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ironstrange1991 · 1 year ago

Text

Just As Good As I knew It Would Be

Pairing: Defender!Strange x SexWorker!Reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be just another night with a new client, but Defender Strange was unlike any other and he definitely had other plans.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Descriptions of sex work, one or two use of the word 'whore', hickeys and lovebites, oral sex with male and female receiving, protected p n v sex.

A/N: This was planned to be a one shot, but I can easily see this story continuing, so it's up to you guys. Also, I was literary falling asleep over my laptop when I posted this so any typos or grammar errors I will fix tomorrow.

When the weight of his body left you and rolled to the side on the bed, you sighed in relief and also turned to the side, taking a cigarette from the package on the bedside table, lighting it and taking a long drag. It was still one o'clock in the morning and you had a client scheduled for 2:30 and before that you needed a long shower to get rid of all the sweat stuck to your skin.

He was a nice guy, plenty of money to spend since he paid for an hour with you almost every week. He was lonely and with the sweat problem you could understand why. You just couldn't remember his name. Andrew? No, Andrew was the one from last night. Nice guy, a little clingy but nice. Would it then be William? Fuck, it didn't matter anyway, you never called them by their names for that very reason.

Madam Elise always said that there was no other way to permanently lose a client than to call them by the wrong name. It's easier to call them all by the same pet name, she always says, and that's what you do. They were all Baby, for you. And they liked it very much.

"I would like you to stay the night with me." He murmured stroking your arm. "I like to think I'm more than just a client to you."

And didn't all of them like to think that way? You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes and took another drag from your cigarette.

"You're too good for this job. I can give you the stability you need..."

"Okay, baby, let's get one thing straight once and for all." You interrupted him, putting out your cigarette in the ashtray and getting up. "I'm not interested in a relationship. Certainly not with one of my clients. And I don't need a man to save me from the life I live because, surprise! I like this life.”

He remained silent, watching as you got dressed and when you finished putting on your shoes he stood up, took out his wallet and took out a few hundred bills.

"Baby, I don't deal with money. I thought you had paid at the club."

He nodded "I did. This is extra."

You smirked, taking the money and putting it inside your bag. "You spoil me."

He smiled. "You deserve it, Y/n. When will we see each other again?"

"Madam Elise takes care of my schedule. But from what I know, it's full until next weekend."

He seemed extremely disappointed.

"But I'm sure she can fit you in some night for an extra fee."

"Money is not a problem." He stated cupping your cheek and threatening to kiss you, but you were quick to pull away from him.

"Then I'll see you next week. Take care."

"My driver will take you back to the club." He informed.

"Thanks, baby. Have a good night."

...

Madam Elise was busy taking care of the Absinthe's accounting after the doors closed. It was already past 3am and the girls were leaving. The night had been very profitable, everything had gone normally, without any mishaps and the girls seemed happy.

Throughout her life, Madam Elise worked at night and with her own effort founded the Absinthe Nightclub, which today has the status of the largest and most renowned nightclub in New York City. No less than 25 girls, 12 dancers, 3 singers, and an entire band worked for her, not counting the waiters, bartenders, security guards, secretaries, suppliers and everything else. It was a big business that she commanded with mastery and love.

However, that night, she was tired and could hardly wait to finally leave the place and go home. She was closing the register when Aline, her personal secretary who helps her take care of the girls' schedules, came to her excitedly.

"You won't believe who called asking for Y/n."

"Whoever it is, her schedule is full until the end of next week." Madam Elise answered nonchalantly, but Aline didn't seem any less excited and handed over a sheet of paper with a name and telephone number written on it.

"That's what I told him, but he didn't seem to mind waiting. He asked us to come back with an all-night date."

"A whole night?" Madam Elise asked surprised. "Does he know her price?"

"He mentioned that money is not a problem." Aline responded, smiling as if just talking to the man had already turned her his biggest fan.

"Why Y/n? Did he ask for her specifically or did you recommend her?"

Aline shook her head "He asked for her and only her. It must have been someone else’s recommendation."

"I highly doubt it." That was all Madam Elise responded to Aline's speculation. "Call him tomorrow, schedule him for the night."

