#FUNDED IN LESS THAN AN HOUR FLAT

[cove-ism]

holy goodness i always am so very much in awe of gb patch from work ethic to the amazing atmosphere they conceptualize from start to finish and ahhhhhhh. just. woohhhhhhh

[feralprancinghomosexual]

My neighbour runs a scam company where he's basically a landlord for landlords (he works from home and takes all his calls in the garden so I get to hear his sale pitch on repeat and it's either a) nonsense or b) just lies) and they've been mildly annoying but like liveable as neighbours. (I mean they haven't fired bb pellets into our garden or thrown constant teen ragers so we can forgive the occasional 1am karaoke party.)

But now the prick has gotten himself a metallic purple lamborghini that he now every single fucking morning revs outside the fucking house at 10am bc he doesn't actually have a real job and then he drives it round the streets for like an hour or so and you can hear it coming back for like a full five minutes bc it's a VERY loud car and we live in a quiet suburb.

Every. Single. Morning.

If they didn't have cameras on their property like the arseholes they are I would very seriously consider pouring sugar in his petrol tank. 🙃🙃🙃

[nerdie-faerie]

Same flatmate that only seems to vacuum at 3am wants to complain about me playing music in the kitchen alone for the half an hour I'm cooking

[undertheorangetree]

Snowed In

Summary- A snow storm leads to an opportunity.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Modern Aemond. Cat Vhagar is modern AU canon. Friends to lovers vibe. Thigh riding. Blowjob. Cunnilingus. P in V sex. Safe sex practices for once. Probably ooc Aemond cuz he's experiencing joy.

Author's Note- Yes all of my fics take place in the winter what about it?? That's my business that I am now involving you in link to full fic below :)

dividers by me

"They've just closed campus."

Her head pops up from behind her laptop, staring at Aemond in wide eyed disbelief. Already, there is a sympathetic wince on his face, the kind that is only ever present when he knows she is about to get upset, but even then she refuses to believe him.

"Closed? What do you mean closed?"

"It says they had to on account of the weather."

"No, they haven't. Let me see."

He spins his laptop screen to face her, forcing her to push her own down in order to see properly. His email has been left open on the page and her eyes rove over the message she had so desperately hoped he had made up. There before her in big bold letters are the words URGENT- CAMPUS CLOSED followed by a brief explanation blaming a snow storm and apologizing for any inconveniences the decision may have caused.

She lets out a groan, leaning back in the library's old chair, a pleading look on her face as if Aemond is the one responsible for making such decisions. He may as well be, with his family being such heavy contributors to Oldtown University's alumni fund, his last name plastered across the front of one of the many building on campus. She has half the mind to ask him to go speak to whichever family member is on the chair committee to convince them to reverse the decision and allow them to go back to finishing their final papers, though somehow she doubts that would be likely.

"The storm wasn't supposed to start until tomorrow. It can't already be that bad, can it?"

He reaches over toward the blinds they have long since closed, both of them having agreed that the glare from the sun was too distracting hours ago, only to be met with the sight of a now white campus, the snow blanketing near everything in sight. It's evident now why they would have shut down campus - it must have been snowing for hours- but she still feels something close to dread work its way up her spine.

She sucks in a heavy breath, turning to face Aemond once more. "Do you think they would have shut down the buses too?"

She knows it's a lost cause even as she asks it. The university is located away from the port, standing alone at the top of one of the mountains. It's a steep drive even in idle conditions and she knows that with the snow on the roads, the chances of her being able to commute back to her apartment are slim to none.

Just as she suspects, he simply looks at her, face contorted in a way that clearly implies that she already knows the answer. She bites out a curse, half slamming her laptop down before dropping her face into her hands.

The last thing she wants to do is spend the night on campus. She doubts that they were the only two caught unaware and trying to find a place to camp out for the night is going to be hell. Not for him, of course. Aemond's family connections came with seemingly endless perks and he had been set up with a beautiful flat on campus, less than a five minute walk from the library. He has lived there ever since she has known him and she had been there more times than she could count. Since first befriending him during orientation week in their first year, she had spent countless nights eating take out and studying for finals there. With their joint history major, they had taken nearly every class together, making last night studying near second nature at this point, so close to finishing their degrees.

There's a faint burn of envy in her gut at the thought of his flat- warm, isolated, cozy- but it's quickly snuffed out by her nervousness, fretting over where exactly she is meant to camp out tonight. She doubts she will actually sleep, not while she’s alone on campus, but she still wants to be at least somewhat comfortable. A padded chair would be ideal, though she knows they will be difficult to come by if she doesn’t act quickly.

Shoving her laptop back into her bag, she begins collecting the handful of papers she had sprawled out across the tabletop. "I guess I should go and try to find somewhere to sleep. It's going to be a blood bath trying to find something with decent cushioning."

He scoffs. "You're not going to be fighting any blood baths. Just spend the night at mine."

Read the rest here

[seancekitsch]

Can’t Stand Me Now; a modern Aegon x Stark! reader fic

PROLOGUE: Not if You Were the Last Junkie on Earth

Y/N Stark and Aegon Targaryen. Aegon Targaryen and Y/N Stark. Inseparable since both eldest children met at Kings Landing University, until they weren’t. One night of drunken passion ruins it all.

Five years later, Aegon is coming off a broken engagement to Larissa Lannister and sends a risky Instagram DM to none other than Y/n Stark.

series masterlist here

warnings for the series: smut, smoking, drinking, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, more to come as needed

It’s finally dark by the time you step out of the underground, a chill accompanying the loss of light. Your old Jeffrey Campbell kitten heels clack along the cobblestones, bare ankles wobbly as you pull your faux leopard coat tighter over your body. Fall is finally settling in after a long hot summer at your boutique without air conditioning, a needed respite. No longer will you be handing out fans to customers or keeping a cooler of ice water behind your register. If you were back home, you’d already be in your parka, too cold to even open a window for a smoke or stand around outside for a pint after work. It never gets quite that cold here, and you have to thank your frozen old gods for that. People bustle around you, nightlife of a Friday already in full swing. You can already see the pub below your flat has a crowd of people spilling out of it into the streets. 

Neon lights the way, your choice of a flat in the Fleabottom area of Kings Landing a deliberate one; for no one wants to live where it’s loud, if they can help it. That means a spacious flat for less funds, more money to put into your boutique and barre classes in a posh neighborhood and expensive liquor to stock your cabinets. You however, thrive in chaos like moth to a flame, a flat above a pub is not an issue, as your last flat had been above a sex shop, the flat above that at Kings Landing University was above a club. Everything in Kings Landing was louder than Winterfell, and for that, you were thankful to blend into its shadows. Here, you were just another face on the train, another chic bitch taking an outfit of the day photo in the alley next to her building. 

It wasn’t always that way, no. When you went to KLU, you were damn near a socialite. Eldest daughter of the richest family in the north, best friends with the eldest son of the richest family in the south. Your whereabouts and your antics had been the subject of more than a few gossip pages and twitter threads, invasive pictures dissecting what you wore posted with price tags and zoomed in inserts of parts of your body you rather strangers not examine. 

But one day that all ended, you gradually disappeared from all of them happily. No longer were you exciting now that you were trying to become a business woman, feeds of your storefront so much less enticing than pictures of you scantily clad in vintage designer dresses and slung across a Targaryen lap.

Luckily, now if someone recognizes you, it’s because you’re the woman from above the pub, you’re the woman with the clothing store with bold prints in every color but green. You wave to a regular you see nursing a pint near one of the stand up tables against the pub, he’s always here after work… for at least five additional hours. Hopefully his wife knows he’s here instead of doing anything less innocent. 

You speed up as you pass more and more storefronts- a weird little skip walk in anticipation to your door, welcome and needed after a successful but busy day. The blue door shines like a beacon, nestled between a venue and a pub. Your key fits easily into the lock, and then the other lock, and the door gives way with only a slight push of your shoulder. How many times have you tried to leave the house and people had been smashed up against it, kissing or worse? You can’t recall, but you attribute it to the annoying stick of your door whether that’s fair or not. 

Slamming the door shut behind you, you trudge up the stairs, shrugging your jacket off and pulling your phone from the inside pocket before throwing it onto the coat rack outside your second door. Your other key works like butter in this one, and no shoving is required. You slam this door as well, and head straight to your window where a vintage brass ash tray and a cigarette lay ready for you. You open the window, a welcome draft accompanied by the din of the crowds. A vibration on your phone distracts you from lighting the cigarette between your fingers.

