding, certain that he’d be reported to the higher Angels and destroyed

A New Day is so painfully shallow from a writing experience. It’s a poor continuation off of the solid, complete TWEWY story experience that just doesn’t have a handle on Neku’s character, turning him into this bland vision machine with no emotional connection to anyone. The way that it expands the worldbuilding with “Inversion” does one thing that I HATE, which is taking an emotion-and-character driven story and turning it into a generic “end of the world” scenario, “raising the stakes” in a way that divorces it from what made it memorable in the first place. If Kitaniji directly effecting the RG during the main Game’s plot was the point where he crossed the line in-universe, then that loses its special nature and impact if you then go “oh, btw, Noise can destroy the RG city if you let them”

And then there’s the absolute black hole of a character that is Coco Atarashi. She wasn’t designed to fit into the world of the game, she was designed to stand out. On its own that’s not a bad thing, especially given the themes of the game that revolve around owning your true self and baring it to the world, but then you combine it with no personality beyond being a manipulative brat obsessed with the events of TWEWY, extremely lazy text message slang dressing up her dialogue to make it stand out, the way that Neku and Beat’s personalities change to accommodate her presence just to shoehorn her in and then have a cheap “omg she was bad” twist, and then dumping powers on par with Josh and Hanekoma on her and there is NO saving her character

The only good part of A New Day is “Wake Up.” And even then, there’s better TWEWY songs, I just like the vaguely Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance vibes it has in parts

[cancerbiophd]

hello! i was looking through your career stories tag and was inspired to ask for some advice of my own. lately i've been feeling very lost in undergrad. in high school, i was super successful, had goals and stuck to them, and had a path in mind. however, i ended up revising that plan a million times, and now i feel super behind in comparison to my peers. i feel like i lack a ton of skills and that i'm not where i should be (1/2)

(2/2) do you have any advice? and do you/your followers have any stories about people who were successful, got stuck in a rut, but found their way back? i keep reading stories about people who didn’t do well in school then found a successful career, but i never hear about people who were successful in school, got lost, then recovered, and it makes me wonder if there’s hope for me

Hi anon! (Thanks for sending in that 2nd part again after tumblr ate it the first time round)

I fee like I took a similar path to you, and before I launch into my story, here’s my advice on some things you can try:

Break the bad habit of comparing oneself to others. We are all unique, with unique pasts, presents, and futures. To compare two people’s achievements or lack of achievements is unfair. That’s giving an experimental treatment to a sick person and another to someone already healthy and then comparing the results directly to each other. Not a good scientific study huh. Well, we should look at our lives like that too. It’ll take time and practice and a lot of active thinking, but let’s all try our hardest not to compare ourselves to others. We are all carving out our own paths. 

Talk to others with experience and get their insight. Talk to your professors, your counselors, your parents, your parents’ friends, and even older students (like me!). Ask them for advice. Ask them what opportunities you have. Ask them what career choices one can make with your interests and goals. Basically, broaden your knowledge of what’s out there in the world so you can find a niche to fit in. I really wish I had done this because I was very myopic in that “interest in biomedicine” = “clinical doctor or bust!”. I didn’t know that I could go to grad school to study cancer research and then go work in a biotech company (my current path and goal). 

Once you find a career path that interests you, try to experience what “a day in the life of” is like. Because something that sounds great on paper may not be a good fit in person, and vice versa. Options for this include: volunteering, internships, entry-level jobs, shadowing, informational interviews (where you talk to someone in the field in a casual setting and ask them what their job is like), and well-rounded research. Doing things like working in the field or even shadowing also gives you the benefit of learning transferrable skills that could help you on your next step. And that brings me to:

Take a gap year (or a few) if you feel like you need it, especially if you need to gain more experience in a certain field. It’s also a great way to give your body and mind a well-deserved break after decades of school! I took a gap year (well, 2.5 years) to work and get lab experience and it was the best. 

Do not give yourself a timeline. This sounds… counter-intuitive, but what I mean is: do not set goals like “dream job at age 30!!” “a house at age 31!!” because they may be a) unrealistic, and b) could set us up for disappointment. Also, we need to realize that we don’t know what the future will bring, and that it’s also ok to take one’s time. We’re all gonna live until we’re 70-80 anyway right? So let’s just take things one step at a time. We’ll set goals and work towards them, yes, but let’s not set deadlines for ourselves. We’ve had enough deadlines in school already! 

Don’t give up. Things will be ok. I know it’s not.. super helpful for me to say this, but it’s a real point to make. No matter what happens, keep trying. We can’t reach the light at the end of the tunnel if we stop walking forward, yeah? 

I hope those points are helpful. If you’d like more detail, or have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me!

Alright, now to my story, because I feel like I may have gone through the same thing you’re going through right now, so I want to let you know that times may get tough like it did for me, but if you keep going and trying, things will eventually be ok:

Just like you, I was pretty darn successful in high school, also did well in college (like good grades, had goals and met them, etc). I always knew my path was going to lead me somewhere amazing, because that’s how I was brought up my entire life. Then I got stuck in a rut because my original plan A (med school) turned out to not be right for me, and then plan B also turned out not right either (pharmacy school), and then I got straight out rejected from plan C (physician assistant school). I even had to change my major 3 times because of my change of plans (well, one change was because the US recession hit and my college had to cut my original program ugh), so I had to really cram my classes into the summer. I graduated college with a degree that wasn’t going to get me where I wanted to (B.S. in Microbiology, and jobs were still hard to find because of the recession, and basically nowhere to go. I had no job and had no idea what to do (or what I really wanted, really). So I moved back home with a feeling of emptiness that no end in sight. 

My plan was basically to find a job that would open doors for me in the biomedical field. I even got my pharmacy tech license, and I was applying to receptionist positions at clinics. It got to a point where I was so desperate I interviewed to be someone’s personal assistant and they were like “you are way too qualified for this I can’t hire you”. 

And I was so confused as to how I could’ve ended up on the wrong path. I mean, I knew what I did wrong (I didn’t do those point of advice I gave earlier because I didn’t know I had to do them). But I didn’t know how it went so wrong. How did I go from straight A/B’s and proactive student leader in a bunch of clubs to unemployed with no concrete plan in sight? I was bright. I was a hard worker. A fast learner. I knew I could be good at anything I did. This rut I was in wasn’t really supposed to happen. And all the while my friends were going to grad/med school or starting successful careers–a fact my narcissistic and emotionally abusive mother would remind me of every. waking. moment. She would scream at me every day that I was an embarrassment, a disappointment, a “poor investment”, etc. The look of pure hatred she would give me–I have never seen that on another person’s face ever. I couldn’t even see my friends because she essentially put me on house arrest as “punishment”. 

It really was absolute hell. I was cleaning some old storage boxes recently and I found my old diary from that time, and inside was a note. It was a note of despair and resentment and an ending that may have happened… I don’t remember how I got the strength to keep going, but I think I had conjured up the slightest sliver of hope that night, put down my pen, closed the journal, and went to bed. 

So, I kept at it. I studied for the GRE, I looked up grad school programs, and I kept applying to jobs in the biomedical field. I got picked up by a temp agency that was hiring out contract workers to local science companies, and even interviewed for a few available positions. Things were looking a bit better. 

Then I saw a job ad on craigslist looking for a research tech at a lab at my old college. I applied, interviewed, and was turned down. Bummer. Then my mother (in a rare moment of helpfulness) asked a friend of a friend who was a PI in a research institute in Florida if they wanted a totally free unpaid intern. I had a skype interview and they accepted, and I was getting ready to move halfway across the country to be a volunteer with a Bachelor’s degree when I got an email from another new PI at my old college. She had gotten my application from the first PI who I had interviewed with and wanted to meet to see if I could be her research tech. And then literally a week before I was supposed to move to Florida that PI told me she wanted to hire me. Oh thank god. I had graduated in May, and got hired at this position in October. Even though it was only 5 months, it felt like forever for me to finally find my way out of the dark cave and back into the light. 

This PI did research on cancer biomarkers. Working in her lab was one of the best things to ever happen to me: I got the lab experience I was missing, I found a love for cancer research in particular, I applied for (and got into) grad school to study Cancer Biology, and I met a coworker who eventually became my husband (and you betcha we invited the PI to our wedding and asked her to give a speech lol). 

I graduate (hopefully) next semester with my PhD in Cancer Biology, and my husband and I plan on moving to Seattle (a biotech hub) afterwards. I plan on getting a post-doc position at the Fred Hutch Cancer Center, then a scientist position at a local biotech company, and then see where that takes me. Life is good now. Things really did turn out ok. 

I’m so glad I never gave up. 

And I hope you won’t give up either, anon. I pray you don’t have to go through anything as tough but! Yes there’s still hope for you! There is always hope

[djinmer4]

Scarborough Fair (Noir AU)

“Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?” Stefan made no effort to keep his voice down, but the noise of the party easily drowned him out.

“I don’t understand your question,” Jimaine carefully brushed a few straggling hairs back into her coiffure.  “My fiancee is handsome, charming, polite and generous.  Plus, Kurt’s our foster brother, we’ve known him for years.  What more could I want?”

“I guess if you’re happy, that’s enough.”  Jimaine held out her arm, but her brother waved her away.  “Go and wow your fiance.  This party’s for you after all.”

She flashed a quick smile and strode into the festivities.  Kurt’s grin dutifully widened at her entrance, and he offered his arm to squire her around.  Stefan remained in the shadows, offering brief smiles and nods at any guests who noticed him but refraining from participating.

As he observed, he found himself being less and less happy about the upcoming nuptials.  On the surface, it was a fairytale marriage, with Jimaine as the golden bride and Kurt as the handsome groom.  And yet . . .

It wasn’t that Kurt was ignoring Jimaine.  He had greeted her effusively when she had entered, catered to her every voiced desire, remained well within view during the whole party.  But Stefan noticed, aside from the first moment, he never really looked at Jimaine.  He answered when she called for him, but he never initiated a conversation with her.  And while in view, he was almost never in arms reach of her.  If his sister wanted something, she had to walk over to him, never the other way around.