Aline looked at her as if she had said the most absurd thing. "Should I reschedule everyone else? They won't be happy."

"No, but they will accept it. Y/n has already captivated them for life. Now a new client like this one..." She stared at the name scribbled on the sheet of paper. "This is a customer we still need to captivate."

Aline nodded, but continued standing there as if she wanted to ask or say something.

"What is it?" Madam Elise asked impatiently.

"Does madam think he will come here?"

"Don't be silly, of course not. A man like him has an image to maintain. She will go to him."

...

When you woke up the next day, the sun was coming in from behind the gaps in the heavy curtains in your room and it was already past 2PM. The routine of sleeping when it was almost dawn and waking up in the middle of the afternoon was the least rewarding part of the job, but it was something you had to get used to.

You had a very chaotic routine, but you couldn't think of another way to live. Your work has provided you with a beautiful apartment and all the luxury you could have dreamed of, and most importantly, freedom.

You didn't depend on anyone but yourself and contrary to what many might think, you didn't feel used. In fact most of the time you felt like a pop star, with men lining up to have a special appointment with you.

After taking a shower and spending a long time on skin care, you went down to have breakfast - which was actually always afternoon coffee - and took the opportunity to take a look at your schedule. There were two new customers you were excited to meet. One of them was a jazz singer, the other was a politician. A deputy, if you weren't mistaken.

"More coffee, ma'am?" Karen, your maid asked gently.

"Yes please."

Karen had been working for you for a little over a year. It was actually Madam Elise's idea for you to have someone to take care of the house and you, but you suspected that Karen also did a second job: spying on you for her. You would be eternally grateful for everything Madam Elise did for you, but sometimes the woman was too controlling and a little scary. Not that you cared, it wasn't like you had anything to hide.

"Karen, remind me again how you met Madame Elise." You asked, still looking through the names on your cell phone’s notepad and taking a bite of your toast.

"It's been so long, dear, I don't even remember exactly, but I think it was a few years a go when I worked at the nightclub" The old woman responded evasively.

"Hmm" You were sure the last time you asked she said they met each other at a job interview and not once she mentioned she worked at the Absinthe.

"Oh, I almost forgot it! Madam Elise called and asked you to call back as soon as you woke up. She said there were changes in your schedule for the night."

"No, come on! I was looking forward to meeting the deputy." You murmured, finishing your coffee and already calling her.

When you arrived at the Absinthe to get ready, it was already past 6PM and you still didn't know who the special client was that made Madam Elise cancel and reschedule everyone else. She refused to speak on the phone and emphasized that you should spend some extra time taking care of yourself because this client deserved the best.

So you took a bubble bath with some special bath salts, were extra careful with your skin care, using your best oils and creams. Your hair, which you had decided to leave loose and straight, you ended up wrapping in curlers and clips so that you could finish it when you arrived at the nightclub, as well as your makeup, which Madam Elise made a point of saying on the phone that she would do herself.

"I don't know why so much suspense." You said as she finished preparing your skin with foundation.

"You'll understand when you get there." She answered.

"How about this one?" Sofia, one of the new girls who worked with you asked, holding a hanger with a very short strapless red dress.

"No. Too much." Madam Elise replied.

"How about this other one?" Sofia asked showing off a long black dress with an extravagant slit.

"Too much, Sofia. What part of elegant and discreet don't you understand?" Madam Elise responded sharply.

"It would help if you say who the client is." Sofia complained.

"That's what I'm trying to find out." You said taking advantage of Sofia's complaint. "Oh, I got it, He is a rockstar, isn’t he? Don't tell me it's Bono!"

Sofia stared at Madam Elise, waiting for an answer.

“It's not Bono. And he's not a rockstar. He's better than that."

"How about this one?" Sofia showed off a rose midi dress that looked like something Kate Middleton would wear to one of her official events.

"Perfect!" Madame Elise exclaimed, finishing applying the third layer of mascara to your eyelashes.

"Please don't say it's the president. He's too old." You whimpered.

"Don't be silly, Y/n." That's all she replied.

"Older men make the best clients." Sofia reflected as she hung the dress on the chair next to you. "They are kind and don't usually last long. Not to mention they pay extras."

"Girl, You're learning fast!" You praised.