You figure its Sara, your younger half-sister. She seems to be your only friend these days. A recent graduate of KLU, but still taking daddy’s money, she lives across the city. Every weekend you go out drinking or dancing, twice a week you go to barre class, thrice a week she picks up a shift at your shop. You won’t be surprised if she’s telling you she’s heading over to go out, or inviting you out to one of the more expensive dance clubs in her neighborhood. You’ll go, if that is what she’s asking. Even if you’re almost thirty, that doesn’t mean you’re a homebody yet. You actually like one of the clubs she frequents, so you’ll hope she actually suggests you come to her’s. 

Only it’s not her name on the notification. It’s a message request to your personal, private instagram. You don’t get many of those, and curiosity gets the better of you. You immediately unlock your phone to swipe on the message. 

Message Request:

@ eggtarg: yo. u still single ??

Five Years, Two Months, Ten Days ago

A kiss on your lips, a harsh slap on his cheek, another kiss now this time initiated by you. That’s how this started. Another drunken night now a new drunken tryst.

Aegon’s fist wraps around your hair, yanking your head back harshly as his other hand digs into your hip, a vice-like grip. He slams into you, thrusts harsh and hard. Your fingers curl into his flannel bedsheets, lips hanging open as you moan wantonly for him. 

“Fuck, darling you don’t know how bad I’ve wanted this,” Aegon slurs, his lips finding your shoulder blade as he drapes himself over you, not at all slowing or stopping his pace within you. 

“You’re so amazing,” he moans, praise hot and heavy in his breath against your ear. 

“I never took you for a talker,” you joke with him, but the moan in your voice gives you away. 

He pulls out, only to turn you over and immediately go back to fucking you, reinserting himself gently before immediately snapping his hips into you. Your hands find his hair, nails on his scalp as you bring him down in a kiss, not the first and certainly not the last of the night. He babbles against your skin, kissing you and cutting off his own words, his hands all over you. His hands were always all over you, but this time it was different. 

“I love you,” he whispers, and you feel a hot tear fall and drip down the side of your throat. 

“I love you, you whisper back, hooking your legs around his waist. 

You both finish with tears in your eyes and smiles on your lips. 

He falls asleep combing his fingers through your hair, not unlike a normal sleepover between the two of you, but this time he’s mumbling nonsense about how he’s gonna plan the best date for the next day and how he’s never going to let you go. Aegon makes big promises. He says he’s stop drinking if you asked, says he’d buy a space for the boutique you want to open, says you and he could adopt Sunfyre a younger sibling, says he cannot wait to bring you back to his family estate as his woman and not just a friend. He mentions his mother’s ring.

You fall asleep feeling like there’s a plan for the rest of your life.

When you woke up, he wasn’t there. When you called him, it went to voicemail. When you texted, they stayed on read. 

He became a stranger after that. 

Message Request:

@ eggtarg: yo. u still single ??

Your finger moves, maybe on its own accord, and clicks the message. You can see his profile clearer now. Clicking on it, you notice something immediately. Larissa Lannister, his supposed fiancee, is no where to be found on his feed. Seemingly endless pictures of his cat Sunfyre, pictures of his siblings on family retreats, a Mother’s day post for Alicent, blurry party pictures with a few of his guys from college. It’s as if Larissa Lannister never existed. 

You immediately thumb the little back arrow in the corner when you see a picture of yourself, laughing wrapped in his arms.

But it seems the damage is already done. 

Message:

@ eggtarg: yo. u still single ??

@ eggtarg: ive missed u so much . i cn see uve read darling

Fuck this. Fuck this so incredibly much. You swipe off of the app, immediately calling Sara and putting it on speakerphone before finally lighting the cigarette. 

Sara, always prompt and attached to her phone, picks up after the first ring. 

“You done work?” she chirps on the other side, music in the background telling you she’s already doing make up for the night. Perfect.

“Yeah, listen, do you wanna go all out tonight?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Sara never turns you down. 

[charmwasjess]

This unstable spring weather is reminding me of when I was a teenager, I had a massive, irrational phobia of tornadoes, despite growing up in an area with little to no chance of them. It was so bad that my mom took me to a psychologist because I'd do irrational things like hide in the bathtub instead of going to school if there was any chance of severe weather. It didn't help. Every time the sky got dark, I'd get that weird, frantic, achy-itchy feeling.

And then, one day, I'm sixteen, working my first job at a coffee shop and I get a panicked call from my boss. I look out the window and almost comically, like it showed up just for me, to make some point, there's this beautiful white tornado dancing right towards us. I remember thinking it looked like the skinny part of an hour glass. It's true what they say about them appearing to hold still when they're heading for you, so I got a very good look at it. The trees were bending flat to the ground and the double doors of the shop were getting sucked open. Me and the other teenaged employee crowded the kids (we were also an ice cream shop, there was a birthday going on) into the center room, and we sang "happy birthday" over and over again to drown out the sound of it hitting the building. We were okay, but it took off several adjacent roofs and smashed up cars in the parking lot.

This was a weird way to start loving tornadoes. (cut for weather geekery)

They are like dreams - for all the data, we know relatively little about why they happen. We can see their ingredients: moisture, atmospheric instability, wind sheer, but sometimes all those pieces are in place and a tornado won't form. In fact, most often, it doesn't. They're still rare. The language we use to talk about them endlessly fascinates me: they are born out of thunderstorms called super cells, which have a 'lifecycle.' One thunderstorm can birth a single tornado, or many that live and die along the greater lifespan of the thunderstorm. The way they multiply is fascinating, one tornado can be circled by wispy, smaller, satellite tornadoes, or more rarely, two full-sized tornadoes side by side, a pair of twins. A group of tornados is a "family."

They come in all shapes and sizes. Mine was a skinny rope funnel, and a relatively weak example - F1 on the scale. The 1925 Tri-State tornado, F5, the strongest on the scale, was the longest recorded tornado in history with a 219-mile track. Part of the danger of that storm was that nobody even realized it was a tornado until it was right on top of them because it was so huge: it was said to look like a red, boiling fog from horizon to horizon because it was rain-wrapped, and had sucked up a lot of red river mud. Water tornadoes and fire tornadoes are both a thing.

They behave inconsistently too. The El Reno tornado that killed the storm chaser and scientist Tim Samaras in 2013 is often personified as evil, a storm set out to kill storm chasers, because it seemed to behave with particular, intentional nastiness. In 30 seconds, it went from a small tornado to a 2.6 mile wedge. It's hard to even imagine the scale of something like that: someone observing from a safe distance miles away is suddenly inside the literal tornado within less than a minute. Most tornadoes move in a more or less straight trajectory - this one repeatedly changed directions. But this is just another example of how even when scientists know how tornadoes generally behave, we're still figuring them out.

Of course, all of this is not about overly romanticizing a phenomenon that kills a ton of people each year, a fact that is only going to get worse with climate change. And certainly research funding and money for early warning systems or national weather services being less prioritized in the politicization of climate change.

I still have tornado nightmares a lot. I had one last night, which is I guess why I'm still thinking about the shapes. It's always the same: I'm standing in a house, usually my childhood home, and there are families of tornadoes that go right past it, but never hit. I still think they're so interesting. And it's funny the way anxiety can turn into fascination under the right circumstances.

[danielle-dna]

20 - Harm-Others

Books are ancient. The literature as an art is even older. Young people are mostly stupid and lack any artistic ability. I would know. I sat in class with them for six hours, two days a week. University as an institution represents intelligence and the desire for knowledge. But not the university I picked.

When you have limited options for higher education due to the lack of nepotism, you just need to settle for what is given to you. My local university had excellent young and educated professors and many useful resources, but lacked intelligent and enthusiastic students.

Most of my classmates barley attended the seminars, most of them smoked, vaped and drank like it was a sport. I attended all lectures, submitted every assignment on time and did my best to keep up. But still, I was unable to achieve higher score than a B.

This of course led me to a downward spiral on social media as I was desperately trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. My first solution was to do a hot-girl-walk. So I got dolled up like I was going to a fancy yoga studio, when in fact, I was strolling in my local shopping centre with a cheap iced coffee can from Poundland, wearing a cheap black Primark workout set. Slowly I ventured in posh shops, where everyone was white and british and they always made me feel like an imposter. What do you think you are doing here, you filthy broke foreigner? Where is your trust fund? Where is your daddies Rolls Royce?

Ignoring the intrusive thoughts I entered Waterstones and started looking through my favourite sections, however every time I picked up a book, it made me painfully aware of my situation. There was not a book in the entire shop that was under £10. £10 - that is groceries for a few days. That is two bottles of shampoo. A pair of leggings from Primark that will get worn off in a few months. My working class math mind was working overdrive. It made me angry. If i could, I'd have a library of my own. I'd invest in my own education and read all the books I wish. Instead of owning my own, carefully curated library I had to use the local public library that was pretty good, but not incredible.