“Don’t you want a husband who will actually see you rather than take you for granted?” he whispered to himself.

~~~~~~~

He crouched on a hillside, burying himself in the low shrub.  It was nothing like Bavaria or Winzeldorf or Schwarzwald or any other place he’d ever been hunting.  There were no trees, what little cover existed came from the shadows of hills and rocks and low scrub.  But that meant the same thing for his opponents.  On the battlefield, it was only a question of whose eyes were sharper, whose reflexes were faster.  And so far, he’d been better than all his challengers.

Through the scope, he watched a sparrow land and peck at the frozen soil.  He followed it into the brush, searching for the telltale glint of metal.  He snuggled deeper into the camouflage blanket, letting it obscure the shadow of his body and hold back the biting cold.  He’s the only one on watch this hour, the rest of the squad in exhausted, fitful slumber will eventually end at an officer’s command or the whistle of incoming bombs with the dawn.

Not seeing any threats, he takes a few minutes to pull out his holdout.  He cleans the pistol but refrains from polishing it.  Too many fellow soldiers have lost their lives from either lack of maintenance or from bright flashes of metal in the dark.  An explosion of red breaks the early morning gloom and the silence and he abandons his post, shouting directions to the other waking soldiers.  More explosions wrack the night and they retreat through the trenches, the sand and mud and worse sucking the warmth from their legs with every step.  A man ahead of him stumbles and falls, and he grabs him by the leather harness on his back.  When a break occurs in the artillery fire, he realizes that the man he was dragging was already dead.

~~~~~~~

It’s ridiculously easy to gain access to the cabaret.  Despite being frequented by Weimar officials, it’s not one of the higher quality ones.  The bouncer doesn’t bother to even ask for ID, nodding him through with barely a glance at the crow’s-feet around his eyes and his thinning hair.  He drops his trench coat at the unmanned coat check but keeps his scarf and hat.  Inside, no one even glances as he takes a seat at the corner of the bar.  Two drinks later, and he leaves his seat for the bathroom.

It’s the work of moments to flip his suit jacket inside out, the white lining hastily limned in black thread to imitate the waiters’ uniforms.  His accessories go under the jacket and the blue mask goes his face, hiding the gas scars.  Again, he’s thankful for the target’s poor choice of venue.  The masks are as gimmicky as they come but all the servers are wearing similar ones and with the dim lighting it could be anyone under the fantastical facade.

It’s another hour before the target shows up and Kurt’s reminded why he hates jobs like these.  The music isn’t bad and he’s spent longer on his feet assisting senior surgeons, but suppressing the urge to beat all the rude fools to death is always a chore.  But finally, the officer comes in with about half a dozen friends, including a few working girls.  The loose way they hang over each other could be an issue, but he’s brought enough strychnine for all.

One of the longer, and frankly more interesting acts comes on stage and he makes his move.  About five minutes in, he goes around the table, refilling drinks and dropping quick dissolve capsules in the champagne.  The officer and his friends are too riveted to consume their drinks, and he drops off their meals just as the lights come back on.  Another fifteen minutes of serving, he slips back into the bathroom changing back into his suit.  A couple more drinks at the bar, and then he leaves, just as the first member of the party collapsed.

~~~~~~~

“Jimaine, grab his things.”  Stefan lifted the shorter man by the collar of his shirt and threw him out of the wagon.  “We’ve reached Winzeldorf, as promised.  Don’t let me catch you hanging around here again.”

Kurt brushed himself off, then caught the untidy parcels his foster sister tossed him.  “I’ll pray that God will soften your heart and you will repent this, brother.”

“Pray for yourself, murderer!”  With that, he turned and ordered the caravan back on the road.  Behind them, Kurt slipped on his boots and jacket, gathered his possessions and slipped off into the night.

~~~~~~~

“There’s been extensive degloving across the entire back.”  Dr. Wagner let the orderly clear a path through the busy hallways only pausing when they reached the entrance of the theatre.

“Is there any intact skin?”  He stripped off the scarf he was wearing and the broader man flinched and averted his eyes.

“I-I don’t think so.  The only place that wasn’t shredded was the front of his torso and using skin from there would be like robbing Peter to pay Paul.”  The orderly shot the surgeon a confused look as he reached into a wardrobe in his office.  “Is that a butcher’s apron?”

“I can never seem to remember to change my clothes before going home.  I thought maybe trying to protect my clothes during surgery might at least make me look less suspicious.”  The older man quickly tied the apron strings behind him.  “Hmm, there doesn’t seem to be much to work with.  What about the limbs?”

“Dr. Connors isn’t too optimistic about the results.  He said there’s going to be at least one amputation, maybe multiple ones, although he’s holding off until you’ve patched the torso.”

“In that case, I’ll take the skin from the limbs and try to patch over the torso with that.”

“Uh, are you sure that’s wise, doctor?”

He reached back into the ward to pull out the black leather bag containing his personal equipment.  “The man’s as good as dead anyway, so this is the perfect time to experiment.  If he lives, all well and good, if he dies, that’s what everyone was expecting anyway.  Really, there’s nothing to lose in this case.”  He replaced his scarf with a new surgical mask and also put on a new pair of thin rubber gloves.  “Now go start the carbolic spray.”

~~~~~~~

“Do you ever think about leaving the city?”

Kitty had spent the past 2 hours staring at her typewriter and welcomed the interruption.  “Leaving New York?  Sometimes, I think it would be nice to live in Boston or DC for a change but I’m pretty happy here.  Definitely not going back to Chicago though.  Too close to my parents.”

“Not what I meant.  I mean something like going out to New Jersey.  Or Ridgewood or Greenville.”

Her lips twisted down.  “Ugh, no!  I hate the idea of living in the countryside, I’d be so bored.  Why do you ask?”

He shrugged and then waved a hand in the air, dismissing the subject.  “I’ve been a little homesick.  Missing the woods of Winzeldorf.”

Kitty lay her hands on the keys, but didn’t apply any pressure to them.  “I’m telling you right now, if you’re planning that we get married and move out to some pastoral green acres, I’m giving back the ring immediately.”

His laugh turned into a snort turned into a brief coughing fit.  Once he got his breath back (after Kitty fetched him a drink of water) he demurred.  “Not right now, certainly!  If nothing else, I’d make less moving out of New York.  But maybe in a couple of decades, after I retire, would you consider it?”

The frown melted off her face and was replaced by contemplation.  “I’ve got to admit, it still doesn’t sound good to me but who knows how I’ll feel in twenty years.  Ask me then.”

~~~~~~~~

“There’s another one gone.  That’s the third one this year.” Dr. Connors was back from probation (or maybe more accurately stated, he was back on probation).

“Who’s gone?”

“Another one of the nurses.  Bertha, I think her name was.  They all swear they’re single when they first start, but six months later they’ve gotten engaged to some patient and they’re gone.”

Dr. Wagner looked up from the desk where he was writing case notes.  “That’s no good.  We can’t stop them from falling in love, but we’re short-handed.  Can’t they at least have the decency to tell us when they’re getting engaged so that we have a few months' notice to hire a replacement and train her?”

“Even if the girls are too silly to think of that, you’d think the patients would.  But it’s out the door and straight to the chapel.”  Connors took a sip of his coffee and grimaced.  “Still, it gives men like you a much-needed advantage.”

Blue eyes narrowed above his mask.  “What does that mean?”

“Well, I suppose the fact most of your patients are under ether makes it difficult for you to impress them.  Still, I’m sure that a few of the lady patients have thought even you to be as hotsy-totsy as Valentino.  Or maybe you’ve had a few shebas in the linen closet?  Either way, it’d be a sockdollanger for you.”

Kurt took several minutes to untangle the slang that Connors was using.  Once he did, he straightened up like a poker had been rammed up his backside.  “I’m married, thank you very much.”

The other man simply grinned at him.  “Is she from Canada?”

The German refused to dignify that with an answer, instead just dumping the remaining paperwork on the other doctor’s desk and walking out.

~~~~~~~

“Dad sent you over a Christmas gift.”

Kurt looked up from the journal he was reading.  “Your parents don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Yeah, I know.  But I think they’ve finally resigned themselves that I’m not going to move back to Chicago and marry a nice Jewish doctor the way they want me to, so they’re at least acknowledging your existence now.”

“Does it help at all that at least I am a doctor?  Even if I’m not very nice. ”  He carefully unwrapped the fire-engine red wrapping paid and set it aside.  Inside the matte velvet box was a pocket watch with the Star of David emblazoned on it. “What’s this?”

“It’s the bare minimum.  I think they’re lying to their friends, telling them the reason I’m not coming back is that I really did marry a nice Jewish boy from Queens.  If they really accepted you, Mom probably would have pushed that we do another wedding ceremony in Chicago.  I suppose I should just be grateful she didn’t sit shiva for me.”  Kitty slid down the side of the armchair to curl into his side.  “That’s a Pryde family heirloom.  It’s been passed down from father to son for about five generations now, but well . . . Dad always said he’d give it to the guy I’d marry.  So there’s that.”

He set the journal on the coffee table and pulled her into his lap.  “I suppose it would be rather difficult for you to run away now.  No one’s going to believe you if you say I’m a bigamist or cheating on you.”  He slid his hand around her side, down over her ribs.  “And I’m definitely not impotent.”  

She giggled at the tickling sensation.  “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in exchanging you for a new model, even if your hair is vanishing faster than a dewdropper’s scratch on a bangtail.”

A brief pause.  “I have no idea what you just said.”

She chortled again, leaning up to kiss the crow’s-feet around his eyes.  “It’s not important.  Just be glad at least one of my parents has accepted our marriage.  Albeit dragging his feet all the way.”

He thumbed the lid of the pocket watch, tracing the Star with his nail.  “Still, it takes a lot of bravery to step out of your comfort zone and let your daughter make her own decisions on these things.  Such courage should be rewarded.  Do you think he would take it amiss if I returned the gesture?”

She squirmed around until she was lying crosswise in his lap, the cold point of her nose touching bare skin just above the collar of his shirt.  “I think that would be a bad idea.  He’s gone out of his way to follow your culture this time, now it’s your turn to show that you respect his traditions.”

Kurt sighed, the sound slightly muffled by the mask.  “I can’t exactly go back in time and ask his permission to marry you again.  And Hannukah’s already passed . . .”

He felt more than saw her shrug.  “Dunno.  But Dad always did want a boy . . . “

“Well, I’ve never had a father.  Maybe we can bond over that.”

[shireness-says]

Swan’s Seven (2/?)

Summary: After two years behind bars, Emma’s out, and she’s got a plan in mind. Now to put together the perfect team… Let’s stage an art heist. (A CS Ocean’s 8 AU) ~3.9K. Rated T for language. Chapter 1.  Also on AO3.