"Learning from the best." Sofia said giving you a wink and you two giggled.

"Perfect. Now let's let this hair down." Madam Elise said as she took the clips out of your hair and used a comb to straighten your curls. She finished with a setting spray and only then let you look in the mirror. The whole thing seemed too much to you, but you didnt say anything.

"Now finish getting dressed. A car is waiting for you outside. The driver knows where to drop you off."

"Yes ma'am."

Surprising you, Madam Elise leaned over and gave you a small kiss on the cheek in a rare display of affection.

"Good luck, my darling."

...

When the driver stopped in front of the old building, you couldn't help but think he had gotten the address wrong.

"Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"177A Bleecker Street. That's the exact address Madam Elise gave me. Do you want me to call her to check?"

You shook your head "No. It's okay. Thank you." You said, opening the door and getting out of the car.

"Should I pick you up in an hour?" He asked.

"No. He paid for the night." You informed, closing the door.

You walked up the steps slowly, somewhat intimidated by the oppressiveness of the place and trying to convince yourself that this was really happening, but when you approached the door, it opened on its own and you were overcome with the realization that you were about to spend the night with none other than Defender Strange himself.

As soon as you entered, the door closed behind you and you stood in the empty entrance hall somewhat disconcerted and not knowing what to do next. It took what seemed like an eternity until you were greeted by a baritone voice.

"Hello. I'm sorry, I was sure the woman I talked to this morning told me you would arrive at 9pm" He said going down the stairs and coming towards you. He was dressed exactly as you had seen him on TV or in the newspapers. Black and red robes, boots and hair tied in a ponytail, but gosh, the TV and newspapers didn't do justice to his beauty. Defined jaw, sharp cheekbones, plump lips and beautiful blue eyes. The man was gorgeous.

"I'm sure Madam Elise wouldn't get confused with my schedule. You must have spoken to Aline, her personal secretary." You said, feeling your cheeks turning red from the strange situation and also from the way he glared at you.

"Well, I have no reason to complain if her mistake gave me more time with you." He smirked, extending his hand for you to hold and bringing it to his lips. You knew that if it was any other man doing that you would roll your eyes at how cliché and ridiculous the gesture was, but with him all you could think about was how elegant and gentle he was. He just seemed so calm and kind.

"I'm sure you already know me, but let me formally introduce myself. Doctor Stephen Strange, or how my friends call me, Defender Strange, but you can call me Stephen."

You smiled "It's a pleasure to meet you, Stephen. I'm Y/n, but of course you already know that."

His smile widened "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Y/n." He kept your hand in his. "Come, this is my house." He said gesturing ahead and taking you to the lounge and you found yourself analyzing every detail. The place was beautiful. It definitely wasn't to your taste, but it had a certain charm. Everything looked ancient, from the extravagant chandeliers to the reddish wooden furniture, everything seemed to have been there for many, many years.

"It's very nice." You said, still dazzled by every detail that was visible to you. The place was huge. "Do you live alone here?"

"Yes. I am the master of this Sanctum and therefore I live here. It is old and makes strange noises at night, but you learn to like it over time." He seemed to analyze your expressions carefully.

"But it must be lonely living alone in such a big place." You insisted, still amazed by the size of the place and you had only seen the foyer and the lounge.

Stephen smirked "It's rarely empty and work takes up most of my days, so I don't have time to feel lonely."

"Hmm."

"Please, sit. May I offer you something to drink?"

"Sure." You said, sitting on the beautiful victorian sofa.

"Wine? Maybe something stronger?"

"Wine is great."

He nodded. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a moment."

You did as he asked and as soon as he left, he returned with two glasses and a bottle of red wine which he opened and poured.

"I'm curious" You said, taking the glass he handed to you. "How do you know me? I mean, Madam Elise told me you asked for me specifically."

He smiled and took a long sip of wine.

"It's a long story. The short version is that a friend of mine told me about you."

"Is he a client?"

He chuckled, "I don't really know. I'm just glad he lead me to meet you."

You sipped the wine slowly, savoring the sweet on your tongue as much as you were savoring the enigmatic company of the man in front of you. However he downed the last of his wine and stood up.