Once again, pushing my intrusive thoughts aside, I ventured further into the expensive world of beautifully curated books and aesthetically pleasing yet equally expensive stationery. There I stumbled upon a small section of self-help books. Well, browsing couldn't hurt, right?

Very soon, I noticed a common pattern among the titles and content of the books available. All of them claimed that the problems and solutions are inside of ourselves. That all issues and challenges we encounter are solvable, but only if WE really try and if WE find a solution. Fuck this, I thought. I always tried to do everything right. I never got in trouble with the law, I never drank, did drugs or even smoked. I tried my best to succeed while not having a single day off a week and working in a job where everyone else was disrespectful to me, while I tried to help them. Where coworkers would not acknowledge me because I was always the youngest staff member. I tried to stay positive, despite my mother always having less and less interest in me, often leaving me to deal with my issues by myself, or worse, caused me emotional trauma just because I disagreed with her and then she would blame me for everything else in her life.

Fuck this.

As calmly as I could, I exited the bookstore.

On my way home, I decided to visit Simon. Entering his apartment building, I headed towards his flat. Thankfully, he gave me the combination to the main gate. Right before I knocked, I heard some voices inside the flat. Before I could cheez it, my gorgeous masked man has already opened the door. This time without a mask. "You okay?" I was almost too stunned to speak. "Yeah, yes...aha? You got company....?" Nodding his head and leaning on the doorframe he calmly answered: "Few of my mates are over to watch the game." Slightly craning my neck, I could see the same man from the shooting range. Soap, I think. And I recognised the second one with the fishing hat, except, this time he didn't wear any hat and didn't wear a military uniform. The third man seemed younger, but I've never seen him before. But I knew they were all military.

When they saw me, all three of them looked at me curiously. I felt judged, scared. Like a fly under a microscope. "Oh, shit, sorry...I didn't know. See you later then."

Before he could reply, I almost ran downstairs. However, right before he closed the door, I could hear the following: "Is yer lass joining?" Simons' sharp "Shut up Johnny" followed.

[fio-renze]

Becoming a citizen was going to take some time — that’s what the lawyer had said, at least. Not that the timeline mattered too much, there were reasons to avoid Silvermoon that weren’t related to her fears around the intelligence wing of the Magistry claiming that the memories of her former projects were government property and seizing them. 

There were reasons to stay fairly well hidden in Dalaran, too; at the very least it made sense to avoid some of the more public spaces where people she knew tended to congregate. The floating city, with its hard boundaries, was still fairly large and had quarters she hadn’t spent much time exploring. Fiorenze’s realtor had tipped her off about the upcoming sale of a modest flat in a tower that had been converted into a multi-unit situation — a rarity, and certainly a situation not worth passing up. 

It certainly wasn’t the Sunmote Tower; just a single floor, segmented up into a kitchen, a sitting room, a guest room with its own small bathroom, a master bedroom with its own large bathroom, and a couple terraces like most of the tower living quarters tended to have. The carefully curated style of the wooden floors and wall moldings made it pretty clear that it had once likely belonged to an entire household that likely spanned a couple more levels above and below. 

Now it was hers, and mostly empty. The down-payment alone had taken a decent chunk out of her funds left over from the settlement with Sheizara Tel’vaiel, and while she certainly wasn’t destitute, she didn’t want to touch the gold she’d sequestered away for investments. Getting some kind of a job was starting to seem more and more prudent as the days drew on. 

Pyraelia had kindly offered to put in a good word with the Violet Citadel for her, they were always in need of clerks and reliable administrators. It was a safe bet, but seemed horrendously mind numbing and tedious. 

Fate, fickle mistress as she was, smiled a bit during one of her small adventures in her new neighborhood cluster. There was a little flower shop tucked away at the base of one of the grander towers, and she’d ducked in to see about a couple bouquets and vases to help brighten up the new apartment. The bell above the door jingled and Fiorenze was met with an immediate shout from the back of, “I’m SO sorry, we’re closed!” 

The florist hurried out immediately, an extremely harried look on her half-elven face as she looked at Fiorenze and the sign on the door that still very much was turned to ‘Open’. Fio raised an eyebrow and smiled politely, “Of course, I.. well, this is probably a bit of a forward question, but do you need any help? My name is Fiorenze Sunmote, I’ve just moved in down the street…” It seemed like she needed help, and it was bad luck to not seize what seemed like a good opportunity. 

“My employee hasn’t shown up for the third time this week and there’s a wedding in the citadel that I have to start setting up in less than an hour—” the florist paused as Fiorenze’s question caught up to her, “Do you have experience with floral arrangements?” 

Fiorenze smiled brightly and nodded, “I do, I am well versed in the language of flowers and previously worked in an antiques shop in Silvermoon City, so I know how to work a till.” She certainly didn’t remember how to work a till, but how hard could it be? Not to mention she’d been fired from Brasspride & Birchleaf’s, but that was a different time and circumstance. 

“I’m Emeli Springwhisper, it’s very nice to meet you. I do need the help, but I don’t know you,” she reached up to brush the pieces of black hair that had fallen out of her messy bun back behind her short, pointed ears, “and I really need to be going. Would you mind coming back by tomorrow with a resume and flipping the open sign to closed on your way out?”

That was, at least, not an outright no. “Of course! I don’t mind at all, more than happy to. I’ll come back first thing tomorrow morning — I hope the wedding goes well, the flowers smell amazing from here!” Fiorenze left one of her personal contact cards on the main counter as Emeli immediately rushed back to whatever she had been doing.  

At the very least, Fiorenze liked flowers more than she had liked antiques, and even if it wasn’t the best paying job it was still better than nothing to help provide a cushion for the necessities. She turned the sign to closed like she said she would and started her walk back across the city to Sunmote Tower. 

Pyraelia was going to have to help her write a resume.

[tychodorian]

Less Than 10 Days Left on the King of Dust Kickstarter!

Can you believe it? We're on the final stretch of the King of Dust Kickstarter campaign, and what a journey it's been! From hitting our funding goal in less than 30 hours to unlocking some epic stretch goals, it's been a whirlwind of excitement and support.

But hold onto your hats, because the adventure is far from over! With less than 10 days left on the clock, we still have some epic stretch goals waiting to be conquered. And trust me, you won't want to miss out on the action.

So, what exactly is King of Dust, and why should you be a part of this literary escapade? Picture this: a LitRPG vampire fantasy that follows the adventures of Darius Starbán, a vampire king navigating the treacherous lands of Starkovia. But this isn't your typical vampire tale. With a mix of humor, romance, and thrilling action, King of Dust promises an unforgettable reading experience that will keep you on the edge of your seat from start to finish.

If you're a fan of unforgettable characters, Dungeons and Dragons shenanigans, and low spice flat-out vampire fun, then King of Dust is tailor-made for you. It's a story about love, friendship, and redemption – in other words, everything you could ever want in a fantasy adventure.

So, if you haven't already, now's the time to make your move! Head over to the Kickstarter page and grab your copy of King of Dust before it's too late. Let's smash those stretch goals together and make this literary journey one for the books!

The clock is ticking – are you ready to embark on the adventure of a lifetime? 🥰

To get your copy, head on over to my pinned post, click the Linktree link, and get to the Kickstarter from there. Happy reading!

[pumpkin-spike18]

✨Weekly Progress #29-30✨

Let me start this off by apologizing for my inactivity 🙇‍♂️ I try not to dive too deeply into my mental health on this blog, but those who know me well know how much I struggle with it. I think my brain shut down and retreated after finishing my recent projects. I relied on daily never-ending tasks to get me through each day with a sense of accomplishment so when that ended, I wound up in a void where I couldn't bring my creativity to amount to anything new.

I kicked my butt back into gear the last couple of days after realizing how little I did during week 29 (and week 28 looked inflated, but I did most of the work in 2-3 days leaving most of my week blank).

I don't know where I'll go from here, but I've worked out some new upcoming plans for future projects! And I'll do my best to start replying to messages and comments;; I've left everyone on read for long enough...!!

Thank you so much everyone, for continuing to support me al this time! 💕

Weekly Progress #29

Wrote O2A2 post mortem

Finished aKwtD ref sheet lines, flat colors

Weekly Progress #30

Finished aKwtD Liz refsheet

Finished aKwtD Camille refsheet

Reorganized/scheduled work

made SFB roadmap

Prepped SYVNH plan

Updated vgen services

Drafted more proposals

Sketched SFB sprite

Detective story concepting/outlining

A Kiss with the Devil

I completed the refsheets for Ley's upcoming yuri game!