~~~~~

A/N: And we’re back! With more players, more action, and more razzing on David. It’s a national sport after all. A certain someone shows up this chapter too...

Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, @snidgetsafan. This doesn’t happen without you, babe. 

Tags: @optomisticgirl, @spartanguard, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @thisonesatellite, @thejollyroger-writer, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @kmomof4, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @winterbaby89, @scientificapricot. Shoot me a message if you want to be added/taken off the list.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Regina has always been good at finding the exact right person for any given job, and it seems that hasn’t changed in the two years that Emma has been away. She somehow knows everybody who’s anybody in this business, like the criminal version of a recruiter or HR lady. She’d probably hate being called that, but it’s an apt comparison. 

Only days after Emma divulges her plan to Regina, she’s presented with a short stack of manila folders - Regina’s top choices for their needs.

“I think you’ll be pleased,” she says as Emma flips through the top folder. It’s just a cursory glance, really; Emma trusts Regina’s judgement implicitly after all their years as a pair. “They’re the best I could find.”

“I’m sure they are,” Emma replies nonchalantly. “You’ve got them scheduled to come in for an interview or whatever?”

“Later today,” Regina agrees, before fixing Emma with a stern look. “You’re going to play nice, right? We need these people, I can’t have you getting all demanding or treating them like they’re idiots.”

“Ok, first of all, it’s an interview, there’s going to be questions so I can’t really help the demanding thing. Second of all, why the hell am I the one we’re worried about getting uppity? That’s kind of your thing, scaring people off with a condescending sniff.” Emma really hadn’t meant to sound quite so demanding with that list, but that’s the result anyways. Maybe Regina has a point - though Emma still thinks her partner is the one who needs the warning to “play nice”. Whatever that means. Fuck it all, they’re career conpersons, the nice line has already kind of been blown to smithereens. 

Regardless, the warning proves unnecessary, since Emma can tell within minutes that Regina’s first candidate is exactly who they’ve been looking for.

“Emma, this is Ruby Lucas. Ruby, Emma Swan.” With the way Regina makes introductions, you’d think they were having some fancy corporate business meeting, not planning an art heist above a nightclub. Emma has the strongest urge to start offering business cards. “Ruby’s a safecracker - the best on the east coast.”

“Well…” Ruby drawls, her red-painted lips twisting into something wry and just shy of wolfish. Emma thinks it kind of suits the brunette, especially paired with her casual sprawl across one of Regina’s stiff backed chairs. 

As much as Emma is amused, however, Regina is not. That eye roll could probably be seen from space. “Fine. The best on the east coast who hasn’t decided to retire to some disgusting fairytale in backwoods Maine like a goddamn schmuck. Better? Satisfied?”

“Better. Satisfied is a whole other thing, sweetcheeks,” Ruby winks salaciously. Not that there seems to be any heat behind it; if Emma had to guess, it’s just a flirtatious habit. There are worse habits to have, really. Her flirting accomplished, Ruby focuses her attention on Emma. “So. I hear you have a plan.”

“I do. Did Regina brief you on the specifics?”

Ruby nods. “Brantley 3900, she said. Digital fingerprint system on top of a trio of combo locks, plus an acid failsafe. I could use some info about the big picture plan, though.”

“We’ll get there,” Emma promises. Ruby isn’t at all what she would have expected of their safecracker in her short skirt and high heels and bright red hair streaks - especially when Emma’s used to dealing with her brother for this kind of thing - but she likes the saucy brunette. That flirtatious energy could really come in handy, if they play their cards right. “You think you can break it?”

“No problem,” Ruby replies with her bubbling confidence. “We’ll just need those prints, and the rest is all tumblers. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Emma looks to Regina, who inclines her head in a subtle nod. Excellent; they’re on the same page, then. “You’re hired.”

Their next candidate - a computer whiz and hacker - might as well be Ruby’s polar opposite. Elsa Frost shows up in a neat skirt suit and heels that only emphasize her pale skin and white blonde hair, dressed for all appearances like she’s interviewing at a law firm. For god’s sake, she even brings resumes in a file folder, the two pages paper clipped for maximum convenience. You can’t make this shit up. Emma wonders idly if their prospective keyboard artist has any idea what she’s walked into.

Surprisingly, reading the resume provided is illuminating. Ms. Frost certainly does know what she’s here for (“And this is an art theft, yes?”), but she cut her teeth, so to speak, in providing network security for major banks. Really, there’s no one better to hack past security systems than someone who made a career trying to prevent exactly that. 

Emma still has questions, however. Namely: “How exactly did you end up on the less legal side of things?” It’s more than a valid question, considering the formal interview attire. It seems that Elsa doesn’t know how these things usually play out. 

“I have a sister,” Elsa explains. “She’s the only family I have in the world, and she just got engaged. To a Central Park carriage driver. Wants the whole big to-do, which of course is very expensive. You know, the big white dress and the massive cake and the three courses and the specialty cocktail. So I’ve been looking into… alternative income streams.”

“Admirable,” Regina drawls, clearly unimpressed. “But there are plenty of other ways to make money. Legal ones. I’m sure you could make a very generous living just off of consulting with your skills. Why this?”

Elsa flushes, the rush of blood especially evident beneath her pale skin. Still, Regina and Emma wait in silence. They don’t need someone on their team who’s a risk, and that kind of motive makes any con with common sense worry their contact will go to the police when all is said and done. So they’ll wait, as long as it takes Elsa to come up with a real answer or prove herself too much of a risk to gamble on.

She cracks, of course. Facing down two such intimidating stares, anyone would. “Maybe I was bored,” Elsa finally says. Her chin lifts with the words like she’s trying to muster all her dignity - not that it works. “I’d done security for Wall Street firms and major banks for years. Eventually, you tire of trying to close all the loopholes that hackers are testing. Your entire career and your entire life becomes reactionary. Working on the other side… I get to exercise a little more creativity and problem solving and thinking outside the box, which is why I fell in love with programming in the first place.”

Emma makes eye contact with Regina and shrugs. “Works for me.”

Elsa stares back, disbelieving. “That’s it? That’s what you needed to hear?”

“We get boredom,” Emma explains.

“And we absolutely understand thinking the criminal side is a little more fun,” Regina adds. Like she knows anything about fun. 

(Ok, that’s not fully true; Emma half remembers a few tequila nights. Regina gets rowdy when she has enough to drink.)

“Where we’re going with this,” Emma finishes, “is that you’re in if you want it. I trust that after all that banking experience, you can work your way around their firewalls and whatnot?”

“Sure can. Check the bar’s accounts if you don’t believe me, I took the liberty of going ahead and transferring my $100 consultation fee.”

Well, that’s one way to prove your point.

“So that’s two down. Who’s next?” Emma asks after Elsa and her business suit depart.

Regina smirks. “Field trip.”

The field trip is to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where they watch a young woman paint a replica of one of the portraits - a particularly unflattering source work featuring a distinctly masculine-looking woman. It makes the reproduction their prospective partner is working on all the more impressive, that she’s able to replicate that particular variety of unfortunate realism. 

“Belle French,” Regina explains under her breath. “She should be a rising young artist on the New York scene after graduating from Columbia, but tastes these days run a little more abstract and her style probably leans closest to the romantic or rococo. Instead, she’s stuck teaching intro level courses at a local community college.”

“What a waste.”

“Indeed. She’s absolutely broke and absolutely talented, and absolutely desperate. Teaching shitty freshmen who can’t draw a straight line and want to argue about their grades constantly does things to a person, or so I’d imagine. If we play our cards right, make the right approach…”

“She could be our girl.” Our forger, Emma means, but that’s a stupid thing to say out loud in an art museum.

“She could.”

Emma observes for just a moment longer before nodding decisively and making her move. She’s the one who’s got tact, after all; as good as Regina is about searching people out, she’s a little too blunt for this kind of negotiation.

“That looks beautiful,” Emma comments when she’s standing just behind Belle’s shoulder. “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you!” Where Elsa blushes, Belle beams. Here, it’s a sign of someone who’s been denied warranted validation for too long, and who’s looking to gobble it up even from unusual sources. It’s a good sign for their purpose; even if they’re cons, Emma and Regina can provide the validation she seems to be craving. 

“Is this just a hobby, or do you do this for a living?” Emma knows the answer, of course, but that might as well be rule number one of running a con: never show all your cards.

Belle makes a little wistful, frustrated noise. “Oh, I wish. This is just my free time, unfortunately. Hopefully it will help me hone my skills.”

“I don’t know. From where I’m standing, you look pretty skilled already. If this is your dream, I don’t think the talent issue is what’s keeping you from reaching it.”

“Yes, well, my dreams also feature millions of dollars and a functional love life. Some things, unfortunately, just aren’t going to happen, and I’m afraid this might be one of them.”

“I think I can help with some of that, at least,” Emma smiles. “I’d love to take you to coffee, maybe discuss it a little.”