"If you allow me, I need to finish a few things before I can dedicate myself entirely to you. Please, make yourself at home. Choose something for us to listen to, if you like music. I have a large collection. I'm sure something will please you."

With that he walked away, disappearing from sight and leaving you alone in the huge lounge.

You did what he suggested. You refilled your glass and ventured into the huge shelf of music in front of you, which to your surprise were not CDs but LPs. You got distracted reading the titles. He had a little bit of everything, from classical to pop music, including R&B and Hip Hop, classic rock and industrial metal and other things you didn't even know.

You opted for Bon Jovi and left it playing at a pleasant ambient volume and distracted yourself by scrolling through your Instagram feed for what seemed like a long time.

When he returned, he was no longer dressed in his sorcerer robes, but rather in dark jeans and a gray shirt. His hair, however, was still tied up in a ponytail and you found yourself thinking that any man in the world would look ridiculous with that hair, but not him.

"Bon Jovi. Good choice."

"A little cheesy, but I like it." You confessed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who had so much physical music in the days of streaming services."

He chuckled. "Let's just say I'm old-fashioned. I'm not given to technology."

"No, just magic, I presume." You teased, getting up and approaching him, deciding to take the initiative. Men usually liked you to take the initiative, but with him you weren't too sure, but you had already waited too long and to be quite honest, you were eager to finally start the night.

"Are you going to show me some tonight?" You asked in your most seductive voice, and he let you snuggle into his arms and leaned his face against your hand when you touched him and finally, finally, he kissed you. A soft kiss, as if he was tasting a forbidden fruit, but you were eager to deepen the kiss, eager to finally claim him as one of your most valuable conquests.

His lips were thick and soft, his tongue tasted like wine and something else you couldn't identify and the touch of his beard on your face was delicious.

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this turned on by a kiss, but you could feel the slick between your legs. However, he pulled away gently when your hands threatened to unbutton his shirt.

"I can show you one or two things, but I'd like us to have dinner first." He said. "We don't need to rush, we have the whole night ahead of us."

But you had no intention of stopping now, not when your lips were finally on his mouth, down his chin and then his neck, nibbling his ear lobe. "I'm not hungry. Not for food at least." You whispered in his ear and watched him swallow thickly, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you away gently.

"I must insist."

You nodded a little confused, but let yourself be pulled into what soon turned out to be the dining room. The table was set and the food smelled wonderful. You hadn't really noticed that you were hungry until now, but it shouldn't have been a surprise since you had barely eaten all day.

He pulled out the chair for you to sit down and confessed. "I bought the food from my favorite Italian restaurant. I hope you don't mind. I would have cooked, but I didn't have time."

But he knew how to cook. Noted.

You smiled reassuringly, "It's great. It's more than I expected to be honest. Men don't usually serve me dinner. It's usually the other way around, you know?" You chuckled.

He poured your glass and his and then sat down too. "Men rarely know how to value what they have."

You felt your cheeks blushing and disguised it by taking a sip of wine.

"Well, they pay two thousand dollars for the hour." You said finally trying the food. "Wow, this is delicious."

He smiled satisfied and only them allowed himself to start eating too. "I'm not talking about money. For me, having the company of a woman, whether I paid for her or not, is always a privilege.

You stared at him and then gave in to your curiosity. "I wonder why a man like you needs to pay for a woman."

He didn't seem surprised or bothered by the question. He chewed slowly and swallowed, wiped his lips on his napkin and took a sip of his wine and then said simply. "I don't have to pay for women. But I had to pay to have the woman I wanted."

You felt your stomach fluttering at those words and something about the way he glanced at you and said it made you blush, and you smiled shyly. "I hope I'm worth it."

...

After dinner you convinced him to take you on a small tour of the house and your admiration for the place only increased with each new room that was presented to you.

"This is the library." He said, opening the two wooden doors and indicating for you to enter. He entered right behind you and waited in silence while you swept the place with your eyes.

It was ancient and beautiful, like you expected the library of an old castle or something to be like. So many shelves of books that went from floor to ceiling and small ladders supported on the shelves so that people could get books from higher places. There were also small desks scattered around the place and a larger one in the left corner with a large wooden and leather chair. Some books, paper and pen and a pair of reading glasses on top of it.