It was a lot of fun designing them from scratch and then being able to render them in full body art! I've always shied away from full body pieces because they take a lot of time and energy... the refsheets took over a week from sketch to final piece. But I'm really happy with how they came out!

Camille, the player character, and her love interest, an immortal and possibly immoral eldritch creature, Liz!

A Sky of Falling Birds

I'm working on proposals for funding and marketing of this game as it will be a commercial work when finished. I created a new roadmap for how I'll plan to get more assets done (...and reduce the number of assets, hopefully). The current plan is to have a Demo 2.0 for Yuri Jam to better show off the story since the current demo focused more on the art and animation aspect.

A sketch for the final character sprite of SFB. I originally planned to give her two outfits, but I might try to cut that if I can...

Stuck in a Yandere Visual Novel... HELP!!

Yes...! I've still got a bit of work left for this project!! Mainly some future updates. I do want to get a steam release for SYVNH one day so I'm working towards that!

I will also be putting out some surveys soon for interest in merch based on the characters. The feasibility of it will depend on interest for what type of merch, ofc, but at the very least, I will be working on some new art for folks soon [: As a thank you for playing, and all the love you've shown for the game so far!

Other

I went into more detail than I probably should've in the intro of this post, but even in my "slump," I've been busy practicing art when I'm not getting my butt kicked by some Hollow Knight mini boss for 2 hours.

I've started a doodle blog, that some folks found in less than 24 hours 💦I'm not ready to formally connect the two together, but if it seems like I've been active there, it's just cause I draw a lot every day. It makes the monotony feel better. This blog will still contain all of my devwork, but all my art musings will be in that one.

I'm sure I'll have the courage to link the two together soon.

[imaginesofeverykind]

And Quite The Love Affair || S.Sallow || Chapter 3

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Original Female Character (set in post game 1899)

Word Count: 5k

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Implications of abuse, manipulative partner, period typical sexism

—- —-

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sebastian asked, seeing Lucinda well deflated and defeated after lunch with her parents. Her back pressed up against the door as if they would be back any second to jump down her throat about her career choice, her decisions to do things that didn’t benefit the family whatsoever.

“No… No, it's okay.” She was flat, completely worn out and not at all the fervent and scattered muggle he had met her as and known her for being - at least in the last twenty-four hours that is. “Sorry you got caught in the middle of all that.”

“Don’t apologize. If it’s any consolation — I can’t wait to wipe their smarmy smiles off their faces when we get that almanac updated.” His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his trousers as he fought the urge to physically show comfort toward her, a hand on the shoulder may perhaps be too much for her all things considered, hells, even a hug would be too out of pocket.

Her lips tugged into a smile, “Right. They might not approve of my work but they will know my success.”

“That’s the spirit!”

The two fell silent for just a moment as Lucinda kicked herself off the door and made her way to the kitchen, “I suppose I should let you in on this grand plan… Now that you’re helping me and all.” She beamed, slowly regressing back to her usual bubbly self after the whirlwind that was her afternoon.

“As funny as it would be to do this entire charade blind, I would appreciate even just a smidge of direction — if you can spare it of course.”

“Well, fortunately for you, my entire research depends on you looking the part of a botanist and acting like you know at least what you’re talking about.” She crossed the room and picked up a small stack of parchment papers that had been thoroughly annotated and handed them over to him with a smile. “If I suspect, we’ll have to meet with the board within the week to plead our case and offer proof of funding… I can handle that, but you need to at least pretend to be interested in plants.”

”I’ve heard I'm quite the crack at acting, your precious research papers are safe with me.” He smiled at her, scanning the page of what looked like utter rubbish in his eyes, for all he knew it very well could’ve been written in Gobbledegook and he’d be unable to tell the difference. “Say, how do you plan on funding the expedition?”

Her face scrunched up into mild disgust as the thought crossed her mind, it was all the more unpleasant the longer her thoughts remained on the answer, though her mouth hadn’t moved, nor had words formed out loud. Sebastian, however, had read the ministrations on her face as something perhaps less innocently and flushed red in the cheeks, “well before we resort to such drastic solutions, we can think of a better way to get money that doesn’t involve you… well…” he trailed off, thinking of a word that wasn’t going to insult her. “Sharing yourself around.”

”Pardon?” She nearly choked on her own spit, a strangled laugh falling from her lips and only getting louder the harder she thought about her poor companions derailed train of thought. It was quite preposterous but at the very least in her mind, whatever it was Sebastian had thought she was referring to seemed to be much more pleasant to her than the alternative. The reality.

“Oh absolutely, I assure you the alternative is much worse… I appreciate your concern, truly but no. Unfortunately it means I will have to muster the courage to see Kenneth.”

The venom in her voice didn’t go amiss, and while Sebastian was relieved that she one; didn’t get offended by his misguided attempt to read into a situation, and two; wasn’t resorting to desperate means to make ends meet, he very much was intrigued at who this so called Kenneth was that garnered so much of a visceral reaction from her. “I’ll take it we don’t like Kenneth,” he jested, watching the faintest hint of a smile ghost her lips.

She nearly visibly shrunk, it seemed, hugging her torso with slumped shoulders as she refused eye contact, “he’s who my parents engaged me to, so no. I don’t like him, but for the purpose of this research expedition. I love him — most importantly his money.”

—- —-

Lucinda Cornwall was a refreshing surprise, Sebastian deducted. Having spent a week in her company he had come to know the woman far quicker than anticipated due to her outspoken and friendly nature. At first he thought it was dim of her, to be so candid and honest to a stranger, then he questioned internally whether or not she was being truthful. Since the last person he knew was so ‘open’ and ‘honest’ was that ruddy Leander Prewitt who he had despised as a teenager. Yes, it was 10 years ago, and no he still held disdain for the Prewitt boy - now man.

But he had come around to accept rather quickly that, no she wasn’t naive or stupid for indulging in facts about herself so freely, nor was she trying to manipulate him to perceive her differently.

“No! What are you trying to do, drown the poor thing!?” She yelled, slapping Sebastian's hands that held the watering can over top of her cherished Bird of Paradise.

Well, he thought. She had her moments.

“How am I supposed to know how much ‘enough to soak the soil’ is when I’ve soaked the soil?” He countered, a smile on his face despite being reprimanded. He wasn’t fond of being told off or quite frankly, told what to do - it reminded him of being a boy again and the egregious amount of times he was sent to detention for not following rules or sneaking about.

However, getting to know his companion, he knew she was being earnest and was gentle when helping him learn basic Botany knowledge.

She sighed and gently took the watering can away from him, teaching someone what naturally came to her was something utterly new and proved to be difficult, despite this she constantly reminded herself to be more tender when handing feedback to Sebastian considering he really need only look the part and not be as adverse in Botany as she was. “You watch me –,” she turned to the side and began trickling water over her ‘overly dramatic’ - as she put it - Pothos, “watch as the roots soak up the water and the leaves start to lift just enough…” she trailed off, eyeing the water level and then stopping. “And see the small puddle, it's slowly draining which means the roots are getting a good drink in.”

Sebastian stared at the plant, wondering what on earth she was exactly talking about, but the minor movements of a plant would look far different to someone who knew what it looked like, versus a simpleton like he was. “If I have to be honest – didn’t really see a difference.” He offered a shrug as she merely rolled her eyes at him in response, he might have thought that she was annoyed at him had it not been for the slight smile she wore as she moved around him with grace.

“You seem rather content this morning considering you were in utter shambles last night,” he commented, the image of her late night meltdown where she wallowed over her research and fretted over inviting an unwanted guest in her home burned into the back of his mind.

Her eye seemed to twitch and he immediately regretted saying anything, it was a mere observation and nothing more, but he perhaps spoke too brashly to her, finding each passing moment with her comforting and safe to speak his mind without thinking. Though it was not his prerogative to upset the woman who graciously housed him for free and was an absolute delight to be around.

“Don’t let the smile fool you, I am unbelievably beside myself with stress this instance,” she gritted through a near perfect smile, and continued to inspect her indoor plants. The select few she kept in her home required a little more attention than in her greenhouse shack, and despite the impending doom (Kenneth’s Arrival) she was relatively normal seeming.

“Well — I think you’ve got it all handled, you’re clever and brilliant. I don’t care what that ignorant sod says to you or what your parents say. If this falls through we can find something else to fund the expedition.” He assured her, listening to his own words he himself found it hard to believe it came from his mouth and so succinctly as well. Given his track record, he was well aware of his own manipulative tendencies, especially when wanting things to go his way. Though that aside it was more a suprise given that he said it wholeheartedly and not even an edge of a lie caught in there.