“Like a job? Painting?” Belle’s skepticism is plastered all over her face. Not that Emma can blame her; it probably sounds just a little too good to be true.

“Something like that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I absolutely am, if you’re interested in learning more.”

It’s a close thing, Emma thinks, but Belle does show up in the back corner of Regina’s favorite little Italian bakery an hour later.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t exactly a legal opportunity that you want to talk about?” Belle asks right away. Still, she seems utterly unfazed by the idea of it as she calmly sips a cappuccino. 

“Probably because it isn’t,” Emma replies, equally calm.

“Hypothetically,” Regina makes sure to add. Maybe that’s what she should have been in another life - a lawyer for the mob. Not that it matters, especially since Emma changes her mind every other time Regina opens her mouth. 

“Hypothetically,” Emma makes sure to emphasize, “we’re planning a job that would require someone with top notch artistic skills.”

“And you think that someone is me.”

“Hypothetically, yes,” Regina agrees. 

“But why me?” Belle argues. “I’m barely good enough to teach a bunch of college students. What makes you think that I’m skilled enough for whatever you have in mind - hypothetically have in mind?”

“Your style, ironically the very thing that’s really kept you from breaking into the art world, is exactly what we need for our purposes.” Somehow, Regina manages to make it all sound completely reasonable, though Emma knows it’s not. They’re talking about forgery and theft, for Christ’s sake. 

“And if I say no?”

“Then this conversation never happened,” Emma replies easily. “Look, my partner may be a little over-enthusiastic with the hypotheticallys, but it means we haven’t actually been planning anything in a way that you could take to the police. Look, I’ll be level with you - we can probably find another artist if need be. They’re out there. But they’re not you, Ms. French, and when we say we want the best, that’s you. For better or worse. The payout - sorry, the hypothetical payout would be more than enough to set you up. No more teaching brats with an attitude. We can help your originals find a way to market - legitimate or otherwise. There’s a lot of doors you can open with the kind of money we’re talking about.”

“Think about it and let us know.” Regina slides a card across the table - blank except for a starkly printed phone number. A burner, obviously, and perfect for what they have in mind. “You’re just the woman we need, and I think we’re just the opportunity you need.”

Emma and Regina barely make it to the end of the next block before the phone buzzes. 

I’m in.

Two pieces to go.

It’s a relatively short cab ride to Battery Park, where Regina says they’ll find their next crew member. “This is the pickpocket?” Emma asks as they stroll past a particularly fragrant food cart. Ah, New York. 

“This is the pickpocket,” Regina echoes back. “Tink Green. Young, but talented. She could easily break into larger jobs if she had the inclination, though I’m not sure that she does.”

“Tink? Seriously?”

“I know.” Regina rolls her eyes. “But yes, seriously. No idea what her real name is, she refuses to tell. If you have to have a stupid nickname, though, might as well make it a bad fairy fingers pun.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” A crowd is gathered up ahead along the railings bordering the river. “So where is she?”

“You see the blonde weaving through the crowd?” Regina asks, nodding in a general direction. “With the bun and the scarf and the headphones?”

“Yeah?” The woman in question looks utterly distracted - just another twenty-something absorbed in her phone.

“Watch.”

It looks like any other passing interaction - a distracted pedestrian not watching where they’re going, despite passerbys’ attempts to step around her. However, Emma’s a thief. She can spot the way that when the blonde bumps into an unsuspecting businessman, only the hand holding her phone comes up to brace on his torso, while the other steals into his coat pocket.

“Smooth,” she mutters. “I wonder if that’s all she’s got.”

Regina smiles  a wicked, amused smile. “Let’s go find out, shall we?”

“Just make sure you don’t have anything valuable in your pockets.”

With the leisurely pace Tink saunters along at - just the right speed to feign distraction and avoid any serious attention - it’s easy for Emma and Regina to catch up along either side. “Impressive show,” Emma comments casually.

She’ll give the pickpocket this - she’s a good faker. Emma only sees the momentary flash of recognition tinged with panic because she’s looking for it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replies. Tink’s accent is unusual; Australian, maybe, or possibly New Zealander. 

“That lift,” Emma continues. “Very well done. Practically seamless.”

“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you’ve got the wrong person. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Tink’s eyes flit briefly to either side, looking for an easy escape like any good con.

“Oh relax,” Regina cuts in with that exasperated drawl she’s perfected. “We’re not here to bust you. We’ve actually got a job. Think of this as your interview.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Regina Mills. This is my partner, Emma Swan.” Tink straightens, almost imperceptibly. “Ah, so you know who we are.”

“Run with a certain crowd, and it’d be hard not to.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Emma replies. “Like Regina said, we’ve got a job. Need someone with light fingers. A little teamwork and big payout.”

“How big?”

“Big enough not to say in such a public place.” Regina produces another card. “If you’d like to know more, come by the Poison Apple the day after tomorrow, around 2pm. We’ll share all the details with the team then. That is, if you’re interested.”

“I might be,” Tink hazards.

“Anything holding you back?” Emma asks. It’s obvious Tink is the woman for the job - talented and just charming enough for a little undercover prep work if need be. If there’s anything they can say to get her on board right now, Emma will gladly do it.

“Who’s the mark?”

Not the question she’d anticipated, but Emma can roll with it. “Zelena West.”

Unexpectedly, the other blonde bursts into a peal of laughter. “That piece of work?”

“The very same,” Regina replies with a wry smile.

“In that case, count me in. About time that bitch got what’s coming to her.”

Who knew it could be so easy - uniting a group of people around hatred of one disgustingly rich woman?

——— 

The last thing Emma expects to see when she and Regina finally make it back to the loft about the nightclub is a man already waiting outside the door, rocking back and forth on his heels with both hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. As Regina wrangles the lock, the man springs to attention. “Ms. Mills?”

“Yes, yes, come in.” She’s obviously expecting him, as she holds the door wide open for the man to walk through, though her face never changes from mild irritation. Typical Regina. Though Emma can’t imagine why she’s letting him in to start with. 

“This one of your vendors, Regina?” she asks, closing the door. The man has come to stand in the middle of the room, looking around like he’s waiting for something.

Regina scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Emma, the bar’s vendors come on Monday. This is our fence.”

Emma isn’t entirely sure what face she’s making, but it’s certainly not good. “Him?” she asks needlessly, earning herself an eye roll.

“No, the other man standing in the corner. Yes, him. This is Killian Jones.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma,” he says - warmly enough, she’ll grant - extending a hand to shake. 

Unfortunately for him, Emma’s not in a mood for warmly enough. “We are not on a first name basis,” she all but snaps before quickly pivoting to address Regina. “Can I talk with you for a moment?”

“What is your problem, Emma?” Regina hisses once they’re a reasonable distance away. Not that they’ve found true privacy; that doesn’t exactly exist in the loft space.

“He’s a he!” she hisses back.

“How didn’t you know that? I gave you the file.”

“It’s not like I read in-depth or anything! You always give me a little rundown anyways. I saw the name and figured they were a her, not a… him.” The last word is practically spat out like a curse. Absolutely melodramatic, not that Emma cares.

“And is that a problem? It’s not like you told me you wanted only women.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I wouldn’t have to when everyone else you offered up was of the female persuasion. Isn’t there anyone else?”

“No. You want the best, I find you the best. That man can find or sell practically anything, like a modern day pirate. Or something less stupid.”

Emma ignores Regina’s denial. “What about Jasmine? She’s great, she’d be good for this.”

Regina shakes her head. “She and Al just had a baby, so she’s out of the game for a while.”

“I guess I can get that. You send something?”

“Gift cards for take out and a card signed with both our names.”

“Oh, thanks for that. What about Kathryn?”

“Went to prison last year. And you hate her anyways after she flirted with your brother.”

“It’s more because she’s a prissy little rich girl who got into the black market because she thought it’d be fun.”

“No, it’s because she was hitting on David. I very narrowly escaped attending a debutante ball, if you remember, so I’m technically one of those prissy little rich girls,” Regina points out.

“Yeah, but I like you,” Emma sighs. “Bet her daddy bribed someone to get her sentence reduced.”

“Oh, undoubtedly. Still doesn’t change the fact that she’s unavailable.”

“What about —” Emma starts, only to be interrupted.

“Look, I’ll go find you someone else if you insist, someone female,” Regina argues, “but they’re not going to be as good as him. There’s no one else out there who’s got the amount of connections in the black market art world that he does, and he’s got strong footholds in advanced tech to boot. Just what we need. So are you going to quit your tantrum and suck it up, or am I going to have to put out feelers again?” She waits for an answer with arms crossed - never an inviting look.

“Fine,” Emma finally grumbles. “But he’s got a lot of ground to make up.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you won’t let him forget it,” Regina mutters back under her breath.

Jones does them all the favor of pretending he didn’t hear any of that conversation when the women rejoin him. “Swan, is it?” he asks, extending that hand again. Today, Emma really feels like the last human on Earth who doesn’t feel a pressing need to follow that particular societal convention.

“That’s me,” Emma replies with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. It’s not much. “Regina says you’re the best around.”

“In more ways than one,” he winks. Mistake.

“Let’s get something straight right now: this flirting, or whatever you’re hoping to pull off? It’s not going to work on me,” Emma replies with venom hiding just behind her voice. “We’re here to stage a heist, and all I care about are results. This is about the job, and if you can’t keep it professional, then you can walk back out the door right now and we’ll find someone else.” 

They stare at each other for a moment, Emma hoping to establish her dominance right there and then, before Jones finally cracks a closed-mouthed smile and nods. “Won’t be a problem, Swan. I’m at your disposal.”

“Good. We’ll see you in two days for a full overview of the plan and to get this show on the road.”

“As you wish,” he declares, sketching a short bow. After a last nod to Regina, he leaves again, now a problem for another day.

“I still don’t like him,” Emma declares to Regina. The other woman is smiling like the cat who got the canary, and Emma hates it.