"It's my second favorite place in the house." He reported proudly, "It's also where I spend most of my time when I'm not on a mission."

You nodded, walking slowly down one of the corridors and trying to read the titles of the books. Most of them were written in other languages. "Which is the first?"

He smiled getting closer and when he spoke again his voice sounded dangerously close to your ear "I'll show you."

You felt your skin prickle and that didn't go unnoticed by him. He held your shoulders and got close enough for you to feel his body pressed against yours. His fingers slowly pulled the strap of your dress and only then did you notice a tremor in his hands, but before you could ask yourself what had happened to them, he started to place little kisses on your shoulder and little by little he raised them to your neck and you completely forgot what you were thinking.

The little kisses went up to your ear and he nibbled your earlobe and exhaled heavily as if he had been holding his breath for a long time and your body trembled with the sensation of his warm breath.

Without holding back, you turned to face him and pulled him into a kiss and your lips collided with a passion that surprised you. His tongue invaded your mouth and dominated yours easily and your fingers were quick to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, while his fingers unzipped your dress and the two of you desperately undressed without your mouths separating for even a second. Suddenly the idea of being apart from him seemed absurd and you were surprised by the overwhelming passion that took over you. It was as if the two of you were live wires that had finally touched and were now joined by an electric current of passion and lust.

When your dress was lying on the floor and your hands managed to free him from his pants and finally free his cock from his boxers, you pumped him a few times reveling in the realization that he was as big as you needed him to be. He rested his forehead on yours, closing his eyes and indulging in the touch of your hand and you cupped his face and pulled him back to your lips.

"I've waited for this for so long." He rasped in your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the floor. You locked your legs around his waist, and he carried you to the largest desk and quickly finished undressing you, but made a point of keeping your high heels on.

He kicked his shoes away and did the same with his pants and boxers, leaving him gloriously naked for you and you watched in fascination as he moved his fingers and a condom materialized in thin air. He opened it quickly with his teeth and put it in with a certain desperation and finally entered you.

You both moaned at the sensation and you held yourself on to the edge of the desk as he thrusted against you with a certain desperation that was surprising and at the same time delicious. The sound of your bodies slamming against each other mixed with your moans and echoed through the empty library.

Your head fell back and he took the opportunity to bury his face between your breasts and took one nipple in his mouth and then another.

"Fuck..." You cursed out and then bit your lips to contain your moans, but they kept escaping as he fucked you so good and with so much passion and you suddenly noticed that you weren't forcing a positive reaction to please him. If anything, you were surprised with yourself, at how he was making you feel.

Your hand grabbed his hair and pulled him back to your lips and he kissed you passionately, thrusting his tongue into your mouth with the same desperation with which he thrusted his cock inside you. Fast, intense and delicious.

He broke the kiss only to run his lips down your neck and pushed you gently so that you lay down on the desk and pulled your hips closer to the edge and with a hand flat on your lower belly he returned to thrust into you and the variation of the position made him hit your g spot with calculous precision and your mouth went agape.

Men didn't usually find your g spot and didn't even bother trying, always desperate to achieve their own pleasure, but he was different, somehow he was different from everyone else.

"Stephen... You're going to make me cum."

You confessed surprise at how the knot seemed to tighten in your stomach. "Do you want me to cum, baby?"

He didn't respond, too involved in his own pleasure, but he put a hand between you touching your clit and rubbing his fingers there in slow circles and that was enough of an answer for you and your body responded to the stimulation quickly pulling you to the edge.

You came hard and he came soon after.

When he finished, he pulled you to meet his lips and something about the sweetness of that kiss made your heart flutter in your chest in a way you hadn't felt in a long time, but you were too caught up in all the sensations to pay attention to what they meant.

It was you who broke the kiss to breathe and he gently pulled out and quickly got rid of the dirty condom with a flick of his fingers and ran his hand through his hair, tucking the strands that came loose from the ponytail behind his ear and then smiled seeming a little embarrassed.

"This wasn't how I imagined." He said and upon noticing how that sentence could be interpreted in a wrong way he ran to explain "I thought I could get to the room. Give you a little comfort at least."