He tried to keep in mind what he was really doing, keeping her from learning too much and intervening if it got that far …Out of… Concern? No, he wasn’t entirely sure why just yet. He’s had numerous chances to wipe her memory, even found himself clutching his wand on several occasions with the intent to do so, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it and not an iota of reason as to why he simply couldn’t. Perhaps, her passion and never ceasing curiosity was something he could relate to, or maybe it was the way she beamed when she spoke in great detail about her work that he truly believed she deserved a breakthrough like this.

Why not? It wasn’t the first time a muggle had gone into grave detail about the Wizarding World, if he recalls correctly that several muggle poets and writers like Edgar Allan Poe and more recently Arthur Machen had to have been exposed in some essence to the magical world to write such close accurate accounts of magic. Why couldn’t Lucinda Cornwall be amongst the revered few?

Despite his hesitancy, Sebastian outstretched his hand, offering it to her for comfort and she surprisingly took it, giving it a gentle squeeze, however what most caught Sebastian off guard was how soft her hands were all things considered. They were covered in dirt or ink most of the time and yet they were delicate and as soft as velvet. Her nails, however, were absolutely destroyed as he noted how often she bit into them out of nervousness.

“If this doesn’t work I don’t have any other options.” She sighed, a slight tremble of doubt in her voice.

“Perhaps, but I can always try something.”

”No — I’ve already asked so much of you,” she smiled at him, releasing her grasp from his and not a moment too soon, as if she willed him into existence the front door opened wide to reveal the man she dreaded seeing the entire morning. Her stomach opened up like a never ending pit of unease, filling her with a type of nausea beyond compare. He stood tall and stout, slicked back black hair that looked immaculately placed atop of his pale and square head. Kenneth Bradbury was by no means unattractive, he had deep brown eyes and a thick wispy mustache that he styled to keep his appearance tidy, but it was never about looks for Lucinda — he was rotten from the inside.

“Darling!” He drawled, closing the door behind him promptly as he spotted his dear fiance through the entrance inside the kitchen. She hadn’t moved a muscle, feeling as though she was glued to the spot or being held by a force beyond her understanding. She blinked merely once, or so she thought, and he was right in front of her, standing ever so imposing on her small figure and pulled her into a tight embrace, “you haven’t slept a wink, have you! What have I told you about staying out in that shack so late?”

Lucinda stood unmoving while he fretted over her, heart racing like it had always done around him and not in the way it did in those poems she sometimes read or the books she used to read as a young girl, but in a way that urged her to run to get away. Her eyes flicked over to Sebastian who stood in awkward silence at the display, to him, nothing thus far indicated the wretched man he was described in great detail about.

It wasn’t long after their embrace ended that Kenneth finally noticed Sebastian off to the side, his expression melting from one of delight to confusion that a stranger was in his fiance’s house without him knowing about it, “You didn’t say you had a guest, who are you?”

“Sebastian Sallow. Research Partner.”

”Research Partner? My, you always do leave such grave details out of your letters don’t you?” Kenneth’s voice gritted through a polite smile that could also be mistaken for a scowl. What was most damning was that despite their last conversation she still seemed hellbent on her plant research. ”Darling, I thought you promised you’d get that job sorted at the Hospital? You spend all that time fretting over a hobby, you need a real job.”

She frowned, taking a step back and brought a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose while her thoughts went absolutely wild. There was nothing that came to mind for her to speak on or defend herself with, merely opening and closing her mouth until Sebastian came to her defense, “Luce is quite gifted in Botany, you’d do well to remember that when she becomes world class after the find she’s discovered.”

Luce. His betrotheds nickname, that even he wasn’t allowed to call her at the request of her made him do a double take. So how is it that a stranger he had heard nothing about until this very moment was allowed to call his fiance by that? “I think you ought to leave, Sebastian. It’s getting late and my dear fiance needs her sleep.” He reached over to grab onto her arm, but she batted him away in distress.

”It’s not even half two, and I don’t think you can dictate what she does or doesn’t do.” Sebastian raised his brow at the man, obviously catching a glimpse at what Lucinda had warned him about.

Anxiety filled her.

She knew this is how Kenneth would act but she needed to not let him walk all over her like he always did, she needed to assert herself and what she wanted but by heavens did it strike the fear of God into her to even think about asserting herself. Incessantly, she picked at her poor thumb once again, re-opening the scab that was barely healed from last night's meltdown, “be quiet — both of you.” Her composure wavered, but it got her the peace she desired while mustering up the courage to say what she needed to, “I’ll make you a deal… You let me do this one expedition and after that, no more plants, no more obsessing over all of this. I’ll get a job at the hospital but please let me do this.”

Sebastian folded his arms impressed at his companion, she was quite the manipulative little vixen when she needed to be, not that he minded, rather he admired her for it. The way she made her voice softer as she all but pleaded for Kenneth to listen to her, no doubt doing that trick he had seen girls from his school days pull — up turning their brows which made their eyes wide and also made it virtually impossible to say no to.

“Expedition? You never said anything about going anywhere?”

“W-well it's actually up in the air right now — I need funding to get it approved but once that's done we can be out across Europe within the fortnight.” She rambled, head tilted down at her feet as she drew on, losing the steam she had built up a moment before, feeling Kenneth’s unsettling gaze on her, not to mention what Sebastian must think of her. He must be so upset with me. She fretted, feeling isolation pull her into the depths of nothingness as she stood in her own kitchen bearing the weight of two mens stares.

There was nothing more Sebastian wished to do than to go to her and offer a hand, seeing her shrink into herself, offer her something that she could squeeze reassuringly but he knew it was not appropriate given the current situation. Though he’d rather enjoy how her betrothed would act if he did so, feeling rather spiteful he half considered going out of his way to do that but steeled himself.

Kenneth walked over to her, grazing his hand on her cheek before cupping the point of her chin, forcing her to head and gaze to look at him, “promise me. No more of this childish dream of yours. I won't hear anymore of this when you’re finished with this, straight to the Hospital where you can finally do some real good. I won’t marry some halfwit floozie, you understand?”

He held her gaze, there was promise behind his eyes and there would be nothing she could do to convince him after it was all over. She swallowed hard, nodding in his grip but he didn’t let go nor say anything, it was clearly written in his stern face. I need to hear you say it. Is what she could very much discern, “I promise. No more.” Her voice was barely audible, getting tangled in her throat as it came out.

Finally, he relaxed, his grip dropped and she felt as though she could breathe properly once again. “Good girl,” he muttered, adjusting his two piece suit and the cuffs around his wrist, “let me write to the bank, I’ll even fund it for you, my dear.” His voice had a timbre that irked Sebastian, who stood horrified at the scene he just witnessed moments ago.

“Brilliant! Thank you! Sebastian, pack your bags, we're going to have to meet with The board in London before embarking. We’ll get the first train tomorrow morning.” Lucinda could barely contain her excitement, as if washing away her previous nausea and anxiety by focusing solely on the news in front of her.

”Wait, he’s not going with you is he? Darling, I don’t even know him and you expect me to let you run off with him?” Kenneth looked between the two, unsure what exactly compelled his dearest fiance to work so closely with another man, one he knew nothing about no less. He couldn’t let his beloved simply waltz out of Mansfield to London in the presence of another man, what kind of fool he’d look like to everyone who knew him.

“Did you miss the part where I said I was a research assistant, or are you simply too dim to understand the meaning?” Sebastian’s words came out quicker than his brain could keep up with the filter in place, he honestly hadn’t meant for it to come off as bitter as it did — well actually, he did mean it, but not for Lucinda’s sake.

“What did you say?”

”Nothing! Kenneth, he said nothing. But yes he’s coming, who else is going to document the travels?” She sprung immediately into damage control, standing by her fiance’s side and placing a hand on his arm as if that may ease the tension between the two men. “Sebastian, can you give us a moment?” She eyed him apologetically, not particularly open to the idea of being alone with Kenneth but needing it nonetheless.

He wasn’t overly fond of leaving her alone either, but relented simply because she asked. It was the least he could do considering he had quite literally spoken out of turn, not wanting to make things harder on her anymore he simply nodded and left the ever ‘happy’ couple alone in the kitchen. The longer he was of even close proximity to Kenneth, the easier it was to heed Lucinda’s warning, though the aristocrat was very sly in his misdoings to her. Had Sebastian not been forewarned prior, he might have even not noticed the slight passive aggressive nature toward her which was troublesome at best.