“You don’t have to,” the other woman replies, “but he’s going to make this work. You’d be an idiot to fight against that.”

“All I’m saying is he better be as good as you promise.” There’s something about Killian Jones that makes her nervous, something she can’t quite put her finger on. Not his skills; Emma trusts Regina on that front. Something about his attitude, or his confidence. That’s not important right now, though, when there’s plans to make and details to nail down. 

Killian Jones may be an unknown variable, but he’s one she can’t deny they need - and for the moment, that’s more important than any of her concerns. 

[timtamtalestakestwo]

Life before lockdown

Since the last blog post I wrote we seem to have escaped from one disaster and entered an even bigger one! Whilst before we were locked inside due to thick bushfire smoke, we now have clearer air than ever but the slight inconvenience of a massive pandemic..

I had a short but lovely trip back to England in February, mainly to interview for a place on the Internal Medicine Training programme. It had been a tough decision, as we both love our life together out in Australia and have had such fantastic experiences and adventures here. I think both of us would love to stay a bit longer, however with my formal training on hold whilst here and a huge difficulty in transferring said training between the countries if I were to start training here, we essentially needed to make a decision sooner rather than later.

It was brilliant to see family and friends again after so long, although certainly took a little adjusting to the cold temperatures and busy roads again having not driven on anything bigger than a largely empty dual carriageway in 30+ degree heat for 2 years!

I later found out I was successful in my application and got my first-choice job so will be spending the next 3 years in Winchester and Southampton from August! This certainly made the whole ‘moving home’ plan seem more real. Although I am fairly certain our reaction for the first few weeks/months of arriving home will be ‘what have we done?!?’ I know for me, the value of having the support of family and friends close-by going forward will hopefully outweigh the bad weather, overpopulation, and extortionate house prices!

On my arrival back to Australia, the virus was still only in its early stages and we certainly hadn’t predicted at that point the imminent deterioration in circumstances across the world; so little so that we booked everything for a trip of a lifetime for our final 2 months here – a month travelling around New Zealand and a month driving from Darwin to Perth. As you can imagine, that dream has since all been taken away rather rapidly.

Image: Celebrating my birthday with a dip in the Bogey Hole!

In early March, we welcomed Tom’s family back to Australia for another visit! The main wildlife left on the list to see after the last visit was a wombat, a platypus, a Tasmanian devil, and quolls..and so the quest began…

As I was working for their first week here, I stayed home whilst they went on an adventure up to the Bunya Mountains in Queensland. By the sounds of things, they brought the rain with them from England and weren’t blessed with the best weather. However, they enjoyed a relaxing few days away from civilization, followed by a few days at Rainbow Beach featuring a day 4WDing on Fraser Island!

We celebrated Tom’s birthday when they got back to Newcastle and were due to go to the Grand Prix in Melbourne, but unfortunately that was the start of the closure of mass gatherings and so it was understandably cancelled. However, these were the days before social distancing was even in our vocabulary, so we got our flights to Melbourne anyway, spending the day exploring the city and botanical gardens! It was only a brief visit as we had a morning flight to Hobart the following morning…

We rented 2 campervans for the trip and headed straight out of Hobart up to the Friendly Beaches in Freycinet National Park for our first night. The night sky was one of the clearest I’ve ever seen so we spent the evening stargazing on the beach and tried our hand at some long exposure star shots! We also had our first encounter with a wombat (which we almost missed in the pitch black – I only noticed it because I was wondering why something I thought was a boulder was grunting!)

Our route the next day took us up the East Coast further, via Douglas Apsley National Park where we hiked to a very refreshing (read freezing!) waterhole for a dip! We spent the night up in the beautiful Bay of Fires, in another beach-side campsite. The sound of the waves crashing on the beach next to the campervan all night was certainly something special!

Image: Apsley River Waterhole

Images: Bay of Fires

We had a long drive the next day to Cradle Mountain National Park, a place I had missed on my first visit and had been dreaming of visiting since! After covering the very wind-y Elephant Pass and across to Cataract Gorge in Launceston to stop for a stretch of the legs, we eventually reached Cradle Mountain campsite before dark. It was certainly the most equipped campsite we’d had so far – our first shower of the trip was certainly welcomed!

After dark, we piled into one van to drive into the park for a wildlife watch, spotting multiple wombats, possums, wallabies and pademelons!

The next day was forecast for rain from late morning so we got up early and Ellie and I caught the first shuttle bus into the park. The hike to the summit was tempting but the forecast suggested that wasn’t the safest choice, so Ellie and I decided to hike to Marion’s Lookout, one of the stops en route to the summit. We’d been advised against the steep rock scramble route up by the slightly over-cautious park rangers, due to the risk of slippery conditions. Instead we took a beautiful longer route up via Wombat Pools and Crater Lake. The place was breathtaking. Jagged peaks, and mirrored glacial lakes, it was everything I had hoped for! We were thankful for the early start as it felt like we had the Park to ourselves and didn’t see a soul for the route up ….until we arrived at Marion’s Lookout and were surprised to see Tom and Gill already there! Having arrived on the next shuttle bus, they had braved the short steep climb (which apparently was no way near as treacherous as we’d been warned) and beat us to it! We were all suitably red-faced and in need of a chocolate break!

I could have stayed in Cradle Mountain all week but there was so much of beautiful Tasmania left to see so we packed up to start the drive up to Stanley on the North West coast. After an hour or so standing on the ‘penguin viewing platform’ at dusk, we finally caught a glimmer of white coming in from the sea – our first fairy penguin sighting! The extra special moment was hearing cheeping noises behind us, turning, and finding two hungry little baby penguins stood at the entrance of their burrows, waiting for their mum to come back with some food!

We spent Gill’s birthday driving around the Tarkine wilderness in the North West. On our first stop at Bluff lighthouse, I managed to get a leech bite on my ankle but unfortunately didn’t notice until about an hour or two later when it was the size of a slug and had injected copious amounts of anticoagulant into me! Ellie saved the day by being the only one of us composed enough to safely take it off! But the bite mark then didn’t stop bleeding for most of the rest of the day…!

That night was the long-awaited platypus sighting, just outside Burnie. It didn’t seem like the most promising spot being very close to an industrial area, and although there were plenty of pademelons about I wasn’t hopeful about seeing a platypus and regrettably retired early to the van. Not long afterwards, Tom snr saw an unmistakable outline through a moonlit reflection on the water, passing under the bridge!

Another long drive the next day brought us over the Central Plateau conservation area and down to Mount Field National Park, not far from Hobart. We stayed in the overflow campsite there, and were surrounded by hundreds of pademelons, lots of very tame and enormous possums and even saw glow-worms on an evening stroll down to Russell Falls!

It was from here that things started to get slightly more stressful….

Whilst we were away, not only had Australia closed its borders, but so had some states, including Tasmania… so thus started a saga of flights repeatedly being cancelled by the airline, and rebooked, and cancelled again, and rebooked, and cancelled again…you get the idea. This of itself was merely a slight inconvenience if it wasn’t for the fact that not only had these cancellations meant Tom’s family missed their flight back to London with Etihad, Etihad (and most other airlines) had now grounded all international flights!

We extended our campervan hire and camped out near Port Arthur in Eaglehawk Neck peninsula in the South East, only an hour or so from the airport if we needed to make a mad dash for it at any point! It was certainly a beautiful place to be stranded and managed to make the most of it with some hikes and a break-in to the now closed Port Arthur Historic site!

After the third or fourth cancellation we decided it best to just go to the airport and wait for them to put us on a flight. It turned out that of the few flights that had been flying, only 50% of the passengers had shown up, so we ended up with a spot on the first one out. If only we’d known that sooner we wouldn’t have been in the difficult position of trying to get Tom’s family repatriated along with thousands of other tourists!

Alas, they were in luck as a relative works for BA, so after multiple international phone calls, she managed to get them safely on a flight home much sooner than many other people!

Despite the mildly stressful end, it was a fantastic trip that we were lucky to even do, as had it been a week later, Tom’s family would have never even made it into Australia!

 It was back to work for the both of us – the Emergency Department has been eerily quiet as there has not been the influx of COVID19 patients in Australia we were anticipating and many fewer people are attending unnecessarily (and more worryingly people who need to attend but aren’t…)

Tom and I are now just finishing up at work having already handed in our notices prior to knowing the world was about to turn apocalyptic, so we are now trying to sort out how we will spend the next few months without any options to travel like we had initially planned! We’re at least making the most of the fact scuba diving is on the government-approved list of daily exercise...!

We hope you are all staying safe and staying well in this rather mad time and we can’t wait to see you on the other side! xxx

[mrdanielbond]

Bond’s New Flatmate (Chpt. 3)

“Were you born in a barn?”

[James Bond X Reader X Q]

[Word count; 2800 (ish)]

[Prompt; James is beginning to get fed up of how the reader is unable to notice him in all aspects, even if he lets his pride in the way and refuses to show any form of interest in her. Finally tying to aim for a change, James has a surprise in store for the reader only to come across a few ‘minor’ complications when putting it into action…]

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

[A/N: I tried to make this as entertaining as possible! So I hope you enjoy the world’s husband Q being up to his shenanigans once again!]

“I heard Madeleine is coming to visit soon. How’s that going?” Q said, walking over to his laptop and began typing, while Bond stood at his desk with his hands in his pockets.

“That’s one of the reasons I’m here. She’s visiting on Monday-”

“That’s great!”

Bond shook his head immediately, “I need you to get her off my back.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m still trying to avoid her at the moment. I’m occupied with...other things at the moment.”

“Do enlighten me. Why are you avoiding her again?”

“She’s a bit more clingy than I thought she would be.”

“Really how so?” He said with a sense of sarcasm in his tone.

“This isn’t funny. Think of a child with their favourite blanket, one that they cannot let go of at all and refuse to leave. That describes what I am trying to avoid at the moment.”

“Ouch. Those blankets do tend to be quite old and rugged.” He pulled a face at Bond, trying his best not to chuckle as the man glared at him. “Can you please get her off my back?”