You stood up and approached him, cupping his cheek gently. "Believe me, you gave me something much better." You said letting out a small chuckle and pulling him back to your lips and something between his little moan and how his hand hold you closer to him made you feel like he was melting for you.

"Now will you show me your favorite place in the house?" You asked giving him your cutest smile and he nodded smiling.

"Anything you want."

The two of you got dressed in silence, but the silence wasn't awkward, in fact it was full of smiles and glances, and you found yourself thinking that you didn't remember the last time you felt like that, like you were on a real date rather than being with a client.

Either way, you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, remembering very well Madam Elise's words: No matter how incredible a client is, never forget they are just that: a client. Because they will never forget that you are a whore.

You sighed, letting the silly smile on your lips slowly die.

Stephen led you up the stairs and you walked behind him down a long hallway until you stopped in front of a large door, but before he opened it he turned to you and gently informed, "Many of the artifacts you will see in this room are magical and their value is immeasurable. I must ask you not to touch anything."

"Geez, I'm not that clumsy, Stephen." You defended yourself giving him your best smile.

"Please" He insisted.

"Okay, no touching." You promised, showing your hands to him and holding them behind your back dramatically. He smirked and then nodded opening the door and the two of you slowly entered. He snapped his fingers and the lights came on so you could actually look at the place.

It was a large and spacious room full of pedestals with vases and other objects on top, some were protected by glass, others were not. Everything seemed so old, from the heavy amber curtains and the gold and burgundy carpets to the cabinets and book shelves, the paintings on the walls and the ostentatious chandelier in the center of the ceiling. There was a fireplace surrounded by two loveseats and a fluffy dark brown rug. On the floor, next to the rug, there were some books and a forgotten tea cup.

But all of this was nothing compared to the beautiful round window that gave a beautiful view of Greenwich Village. "Wow, this is beautiful."

You approached the window to take a look outside where cars were rushing past. You had already seen that window from the outside, not to mention they sold postcards of the city with the front of the Sanctum Sanctorum printed on them, but being inside, observing the outside through that window was something else entirely.

"I usually come here when I need to think or just disconnect from my sorcerer problems." He explained, approaching you from behind and wrapping his arms around your waist. "This window is special, it allows me to see more of what is in front of me."

You raised an eyebrow "Is this some wizard code for something?"

He chuckled in your ear making your body tingle and then pointed to the window "This pattern is the seal of Vishanti, I don't expect you to know what it means, but it is very important and protects the Sanctum from various types of threats."

You nodded, looking at the intricate symbol in the window, but more precisely looking at him, so serious when he was talking about his work and so beautiful with that long hair, the gray strands just made him even more attractive and the beard, those cheekbones and the eyes...

"The window of worlds allows me to see other realities and dimensions. Some are pleasant to look at, benevolent so to speak, so you can easily get lost while watching them, others are dark and frightening, but it is my job to observe them and assure that everything remains in its natural state, without interference in our real world."

You smiled shyly admitting, "It's hard to combine the things you're explaining with the term real world. I live in the real world, this is… something else."

He let out a small laugh and then buried his nose in your hair and inhaled deeply, "You weren't real to me until tonight."

You turned to look at him "You talk about me like you know me."

He sighed, closing his eyes when your hand cupped his cheek, but before you could ask anything he pulled you to his lips and you felt your entire body shaking with that kiss, your heart pounding in your head as you gave in to the certainty that there was more than just sex involved tonight, even though you knew it was crazy, you couldn't help but feel that way. He was different, special and it wasn't because of who he was or the things he could do - magically speaking - but rather because of the way he could turn you into a puddle of goo with a look, a smile, a touch of his trembling hands and that kiss.

He was the one who broke the kiss first and before he could pull away, you pulled him to your lips again kissing him one more time. He smiled satisfied pulling away, but made sure to keep holding your hand and gently directed you to the rug next to the fireplace.

You watched him get rid of his shoes and did the same, letting your sore feet be caressed by the softness of the rug.

"I usually meditate here." He said, picking up the cup from the floor and disposing of it with a movement of his hand. "And I read. It helps keep me grounded. It's where I can have privacy, besides my room, of course."