“I don’t like him,” Kenneth seethed, placing two hands on her shoulder and holding onto them firmly as if scolding a child. “He’s far too comfortable around you.” He added, searching her eyes for even an ounce of guilt behind them, but there was none, she had nothing to feel guilty about, housing a man in need who was equally helpful to her own cause.

She blew out an exasperated sigh, her mind swimming and stomach dropping all because the man in front of her was someone she couldn’t stand yet in the same breath also feared. “He’s been really helpful, truly.” She defended, though she didn’t want to, she still found her hand come up to caress the side of his face in an attempt to give her words more care and impact.

”I believe you my sweet,” his voice was soft but still as deathly sinister as it was at a normal volume, he brought a hand to meet hers on his cheek, moving it down as quickly as a predator strikes for its prey to her wrist and jerked her forward, “but I don’t trust him. I’ll fund your trip, but allow me to join you.”

Oh dear. This was most not ideal.

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you — what about the factory, they couldn’t simply let you leave on such short notice.” Her eyes flitted to the gorilla grip he had on her wrist, debating whether or not to say anything, deciding rather quickly that it was in her best interest to not provoke him further. She was indeed right about his work, however, her motivations were strictly on ensuring he doesn’t muddy the important research taken and would rather deal with him in a much more suburban setting than out in the wilderness.

He watched her gaze, carefully releasing his grip, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss atop her head as if it would make up for him being rough. “They will understand, who knows? You’ll be off galavanting into the wilderness and I don’t want anything bad happening to my sweet. I don’t want that man taking any chances with you alone—”

”The academy sends us two academic escorts, one of them will possibly be my old Professor. Truly, it is not like I will be stolen away and never to be seen or heard from again.” She forced a smile, one that was supposed to display caring and empathy but her eyes were solemn and told a completely different story. Perhaps Kenneth was right to worry, she hadn’t even fully known Sebastian herself, but it wasn’t like it was going to be the two of them alone for however long the expedition takes.

”Ah, more men to add to the trip? Really, you sometimes are as daft as you look darling. I’m coming and that's final, I don't want any other men ogling at what’s mine.”

She sighed in defeat, there was no changing his mind whether she was the most persuasive woman around — he had made up his mind and she was simply going to have to honour it no matter how frustrating the prospect was. “Well, alright. But we are leaving tomorrow for however long it takes us to find what I’ve started.” Her words came out frimer than intended, shocking even herself, possibly there was a fire to stoke within her if she only had the right utensils to keep the blaze alight.

”Of course, I’ll be at the station first thing tomorrow,” he brought a hand to cup her cheek, delicately brushing a thumb over the collection of freckles that decorated the apples of her cheeks. “I’m only so hard on you because I love you, you know that right?”

Failing to meet his eyes, she opted to stare at his forehead before looking back down, “I know.” She wished he didn’t, wished her parents hadn’t gone ahead and promised her to a man she didn’t love or like for that matter, wished that she could do much more with her life, wished she was born a man to receive the privileges she so often had to work double effort for.

Kenneth gripped her jaw, forcing her head up before giving her a small and quick peck on the lips, “see you in the morning, darling.”

Positive that she had mumbled a response she stood suspended in time, as if stuck in a stasis of sorts while trying to process what had just happened. Everything was so quick it was nearly impossible to register the feeling of nausea properly, or the excitement followed by disappointment and eventual dread. There was utterly no chance she could complete the research with him around chastising her everytime she would partake in something that wasn’t ladylike, hells, there was the highest chance he’d give her attitude for only packing hiking appropriate attire.

Not to mention that chaos that would ensue by her ignoring him in favor of discussing research notes with her traveling companions.

Deep within the recess of her mind, trapped in a never ending spiral of thoughts, conclusions and outcomes — so intently transfixed she hadn’t even noticed Sebastian leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen once Kenneth had left. Respecting Lucinda’s privacy wasn’t totally in the forefront of his conscience when lingering nearby, eavesdropping on their conversation, rather he was far more concerned for her safety if anything.

He wasn’t sure why the man got his bonnet in such a mess over Sebastian — well, actually no, he was sure the reasoning had been because unlike others, he was not afraid to bite back when ordered around. And he certainly didn’t like the tone or way someone who was supposed to be her fiance spoke to her so of course he would speak up.

“If you asked, I could hex him.” Sebastian blurted out, a simple phrase that came naturally but immediately made him nervous upon saying out loud to a muggle. Stupid, Sebastian, you’re an idiot.

She snapped out of her daze at the sound of his voice and snorted halfheartedly, “if it were possible, I doubt a hex would deal with him. Sorry you had to hear that.” She sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples and applying slight pressure to ease the oncoming headache. Between her parents and her betrothed she was heading to an early grave. Leaning on the counter she finally released a full breath of air, feeling as though no air had escaped her lungs the entire time Kenneth invaded her sacred space.

”Stop apologizing for the people in your life. I’d say they have your best interest, but clearly I see it otherwise.” He assured, folding his arms over his chest, still leaning on the door frame and inspecting her body language. Aside from the day she made that telephone call he hadn’t seen her this closed off physically, shrunken down and hunched as if a cowering dog expecting to be hit would. With that association in mind, he’d hate to imagine what’s occurred in the past for her to behave in such a timid manner.

Half expecting her to shy away, she merely smiled in response and softly nodded, “thank you, truly — Sebastian, I don’t have anything to give you to show my gratitude, but believe me, it’s there.”

“I know.” Once upon a time, he would have relished in the fact someone was indebted to him, something he could use to dangle precariously over their heads when the time called for it. Perhaps, he may even feel the same way currently. With Lucinda as it stands, she has nothing he could possibly want and despite him questioning whether or not he was helping her out to prevent exposure of the wizarding world; He still found himself at a loss of how this benefits him.

Maybe the ministry would pardon me for my efforts. An unlikely scenario, especially when it involved something as benign as a muggle botanist. For the first time in quite a long time, he yearned for someone - and that someone was his dearest friend Ominis - when everything in the world didn’t make sense or if Sebastian was stuck with anything, it was always his dear friend ironing out the kinks, pulling apart theories and explanations so that Sebastian could understand.

If Ominis was here right now, he’d know what to do.

But he wasn’t, Sebastian Sallow was lonely as he was completely and utterly out of options. Lucinda Cornwall was doing more for him than she could ever hope to provide with her companionship alone.

“Where’d you go?” She was close, far closer than he had anticipated being lost in his thoughts. A head shorter than he was yet she somehow managed to command the air out of his lungs as though she were imposing (she wasn’t imposing in the slightest). Her bright hazel eyes scanned his face with a concentration that could be mistaken as her attempting to read his mind, alas she was merely searching for any sign of her companion behind the glaze of memory that trapped his thoughts temporarily.

“Far away.” He murmured, processing her closeness, the way it made him practically seize up but not in a fearful way. His equilibrium thoroughly waned with her not entirely unwanted intrusion of personal space, after all, she had shown compassion and concern toward him where many others failed to do so. Though, when his thoughts started to stray into the blanket of despair that was his memories, it was best he retreated. “I need to go—,”

She took a step back, as if startled by his abruptness.

”—F-for a walk… I’ll return I just - I just need to clear my head.”

She laughed. Not loudly or a lot, more like a chuckle that she tried to conceal with a hand over her mouth. When his eyebrows cocked in question she simply smiled, emanating such warmth and kindness, “of course, you needn’t tell me what it is you get up to, if I'm not in the house when you're back I’ll be in the greenhouse.”

[bonginspector]

My friend Sara is facing homelessness and needs your help, im posting on her behalf. She hasn’t asked me to and doesn’t know I am, I’m just someone who has been homeless and cares about other people. Below is the bio of her go fund me, she’s had a very rough year. Rent is due, y’all know how it is. Link will be at the bottom.

Hi all.

It is with a heavy heart that I am starting another fundraiser. Less than a month ago I started a fundraiser after an incident on December 23. My car was damaged when I ran a flat hitting a pothole, and without cell phone reception or a jack. As I was up a mountain on a forest road I was left with no other option than to drive on the rim to get to cell phone reception. This broke not only one but two axles on my car and rendered it with more mechanical damage and cosmetic issues. Devastatingly, yesterday January 11, my insurance company came with the final verdict: my car, not even a year old to me, has been deemed a total loss. I am now completely without wheels. I work a job that pays $7/ hour with barely any tips. I am walking 20.000-40.000 steps a day walking to work, walking at work, from work, doing errands, and walking my dogs, and it is all breaking me. This car loss comes atop a very traumatic half year. At the end of August, my husband and partner of 20 years abandoned me with no means. I was left unable to pay rent as I was a student only working part-time making 960/month and my rent is $1600. Then, a month later, my stepfather died suddenly and unexpectedly. As if that wasn't enough, my childhood friend killed himself in November, and my car got damaged in December. I've struggled to find a reliable roommate, and the one I had turned out to not be, and he broke the lease in December. I can not make this rent alone. My current job doesn't pay enough for me to sustain myself on my own.