“I’ll see what I can do...Not like I have a choice anyway.” He mumbled.

Bond began to smile when Q raised the question, “What is it you’re occupying yourself with? M hasn’t left you any assignments has he?”

“No.” Bond lengthened the word, watching Q finally figure out what he was talking about.

“Does this have anything to do with Y/N by any chance?”

“Yes.”

Q huffed in a ridiculed manner and shook his head, “I’m telling you. There’s something strange going on with Y/N. I fear the next time I see her she’ll probably blow up my flat again and I can’t keep paying for insurance, they’ll think I’m intentionally doing it to get money out of it. All because I said a few things.”

“Are you sure this is Y/N we’re talking about? Burning a flat out of revenge for a little light hearted flirting? Now that doesn’t sound like her.” He said sarcastically, sipping his tea. Q smiled to himself as he continued typing on his laptop, he was working in his workshop as usual when James decided to pay his colleague a visit, after all they finally had a mutual connection and that was you. So Q was no longer avoidable in this situation. For the past couple of weeks, you had been popping in and out of the flat, returning late and hadn’t spoken a word to James or held a conversation. You were just too busy to see him now you had gotten a job elsewhere at a place you hadn’t even told James either as part of a private hire investigative/forensic scientist. You had slightly been off also ever since James had a conversation with you about Q, in which you clearly stated to him that you weren’t really looking to reminisce past memories, to which Bond responded with a laugh.

“I’m being serious. Another question, is she usually so - antisocial? She’s been ignoring me the past week. Probably plotting something...”

“Yep. That is Y/N we are talking about.” He chuckled. “My dear wife does have a bad habit of completely ignoring everyone.”

James felt a sudden distaste at the tip of his tongue once he heard the term ‘wife.’ He suddenly would feel this itchy feeling creeping in that made his skin crawl and heart thump. It wasn’t pleasant.

“Anyway why are you so bent on gaining Y/N’s attention? Is there something I don’t know about? Remember James, she’s still married.”

“Oh please.” James hissed defensively, “I don’t do married women.”

“Wasn’t Lucia married when you went to bed with her?”

“Widowed.”

“What about that other one from Croatia?”

“Recently divorced. Come on Q, you should’ve known that.” He tutted.

“Harriet, that minister’s daughter from Sweden?”

“Ok, maybe that’s the only one you have on me but her husband was elsewhere. It’s also part of the job, incase you weren’t aware. Other than that I don’t do married women! Especially not Y/N whom I have no interest in.”

“You don’t find her attractive whatsoever?”

“Nope.”

“Harsh. Not even a little bit? Nothing there for her? Even if she worr a full face of makeup, prepared to go on a date?” Q smirked proudly, sipping his tea once again.

���Pft. Of course I don’t. No. That’s wrong!….God no….No.” James laughed quickly, interrupting Q. He tried his best not to get flustered in front of Q, especially over someone he hadn’t even considered having feelings for...possibly. It all made sense to him at that moment. The way he felt neglected suddenly when you ignored him, busy with work. He felt a sense of emptiness, unable to hear your laughter at something ridiculous on the television, in which he would insult, or laugh at serious situations he had tried to talk about, he couldn’t help but crack a smile at those moments. Even tell you off when you stole one of his shirts, sometimes to wear, most of the time to use for some practical experiment of some sort, meaning he’d have to reprimand you for it. It wasn’t like you two had an argument, you both were just too busy to pay attention to each other...And it was only a fortnight! Actually, the main problem was that you were too busy stressing yourself with work that you hardly even saw James, even when you returned to the flat late you were straight off to sleep and gone by the next morning. “I’m concerned for her as a friend and a flatmate...and for my safety. Not used to the silent treatment, it’s very concerning.”

“Alright fine.” Q sighed, “I know something that’ll get her attention. But you have to do this perfectly otherwise she’ll walk in and completely ignore what’s in front of her.”

“I’m listening.”

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

The weekend had finally arrived and you were able to take a well deserved rest. You spent most of the morning asleep and noticed James wasn’t in the flat so you decided to accept a friend’s invite and head off out with them for the day.

James managed to return to his flat by 6.00 pm. It was already pretty dark outside, considering winter in Britain was just - brilliant. He managed to go shopping for different ingredients and had really taken Q’s advice to heart. What was his advice? To make you a home cooked meal. Bond’s idea was to spoil you with a home cooked meal and somehow manage to use his wits to steer you into the direction of beginning to like him, which seemed ridiculous to him at first but there was something about you that he just couldn’t clear from his mind. In the space of a little over an hour, James managed to cook you your favourite dish (choose name) and set the table with a bottle of wine and light the candle in front of it. He sat two plates neatly with the cutlery and had almost finished cooking when he heard the door open.

You began to smile , surprised at the smile of your favourite dish coming from inside the dish as you noticed James was dressed impressively in casual clothing. He was in a navy blue t shirt with a pair of black jeans and trainers, after all he overheard you talking to a friend about how you were into guys who dressed in casual clothing quite a lot of the time, yet could suit up when they needed to.

“What’s this?” You asked, amazed by the sight.

“I figured you’ve been busy with work and deserve a home cooked meal to relieve some of that stress and we eat out a lot so tonight I’m just throwing something together.”

“That’s so sweet, I can’t believe you’d do this and I’m surprised you knew my favourite dish.”

“Of course I’d know. I do listen when you talk to me. You do know that right?”

You smiled as James poured you a glass of wine. “Loving the casual look as well, it suits you.” You winked.

Just before you could step any further towards you looked back for a moment smiling before collecting the glass.

“Ever heard the expression were you born in a barn?” James laughed, shaking his head.

“Yes of course I have and I find that very rude considering I can’t close the door on a guest.” James began sipping his drink when he saw Q walk through the door and instantly he spat it out, glaring at him.

“I guess she wasn’t born on a barn at all. Thank you for keeping the door slightly ajar for me Y/N, I do appreciate it. There was a quick phone call I had to make. Oh what a beautiful scene, I’m not intruding on anything am I?” He looked directly at James, smiling to find the man growling under his breath.

“The little shit…” James thought, giving a fake smile.

“I’m really sorry I should’ve known you were going to make dinner. If I had known-” You apologised looking at James.

“Don’t worry. Dinner for two can turn to three...right?”

“Excellent.” Q responded as you told him to make himself comfortable inside while you headed off with James into the kitchen.

“I really hope you don’t mind the fact I invited Q over.” You said, reaching for another glass. James grabbed another plate and looked at you smiling, “Of course I don’t. Why would I be bothered?”

“Thank you, for all of this.” You placed your hand on his chest for a moment, smiling before you left to go and join Q inside the front room.

Dinner was not awkward at all...There wasn’t any tension...Q definitely wasn’t scared of what James was going to do with a knife and fork in his hand. You looked on at the two, it was a tense atmosphere and you were starting to enjoy yourself ever so slightly as you poured the two more wine, especially for James who you could have heard growling at Q if you were sat where he was.

“So, Bond, you never told me you were a cook.” Q said to break the ice, smiling as he gulped on his wine.

“I don’t cook often because I’m never in my flat, remember?” Bond said, trying his best not to make it sound so sharp and harsh. “Then again we all have tricks up our sleeves don’t we?”

“Unfortunately some of those tricks usually don’t go accordingly to plan do they?” Q chuckled.

You were seriously enjoying this. You watched the two trade sly remarks to one another and didn’t even need to speak to keep the conversation going. That was until things started to get slightly out of hand and you could tell Q was beginning to get a little frightened in James’ presence.

“Alright children, that’s enough. You argue like my colleagues at work and I need a break from that.” You tutted, “James, you know this reminds me of that time we went to the pizza parlour and you made the restaurant manager feel uncomfortable because asked if the food was okay.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” James smiled at Q’s direction. You could sense Bond was all for making Q jealous of your friendship, except it had the opposite effect. You knew Q best, he was a lot smarter than that.

“Y/N, you remember back in Oxford, how we were a part of the unstoppable trio. You me and Jonathan in the chemistry lab working on quite the discovery.”

“Oh yes, in fact I do remember. We were all pretty spontaneous back then.” You cautiously said, looking over at James as the man raised his eyebrows at the word ‘spontaneous.’

“Spontaneous you were indeed.” Q winked, “Once Jonathan, who seemed to be the third wheel at the time, had left us I remembered when we both thought it would be a good idea to make sparks fly inside that lab...and not only from the -”

“Out of all people to talk about to, you decide to talk to my flatmate? Can we not, while we’re having dinner?” You interrupted quickly before he could go into detail, getting all flustered, that was when your phone began to ring. “Oh, I’ve got to pick up this call, must be work. I’ll be right back.” You walked off to take the phone as James turned to Q.

“You came up with this whole idea just so you could ruin it!” Bond hissed.

“What makes you think that?”

“Don’t try that crap with me Q. You better tell me the rest of this story.” He said, glaring at Q,who began to smile.

“Like I said, Y/N is very spontaneous, she could be adventurous if she wanted to. I thought she was quite the casual woman at first, her idea of a romantic night was simply just to have a night of binge watching television, playing video games and having snacks but she’s more open to anything really. It takes a lot to keep up with someone like her, good thing I was always able to in those encounters. In that chemistry lab was the first of many times. Not only in there though, that would be very wrong. The way she took those bottles and…” Q started into his glass, smirking and took a quick gulp before he looked back up at James, “Actually maybe that is a story for another day.” He smiled, noticing how interested James was.

“You a little shit.”

“Now, that is a rude thing to say to your guest. Why would you call me that? Were you thinking of having a romantic evening in with my wife?”

“Your wife. Wife. It is a funny word isn’t it? Usually ot associates those who I don’t know - live together, spend time together, not four years apart and later for the husband to discover she is sharing a flat with another man.”

“Hey, I never said our marriage was perfect.”