The picture above is from dinner on my graduation day this past May, 2022. You see a pin on my blazer. That's a Phi Theta Kappa pin that I got when I graduated with the highest honors from the graphic design certificate program I attended. As a continuing student, I am still at a 4.0 GPA and with major scholarships. Sadly, this new situation is causing me to forfeit my school and scholarships. The only person who has offered to help me by providing a roof over my head and a safe place for me to rebuild my finances and self is my high school friend who lives in Morgantown, West Virginia. This fundraiser is created to help me avoid homelessness that will inevitably come if I can't get myself and my pets to Morgantown. I am needing to pay for a shipping container to move a small number of my belongings there. I will also need to rent a car, and pay for hotels/motels along the way. I am begging you and everyone you know to help me so that I don't have to give up my pets and move into a homeless shelter. Please help me get to my safe place — My friend's house in Morgantown, West Virginia.

Kindly but regretfully,

Sara

[scotianostra]

On January 15th 1968 a Hurricane devastates Scotland. 

The 1968 Hurricane Low Q was a deadly storm that moved through the Central Belt of Scotland during mid January 1968. It was described as Central Scotland's worst natural disaster since records began and the worst gale in the British Isles.

Around 250,000 homes were damaged across Scotland, resulting in almost 2,000 people becoming temporarily homeless. The storm, , arrived during the night, when most people were at home in bed, blowing in house and shop windows, tearing roofs off buildings and trees from the ground.

Our nation is no stranger to howling winds and dangerous weather, but this hurricane took twenty lives, nine in Glasgow alone.

Homes, shops, cars and churches were all desolated by the strong gusts brought on by Hurricane Low Q, they might have had crap names back then but it didn’t make them less dangerous, which first hit land through the night of 14 January 1968.

The Daily Record reported at the time that two mothers and their daughters died when a chimney head fell through a tenement on Dumbarton Road in the city. A mother and her three-year-old daughter from Swindon, Wiltshire, lost their lives, they had come to Glasgow for the  funeral of her mother, who died in a fire in Govan the previous Saturday. 

Also killed were Mrs Janet Gowran, 40, and her youngest daughter Nancy, 10.  A 5 year-old-girl was killed at her home in Port Street, Anderston and a 25-year-old pregnant nurse was lost her life when a chimney head crashed through her ground floor flat in North Kelvinside.

The freak hurricane also claimed the life of a 38-year-old woman   at Willowbank Street in Woodside, a 60-year-old woman at Niddrie Road, Crosshill and a man who lost his life at his home in Arlington Street, Charing Cross.

The chaos was referred to by police as worse than the Clydebank Blitz. The hurricane was the worst storm to hit the Scotland for 30 years, with winds of over 100 miles an hour.

In Glasgow 70,000 corporation houses were damaged, 1100 chimney heads collapsed and 69 tenement buildings eventually had to be demolished. I was not just the day after the storm that emergency services were busy. The clean-up lasted for days and weeks after and the Daily Record reported at the time that it would be nine months before telephone lines were restored! 

The damage cost the city millions of pounds.

The dates are all over the place with this one, you would think that it being so recent the event would have been well documented and dated, I could have posted this on any one of 6 days as that is how long the storm lasted in full.   Sources vary for the wind speeds as well but different areas were obviously more exposed, Glasgow seen highs of 103 mph while the Cairngorms got battered with an incredible 173 mph.

After the storm moved away, the death toll continued to rise. 30 people died from repairing houses so in total it caused 50 deaths. 

On 16th January 1968, about 150 troops from Edinburgh came to Glasgow to help with the clean-up operation. There was little national press coverage of the storm, despite it affecting most of northern England, Northern Ireland and Scotland. An interest-free loan of £500,000 was given by the Government to the affected areas. Singer Frankie Vaughan began to raise funds for the victims of the storm by holding a special concert at Alhambra Theatre in Glasgow.

The damage wasn’t contained to Glasgow in Edinburgh windows were blown in, roofs and trees were ripped up, cars were crushed and chimney stacks collapsed. Hundreds of people were left destitute and thousands more were left without power in the aftermath. A couple  were crushed to death by falling masonry when their chimney crashed through the roof of their home in Dalry.  The city’s Scott Monument lost one of the 80ft-high pinnacles from its first tier. It smashed a floodlight on its way down, embedding itself a foot into the ground, as seen in the last pic.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I had intended to post photos from the convention tonight, but honestly I am as too depressed.

To be clear, this was NOT the fault of the convention. It’s a lovely convention full of enthusiastic and friendly people. I’m sure the majority will remember it joyously, as they should.

Now I did go into the convention with several disadvantages. On top of the lack of sleep, the trip began with a flat tire! (What is it with me going to this convention and flat tires?!?!) My money situation was worse than I’d expected and I couldn’t get my blasted ankle brace and boots on without agony.

At the convention I had an extreme excess of pain and serious lack of funds, neither of which makes for a ton of fun when you are spending seven hours walking around in a room full of people selling very nice things they’ve frequently put their heart and souls into. I was walking about with my sleep deprived brain only able to focus on PAIN.

See, my nature is to wander around chatting with everyone I can. I then divide up what money I have and buy some little things from as many people as I can. The more love and enthusiasm they have, the less I worry about whether it’s my thing. Over the years I’ve bought a lot of really bad comics from people I want to encourage to keep creating.

This year I just didn’t have it in me. I didn’t have the energy. I especially didn’t have the money.

When I did I talked the pain was screeching away in the background. And when folks found out I was too broke to spend, they naturally would lose interest in chatting. Sometimes it wasn’t even about the money when they would turn away as I was mid sentence.

The problem is me. Boring, useless, broke me. I’m not interesting or funny or whatever it is people like. I can’t even plug into any fandom deeply enough to be embraced. I like geeky, nerdy stuff, but I don’t have a single passion.

In the past I have been better at this. Maybe it’s like when people starve for weeks they can’t launch into a four course meal. Their bodies can’t take it. I’ve finally gone too long on my, too little human connection. I’ve starved for people, and when thrown into a room of them I’m a wreck.

I dunno. A room full of people, and everyone either with or meeting up with someone. Families. Friends. It reminds me of my being alone.

I did try to call Mom at the con. I struggled to find a place away from all the noise, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t get her.

Somehow I just felt like such a damn freak. I wanted to feel a sense of belonging, amid folks that actually know the things I enjoy and many that actually make things. But even among geeks I’m a weirdo in so many ways. I won’t make a list. I’m too tired and sad. No point in dwelling on it. I belong nowhere. That’s just the nature of being me.

The trouble is a part of me lives in hope. I hope that this time someone will like me. This time I will make a friend. I will find some sense of connection, of belonging, a break from my isolation….

A bit much to ask of just seven hours wandering around a convention center full of strangers. I’m not special enough to pull that off. Weird, odd, but not appealing.

Again, just the nature of being me. All these decades it shouldn’t bother me. It bothers me

On a minor note about the con, my concern my Discworld shirt would inspire people to expect me to know about the subject proved utterly unfounded. I had several people ask me what the shirt was about, never having heard of Discworld or Terry Pratchett. If anyone knew they didn’t say anything. It’s a rather obscure fandom in these parts.

Anyway, this is too long a vent. The con is over for another year. I’m depressed and lonely and am feeling a sense of despair.

The central point is simply I am doomed to be an outsider. I feel a bit like someone that put their hand out as they were falling and failed to catch anything. Maybe I need to finally accept that there isn’t any point in trying anymore?

So back to another year of being alone in my hick town where not a damn person shares a single one of my interests, and 90% of my time is spent alone on the farm, in the woods or whatever.

Oh well. I’m not entirely alone. Maybe some of the animals sorta love me and I can “make friends” by sculpting them badly into being….

[punemy-spotted]

Hi Punemy. I just found one of your reboots on an It's a Wonderful Life post. And I was wondering how you're getting by now? I'm in a big corpo job and it doesn't pay enough to buy property too and I hit burnout. So I'm trying to figure out what people do to be happy out of traditionally "successful" roles and still. yknow. survive.

Hi friend. I'm so glad you reached out to me. I've... been having a lot of thoughts about this, so you'll see a rambling answer underneath the cut, because you're basically getting a distillation of my panicked 3am journaling.

In short: I wish I could tell you that I'm doing great or that I figured out the secret, because trust me, if I knew the secret I would share it so fast.

I thought I had my dream job when I landed an immigration lawyer position, except it burnt me out so badly I'm still traumatized from it, nearly two years later. Then I thought I landed my dream job in early 2023, when I got a great corporate counsel position with excellent pay and benefits... only to be forced out thanks to corporate nepotism and an industry I just... didn't fit in with.

I'm in therapy now, to deal with both of those things — both of those things and the burnout, but that's hand in fucked up hand, isn't it?

So you know what, I'm... not doing great.

And I think that's okay.

I'm so sorry to hear that you've burnt out. It's... hard. Incredibly hard. Therapy has helped me, and I think it would help anyone who has access to it — I can't recommend telehealth highly enough. The service I use right now is Sondermind, and it seems to be even more robust than my health insurance's website, for sure.

Beyond that...? Take it slow. If there's one thing I've learned since getting my license to practice law and bouncing from shitty firm to shitty firm, it's that I owe my employers only as much work as they pay me for. Nothing more and nothing less. And if I'm not finding joy in the work that I'm doing — be it the research or the culture — then it's time for me to bounce. I don't expect I'll ever own property, not unless my parents suddenly decide to retire back to India and leave me the house, and... that's okay. It has to be okay. It has to be okay because there are other things I can spend my money on. It has to be okay because the rainy day fund to sustain me while I'm unemployed is more important that the mortgage and the responsibilities I don't think I'm ready for. Maybe I'll be ready one day, or maybe I'll be fine in my tiny flat with my roommate and my collection of fountain pens.

Find joy in the world outside work. If you're paid for a 40-hour workweek, don't do more than that. Don't. Do, however, seek out friends. Go to museums and play silly games. Listen to music. Pick up a hobby. Go to therapy. Redefine what "success" means to you — when are you at your happiest?

I've been incredibly lucky to have a community of friends and family. I hope, truly and sincerely hope, that you also have a community of friends, Anonymous Friend. I hope you can lean on them when you need them. I hope they hold you up on your worst days and celebrate you on your best. Because there is no greater joy than having that community.

As for surviving outside of high-paying corporate jobs, honestly... I'm gonna say the cliché thing, which is that it's time for all of us to redefine survival. If we live in an era where owning property is no longer a part of our futures, then so be it. Tiny apartments it is — that doesn't mean you don't deserve to own your space for however long you live in it. Let every little joy build up on itself. Join a summer reading program and listen to audiobooks on your way to work, or call up your best friend on your way home. Take the time to look for work in fields you enjoy. Will you potentially take a pay cut? Maybe. But surviving on a smaller scale than what our parents had may just be what we have to do — and that's okay too. Maybe we'll make the world a better place for us down the line, but right now, we cling to what we have and survive.

Also, seriously, go to therapy. Can't recommend that enough.

I wish you well, friend. May you find strength and kindness in the many many years to come. And when it comes to burnout or bad days, remember, this too shall pass. And so too shall you, through it all.

[lenbryant]

No One Is Talking About What Ron DeSantis Has Actually Done to Florida

Media coverage of Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’s all-but-announced candidacy for president is already in full frenzy, and so far the script is exactly as his handlers would like it to be. The governor regularly opens up new fronts in the culture wars, sowing alarm over critical race theory, transgender rights, or border policies. In response, liberal pundits fall into the trap of accentuating the very issues DeSantis has chosen to fire up his base.

Omitted from the public debate about DeSantis’s policies is almost any discussion of his actual record of governance—what exactly he has delivered to the citizens of his state, especially those without seven-figure incomes and lush investment portfolios.

Even a cursory dip into the statistics of social and economic well-being reveals that Florida falls short in almost any measure that matters to the lives of its citizens. More than four years into the DeSantis governorship, Florida continues to languish toward the bottom of state rankings assessing the quality of health care, school funding, long-term elder care, and other areas key to a successful society.

Florida may be the place where “woke goes to die”—as DeSantis is fond of saying—but it is also where teachers’ salaries are among the lowest in the nation, unemployment benefits are stingier than in any other state, and wage theft flourishes with little interference from the DeSantis administration. In 2021, DeSantis campaigned against a successful ballot initiative to raise the state’s minimum wage, which had been stuck at $8.65 an hour. Under DeSantis’s watch, the Sunshine State has not exactly been a workers’ paradise.

Read More: Why “Woke” Is A Convenient Republican Dog Whistle

DeSantis weaponizes the cultural wars to distract attention from the core missions of his governorship, which is to starve programs geared toward bettering the lives of ordinary citizens so he can maintain low taxes on the wealthy and corporations. Florida is the ideal haven for privileged Americans who don’t want to pay their fair share of taxes. It has no income tax for individuals, and its corporate tax rate of 5.5% is among the lowest in the nation. An investigation by the Orlando Sentinel in late 2019 revealed the startling fact that 99% of Florida’s companies paid no corporate income tax, abetted by tax-avoidance schemes and state officials who gave a low priority to enforcing tax laws.

This is a pattern that shows up in the statistics of many Republican-led states, which on average commit fewer dollars per-capita to health care, public education, and other crucial services compared to their blue counterparts, while making sure corporations and wealthy individuals are prioritized for tax relief. Arizona cut taxes every year between 1990 and 2019, following up with a shift to a flat tax this year that will cost its budget $1.9 billion. Meanwhile, its public-school spending ranks 48 among the 50 states.

In Florida, the state’s tax revenues come largely through sales and excise taxes, which fall hardest on the poor and middle class. A 2018 study by the left-leaning Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy found that Florida had the third least-equitable tax system of the 50 states. In the state’s “upside-down” tax structure, the poorest 20% of Florida families paid 12.7% of their income in taxes, while the families whose income was in the top 4% paid 4.5%, and the top 1% paid 2.3%, according to the study.

Florida taxpayers get less for their money than residents of many other states. The Commonwealth Fund, a private foundation that studies health-care systems globally, found in its 2022 “scorecard” that Florida had the 16th worst health care among the 50 states. It’s no wonder that Florida ranks below the northern blue states in life expectancy and rates of cancer death, diabetes, fatal overdoses, teen birth rates, and infant mortality.

Largely because of DeSantis’s obstinacy, Florida is one of 10 states that have refused to expand Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act, an act of political spite that has cost those states billions in federal health care dollars and cost thousands of people their lives. More than 12% of Floridians are without medical insurance, a worse record than all but four other states. Despite having the country’s highest percentage of retirees, Florida has the worst long-term care among the 50 states, according to the American Association of Retired Persons.

Public schools fare no better than health care in DeSantis’s Florida. Not only did Florida rank 49th in the country for average teacher pay in 2020, but the Education Law Center, a non-profit advocacy group based in New Jersey, found in a 2021 report that the state had the seventh-lowest per-pupil funding in the country. Education Week, which ranks states public school annually, looking beyond mere test scores, placed Florida 23rd in its 2021 report, a lackluster showing for a large and wealthy state.

It says something about the state of our political discourse that Florida’s denuded public sector was not more of an issue in last year’s gubernatorial campaign. In endorsing DeSantis’s Democratic opponent, Charlie Crist, the Tampa Bay Times spent so many column inches on the incumbent’s demagoguery, vindictiveness, and authoritarian tendencies that it never even got to the minutiae of his governance. “No matter what you think about the state of the Florida economy or its schools or its future…,” the paper wrote, “the choice really is this simple: Do you want the state governed by a decent man or a bully?”

To be fair to the media, DeSantis and his allies manned the trenches of the culture wars so ferociously that it was all reporters could do to keep up with all the bomb throwing. How do you delve into the state’s tax policy when your governor is flying planeloads of migrants to Martha’s Vineyard or declaring war on Disney for issuing a statement in opposition to the state’s so-called “Don’t Say Gay Law”?

But that is very much the point of wedge issues, as they have been wielded by scurrilous politicians for decades, to anger and distract voters so they won’t notice the actions of public officials that mainly benefit the wealthy and are against the public interest.

As the 2024 election draws closer, DeSantis must not be allowed to accomplish nationally what he did in his state—cloak his service to the wealthy by frightening working people with stories about transgender recruiting and “socialist” college professors. There are unmistakable signs that Americans are focused on what an activist government can do for the public good, as evidenced by Floridians’ vote to increase the minimum wage.

The failure of DeSantis to better serve the most vulnerable citizens of his state is his weak underbelly in a national campaign.

TIME Magazine

BY WILLIAM KLEINKNECHT MARCH 29, 2023 7:00 AM EDT

Kleinknecht is a longtime political journalist and author of States of Neglect: How Red-State Leaders Have Failed Their Citizens and Undermined America