“You hadn’t seen her for four years! That’s hardly a marriage at all if you ask me. She’s practically single.”

“I trust you enough not to try anything on with dear Y/N.”

“What if I don’t have to try anything? What if she’s already onto me?” James winked.

“Now that would be absurd considering you don’t do married women, remember? And besides, Y/N is a lot smarter than you think she is. She wouldn’t come onto someone she isn’t attracted to even if it was a matter of life and death.” He chuckled.

As the tension started to build you joined the two once again, noticing James holding his fork upwards with the bottle of wine completely finished. “Why hello Y/N. We were just discussing how Bond’s girlfriend Madeleine will be visiting soon from Austria. On Monday.”

James’ eyes bulged immediately, his breathing began to run sharp, he was infuriated.

“I knew it! I knew they were dating! But girlfriend, sounds very serious. If she ever visits - actually go to a hotel room I think that would preferable. Congratulations.”

Q could sense James’ blood boiling as he clutched the glass of wine in his hand.

“Well, lovely dinner James. It was absolutely delicious, I should start visiting more often.” Q said, quickly wiping his mouth with the handkerchief.

“Please don’t.” He said sternly, low enough so both of you couldn’t hear him.

“Y/N, it’s been a pleasure spending all day with you, hopefully we can do it again sometime.”

“Yeah, alright, if you say so.” He leaned in and gave a quick kiss to your cheek then winked at James and left quickly before James could attempt to throw the fork at him.

“He did not need to do that.” You muttered under your breath rolling your eyes before you turned to James, “What was that all about? He left real quick.” You said curiously.

“I don’t know. M called him for something.”

“At this time of the night?”

James nodded as he cleared the plates.

“You said something to him didn’t you?”

“He just came up with some terrible ideas that’s all.” Bond chuckled as you rolled your eyes.

[echoes-of-realities]

be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 2/25

* * *

[Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Previous Chapter] // [Next Chapter]

Chapter Summary: Rachel still doesn’t quite understand what an understudy is despite the fact that she is one; Brittany gets caught blushing far more often than she’s used to.

Chapter 2: there were sweeties and chocolates and toys and lights

//

The matinee goes far more smoothly than most people thought it would, but it’s not that it went well that surprises Brittany, it’s that people thought it wouldn’t. She doesn’t really make it a habit to listen when the company gossips, partly because there’s always a lot of mean gossip surrounding her and Mike and Tina since they’re all principals and Brittany just prefers to ignore it all, and partly because Mercedes always keeps her well informed anyways, usually when she’s changing Brittany into her costume or helping with her hair and makeup and Brittany has no choice but to listen. She when she hears people marvelling at how well Santana’s handled the show, despite the fact that she was literally only hired two days ago, she’s more than a little surprised that people are surprised.

She’s comfortably close with Quinn and Artie, not enough that they seek each other’s company outside of the show, but enough that she doesn’t mind having lunch with them between shows. And it’s because she doesn’t mind having lunch with them that she knows Santana Lopez is more than qualified to run the show, maybe too qualified if the copy of her resume Artie snuck them was anything to go by; and beyond that, she knows that Tina and Mike trust her completely, so she was never too worried about the change in production stage manager. Based on the complete and utter surprise of most people as they file into one of the larger rehearsal room for a quick meeting, Brittany realizes that she’s in a minority.

She spots Mercedes and Sam giggling together and blushing, so she heads over to them and collapses onto the floor beside them. None of the children are at the meeting, they’re all getting lunch with their parents and friends before the show at five, and though the meeting isn’t mandatory for the teenagers, there’s a couple of them gossiping in a corner. The entire rest of the company and all of the department heads, along with most of their departments too, are squished into the room. The mirrors lining the walls make it look like there are even more people than there actually are, and Brittany knows how nerve-racking it can be to stand in front of so many people with the mirrors multiplying them tenfold, but Santana looks calm and collected as her and Quinn break away from the small team of stage managers and stagehands in the corner to address the room.

It’s a typical meeting, and they go over some minor changes that Santana’s suggested to make backstage less congested during a couple scene changes, and despite the slight grumbling throughout the company, who like their routines perhaps too much, Brittany finds herself nodding along. They’re all changes that Brittany can easily see making the flow backstage so much smoother, and she briefly wonders why they haven’t always been doing it, but then she remembers their old production stage manager and how absentminded Holly can sometimes be and she’s not all that surprised. Their old production stage manager was a little all over the place, to say the least, and while Holly is an amazing director, but she doesn’t quite have the focused, meticulous, mechanical brain needed for stage managing. It’s refreshing to have a production stage manager that, despite having stepped foot in the theatre for the very first time about forty-eight hours ago, obviously seems to know what she’s doing.

The topic changes as Santana and Quinn address some of the dance corps, and Brittany finds herself tuning out of the conversation in favour of staring at Santana. She should probably be paying attention, but Santana does this cute little furrowed brow thing when someone interrupts her and Brittany kind of wants to smooth it out. She also talks with her hands a lot, and Brittany finds her eyes drawn to the movement of her arms as she gestures around or fiddles with her notebook. She’s completely lost to admiring Santana’s quiet grace in her movements when dark eyes catch on hers suddenly and something jolts up her spine, starting near her tailbone and tingling up towards the base of her skull as she sits up a little taller. She thinks maybe Santana’s just scanning the crowd and Brittany happened to see her when she glanced in Brittany’s general direction, but Santana’s eyes linger unmistakably on hers and it makes heat crawl, hot and prickling, under her skin until she’s pretty sure she’s blushing all the way down to her bellybutton. It’s been a very long time since Brittany got caught staring at a pretty girl, and she desperately pretends that her complexion doesn’t allow everyone to see exactly how fiercely she’s blushing.

Mercedes nudges her with her arm, smirking deeply as she glances between Santana and her, and Brittany curses herself for getting caught staring not just by Santana, but by her best friend as well. She’s pretty sure that she hasn’t felt this embarrassed to be caught staring at a girl since she was only questioning her sexuality in high school, and it doesn’t help that she knows that Mercedes is going to give her the third degree and relentlessly tease her as soon as they’re alone in her dressing room before the evening show. Mercedes continues to smirk at her even as Brittany resolutely refuses to acknowledge her; the worst thing about this is that she won’t even be able to escape from her best friend’s teasing after she leaves the theatre considering that Mercedes’ bedroom is about fifteen feet from her own.

She refocuses on the conversation as soon as she feels like she’s not about to burst into flames and Santana is asking if there’s any questions. Quinn winces beside her, as does half the company, while the only person who ever has ‘questions’ shoots her hand into the air, almost before Santana finishes talking. A wave of stifled groans goes through the company as Santana points at Rachel, whose arm is ramrod straight; Brittany’s been in ballet for almost as long as she’s been walking, and even her posture isn’t as straight as Rachel’s arm when she has a question.

“Yes, I was wondering if you have given any thought to changing the cast lineups to include more of the under-appreciated talent in this room. I would be willing to offer—”

“I’m sorry,” Santana interrupts, looking politely annoyed, “You are?”

Rachel draws herself up with an affronted air, and this time the company doesn’t try even hide their collective groan. “Rachel Berry, Marie’s understudy. I’m sure you’ve heard of me already.”

Santana glances at Quinn in barely concealed confusion, but Quinn just widens her eyes and subtly shakes her head.

“My talents, and I am sure you must be well aware of them, are wasted unless I am on stage in the spotlight,” Rachel continues without prompting. “My star shines too bright and it is a misuse of my talents to keep them hidden away in a lowly understudy roll—”

“Do you— Do you know what an understudy is?” Santana asks, her bewildered tone completely betraying her polite expression.

“Of course I know what an understudy is,” Rachel says haughtily, “As I’m sure everyone here knows, I was on Broadway in the prestigious revival of Funny Girl.”

“Yeah, for like a second,” Brittany mutters. Beside her, Mercedes and Sam snort and choke back their laughter.

Rachel continues to ramble, and Santana continues to look adorably baffled before she finally blinks out of her daze. “Look,” she interrupts loudly, waiting until Rachel awkwardly trails off, “I didn’t do the casting, I have no clue how well you dance, but I trust that Holly casted the correct people for the job, and I’m more than certain Tina’s earned her spot. And besides that, I have nothing to do with Tina’s ability to perform on any given day, and unless she calls in sick or injured, you will not be going on as Marie. As is standard of any understudy.”

“Yes, but—” Rachel starts. Brittany meets Tina’s eyes across the heads of people, and the pure, unfiltered annoyance in them as she rolls them at Brittany makes her bite down, almost painfully, on her lip so she doesn’t giggle too loud.

“No buts,” Santana says, her voice slowly growing more curt and clipped, “this is how shows are run. You are the understudy, you only go on if the principal cannot. Shows have done this for like, literally, a century. And I don’t know why you don’t know this, or why you seem to think I don’t understand how theatre works and will just put you on whenever you feel like it. But I have a feeling you aren’t going on unless Tina comes down with the bubonic plague.”

Rachel continues to argue, starting to criticize Santana’s running of the show and her experience, and as Rachel starts to move on to Santana’s personal character, Brittany can tell Santana is starting to lose the calm, collected exterior she’s had all meeting. Brittany leans back in her chair and surveys the room, sensing the rest of the company starting to shift around and glance at each other, and waiting for her opening. Sure, she hates Rachel as much as the next sane person, and she’s usually really good at just zoning her out, but she forces herself to pay attention to whatever is coming out of Rachel’s mouth because Santana’s far too cute to lose her temper in front of the entire company on just her second day.

The next time Rachel takes a breath to continue her rambling, Brittany tilts her head and dons her practiced look of confusion. “Does anyone else hear that? It sound like a cat getting its temperature taken,” she calls, just loud enough to be heard by the company, “All I can hear is screaming.”

There’s a small wave of chuckles that go throughout the room, and a small wave of oh it’s just Brittany being Brittany eye rolls too, but it shocks Rachel enough that she stops talking, her mouth freezing half open. Quinn takes the moment to quickly clap her hands together and dismiss everyone, and Rachel’s complaints are lost to a crowd of people quickly standing and trying to escape the room.

Brittany barely notices, because Santana’s amused and relieved dark eyes have landed on hers, and Brittany’s stomach flips over as Santana offers her a small smile, mouthing thank you across the room.

Santana has dimples and her nose scrunches up when she smiles, and Brittany’s pretty sure she’s already a goner.

//

The evening show goes even better than the matinee, and though there’s some slight confusion at the top of the first act, by the time intermission rolls around the backstage traffic is far less congested than usual thanks to Santana’s suggestions. Brittany can’t help the touch of smugness that colours her smile as she heads back to her dressing room while she listens to the gossip, which has changed from how surprised everyone is with Santana not completely failing to how impressed they are with her improvements. Sure, it’s not like the changes were Brittany’s own ideas or anything, but she feels like one of the only people who never doubted Santana for a second, and she’s proud that Santana’s proved them all wrong in less than twelve hours.

As soon as she reaches her dressing room, Mercedes is already there waiting for her. She helps Brittany out of her costume and tiara, before carefully unpinning her hair even though she doesn’t have to, while Brittany fights to peel her bodysuit and tights off, tossing them in the general direction of her tiny closet before carelessly peeling off the tape around her toes and dunking her feet in the bucket of ice by her couch. She hisses at the instant relief, and Mercedes just laughs and shakes her head.

“I gotta drop Sam off at his apartment a little early today,” Mercedes says, “Do you want me to swing around and pick you up after?” Brittany nods quickly; she ices her feet after almost every show, but the cold never fails to shock her body and steal her ability to speak. Mercedes tosses her the sweater she wore to the theatre, and Brittany quickly pulls it over her head, shivering as the cold seems to creep along her veins. Mercedes starts to head for the door, but suddenly stops and glances back at Brittany with a wicked smile. “Don’t think you’re getting out of talking about what happened at the meeting today, Britt-Britt,” she teases. Brittany groans and, despite the cold, she feels heat crawl under her skin again. Mercedes chuckles at her and waves her goodbyes as leaves, leaving the door cracked open. As soon as she’s gone, Brittany leans forward for her phone, quickly lighting it up to check her messages. There’s a couple promotional emails and a notification from instagram, but nothing from her mom, and she has to remind herself that no news is good news.

Movement from the hallway catches her eye and Brittany glances at the door, only spotting a flash of black as someone walks past. She briefly hopes it’s Santana, partially because she wants to talk to her and congratulate on the shows today, and partially because she wants to feel that same bright lifting feeling she did last night when she showed up in her dressing room doorway, but mostly because she has something to give her.

As soon as her teeth start chattering she realizes that the ache of cold has been replaced by the numb feeling that means she probably left her feet in the ice too long, and she quickly draws them out to dry them and pull on her warmest pair of socks. She takes her time wiping her makeup off and slipping into her comfiest and most worn pair of sweats just as she hears a knock at the door. She calls her invitation and hears the door creak open as she turns to greet her visitor, fighting down the flash of hope that curls beneath her sternum, which proves fruitless when she sees that it is Santana standing there just like she hoped. She’s wearing a cute leather jacket, a red scarf looped loosely around her neck, looking ready to head home for the evening, but what really catches Brittany’s attention is the small smiling playing on Santana’s lips.

“No banging shoes tonight?” Santana asks in lieu of greeting.

Brittany grins. “Wasn’t on the schedule,” she replies with a teasing shrug, “I didn’t work them too hard tonight.” Santana grins and hovers in the doorway, and it’s only then that Brittany notices the notebook in her hands. “You doing notes tonight?” she asks.

Santana starts a little and blinks away her surprise, seeming a little surprised by the notebook in her hands for a moment before she recovers. “Oh, god no, I just came down to see Tina quickly,” she laughs, “I barely had time to breathe during the show, let alone focus on doing any notes.” She holds up the notebook with a small smile. “Tina just gave me this in celebration of my first official show. It’s kind of a tradition.”

Brittany grins. “That’s cute,” she says. “It must be nice having people at the theatre you already know.”

Santana nods and her smile turns fond and a little nostalgic. “Tina and I were roommates all throughout college,” she explains, “And then she started dating Mike in our third year, and they’ve been nauseating adorable and loved up ever since.”

“They’ve been dating for that long?”

Santana laughs, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh yeah. If you think they’re bad now, you should have seen them when they just had crushes on each other through our second year. Adorable? Absolutely. Annoying oblivious? Definitely.” Brittany giggles. Tina and Mike are the most stable couple she knows, inside the company and out, but now she kind of wishes she could have known them before they got together. “They’ve been my best friends ever since,” Santana says, and though she rolls her eyes a little Brittany can see the fondness crinkling her eyes and tugging at her lips.

“That’s sweet,” Brittany says.

Santana shrugs a little and brushes it off with an embarrassed, “Yeah, well,” before straightening up a little. “Are you heading out soon?” Brittany barely has time to blink before Santana gets this bright, breathless, wide-eyed look and she starts talking again. “I mean— Because I’m on my way and Tina’s already gone so. I figured I’d check with you and— You know, see if you needed company,” she finishes lamely.

Brittany’s not quite sure if there’s a more adorable person on the planet, and she quickly assures Santana that, yes, she was just leaving too. She gathers her coat and shrugs it on, tugging a hat over her ears and sliding into her sneakers before heading to the door, collecting her wallet and phone from the coffee table on her way. Santana takes a step backwards down the hall to let Brittany out and she dig her keys out of her jacket pocket so she can lock the door.

She’s just about to turn the key when she remembers the whole reason she was hoping Santana would stop by in the first place. “Wait!” she says suddenly, shoving the door back open with a little more enthusiasm than strictly necessary, the sound of the doorjamb protesting the harsh movement echoing throughout the dressing room. “I have something for you!”

Santana watches her curiously from the doorway as she rummages around on the vanity in the dark until her fingers close around what she was looking for. She quickly crosses the room again, and Santana steps out into the light of the hallway while Brittany hides her tiny gift behind her back. “I, uh, saw this today and I got it so, um, so you have something to remember your first official show by,” she rambles, quickly biting onto her lip so more words don’t escape her as she hands the gift to Santana. It’s a tiny plastic figurine she saw through a toy shop window that morning on her way to the theatre, a flat circle of painted snow with the Sugar Plum Fairy dancing in the middle, surrounded by Marie in her white nightgown and the Prince in his soldier uniform. She’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be an ornament, but she cut the ribbon off so now it’s just a simple figurine.

Santana takes it carefully from Brittany, as if it’s made of fragile glass and not toylike plastic. Her fingers trace delicately over the dancing fairy and Brittany suddenly feels heat crawl and creep under her skin. Usually she’s not this prone to blushing, if anything she prides herself on making others blush, but Santana must have some innate connection to the blood vessels in her cheeks because they always seem to be super aware of her presence.

“I know it’s— Kind of dumb or childish or whatever,” she mumbles. She’s always been told by that too many people that, even if she is a principal dancer with one of the most prestigious dance companies in North America, but she understands how important it is to rediscover how to have fun; life’s far too hard and messy and cruel to take yourself too seriously, and Brittany’s found that sometimes the only thing you can do is have fun and laugh. But people have made her feel insecure about it for so long, all the way back in middle school when having sleepovers and playing pretend with her little sister suddenly wasn’t cool anymore, that it makes her nervous to drop her caution around people other than her sister or Mercedes or Sam because they almost always disappoint her.

“No,” Santana says quickly, shaking her head sharply, and when she glances up at Brittany her eyes are shining and bright with something Brittany can’t name. “It’s perfect,” she whispers, “Thank you.”

The heat in Brittany’s cheeks continues to prickle her skin, but as she kicks one foot behind her other she already knows it has less to do with nervous embarrassment now and more to do with how bashful-giddy she feels when Santana directs that smile at her. “You’re welcome,” she murmurs, “You deserve to remember today. You did amazing.”

Santana’s eyes never leave hers even as her smile widens and she whispers her thanks again. Brittany feels too much all at once and fumbles with her keys before quickly turning to lock her door, finding Santana’s eyes still on her when she turns back around. “Shall we?” Brittany asks, gesturing down the hallway.

Santana nods quickly, finally glancing away to look at the figurine in her hand before tucking it carefully in her jacket pocket.

Brittany finds it really easy to talk to Santana as they head out of the theatre, and the earlier heat creeping under her skin starts to fade as they navigate the halls. Santana can make Brittany laugh really easily and Brittany kind of really, really likes that, but Brittany quickly finds that what she likes even more is making Santana smile, because Brittany’s never felt more accomplished than when her deadpan makes Santana’s dimples crease her cheeks, and even better than that is saying something that makes Santana toss her head back as bright carefree giggles spill forth from her.

The make it to the front lobby far sooner than Brittany wants to, and as soon as they step out into the chilly air, her phone buzzes with a text from Mercedes telling her that she’s here just as a dark SUV pulls up. “That’s my ride,” Brittany says. They both pause, still smiling at each other, until Brittany shakes herself out of her daze and whispers a quick bye as she heads for Mercedes’ SUV.

“Hey,” Santana calls just as Brittany’s hand lands on the handle of the passenger door, “Thanks, for today. You know, at the meeting.”

Brittany feels something warm and bright and fond curl in her stomach. The feeling isn’t something she’s ever really felt before, but it reminds her of camping with her parents to celebrate the first time she ever won gold a competition, when she would huddle closer to the fire until it would feel like its warmth was blooming from within her cheeks and and chest instead of from the fire itself. “You’re welcome,” she murmurs, and despite the rush of the city around them Brittany feels a little bit like it’s just them on the sidewalk for a moment. “Goodnight, Santana,” she says softly.

Those dimples crease Santana’s cheeks and makes Brittany’s breath hitch just a little. “Goodnight, Brittany.”