You nodded, sitting on the carpet and reaching out to pick up one of the books, but he quickly took them out of your reach and returned them to the bookshelf.

"I'm surprised I can touch you, since everything here is sacred." You teased watching as he sat next to you, his hands automatically pulled you close and his fingers played with the strap of your dress pulling it down and placing little kisses on your shoulder. With his other hand he started to unzip your dress on your back and you felt your skin prickling.

"I am not sacred." He explained, searching for your lips and kissing you hungrily "Actually, I'm very human..." He continued kissing you, but his hands helped you get rid of the straps of your dress, letting it fall to your waist and undressing your breasts to him as he held one of them in his hand, pinching a nipple "...with human needs that I want you to satisfy."

You intertwined your fingers in his hair when his lips went down to your neck and he began to suck on your throat. He stopped and admired his work and then continued making sure the mark stayed.

"Y-you... can't..." You tried to warn him in vain when you finally noticed what he was doing, but he covered your lips with his index finger and continued until he was satisfied.

"What can't I do?" He asked with a cute smirk on his lips once he was satisfied with his work.

You swallow thickly feeling drunk, even though all you had drank that night was three glasses of wine.

"Mark me." You finally managed to say and his smirk turned into a grin.

"Too late for that, baby. Skin is very nice and soft, can't help it." And as if to prove what he was saying, he lightly bit the spot just below your ear and then sucked on the skin, eliciting a moan from your lips.

You couldn't tell what he had, but he managed to mess with you in a way that you couldn't understand, you could either think straight or formulate a coherent sentence while he had his lips on you. He made you melt, all your self-confidence and control seemed to melt before him.

"What's going on inside this pretty head of yours?" He asked, biting your chin and sticking his tongue in your mouth in another breathtaking kiss.

You hummed into his lips and tried to formulate a response when he finally broke the kiss.

"You. Right now, there is only you."

He smiled proudly, "Yeah? But there's another place I'd rather be at the moment."

You bit your bottom lip and waited for him to tell you.

"With my face between your legs." He rasped in your ear "Would you like that?"

God yes, please. But you just nodded letting yourself be manhandled as he laid you down on the fluffy rug and finished taking off your dress and panties. Your legs hung to the sides and he didn't wait to dive between them, lapping his tongue into your folds to make you even wetter than you already were.

He used his fingers to open your folds and licked your clit lightly with the tip of his tongue making your entire body tremble, your hands searched for something to grab and stopped in his hair, grabbing his ponytail, but you policed yourself to don't pull.

"Oh fuck... oh yes, yes..."

He hummed approvingly at your reaction and the vibration made your body shake. Without waiting any longer, he took your clit between his lips and began to suck slowly and then increasing the pressure and you saw stars.

You loved oral sex, but the men you had sex with never cared enough to waste time pleasuring you like this, after all they were paying a lot of money, it was understandable they preferred to receive rather than give, but Defender Strange was different from all of your other clients, he was actually taking pleasure in giving pleasure to you and he was wonderful. You couldn't remember the last time you had your clit sucked with such dexterity, if anyone had ever managed to reach that level of excellence, that is, and your clit suckers could only do so much and were nothing compared to the real thing and Stephen, oh god, Stephen was even better than the real thing. He was perfect.

You could feel the knot inside you threatening to break, your legs shaking under the grip of his hands and the next thing you knew you were tugging at his hair, the hair tie came loose in your hand and you finished getting rid of it letting his soft locks fall like a curtain of dark brown and gray.

Of course he could feel you were close, your body was shaking, your breathing was faster, your wet, neglected hole was clenching around nothing and your moans were getting louder and louder, but then he stopped, brought his hand down to his hair moving them away from his face and stared at you with those blue eyes and a satisfied smile on his lips that somehow took your breath away.

"Please... don't..." You could barely speak.

"I don't want you to cum yet." He confessed and then crawled on top of you "You're so delicious, you know that, right?"

You pulled him to your lips instead of responding. The taste of your cunt in his mouth was so obscene and so delicious that you couldn't control a moan. He chuckled between your lips letting you control the kiss for the first time that night. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you couldn't resist, you pulled just a little to see his reaction and to your surprise and delight he moaned, a loud and unmistakable moan.

When your lips parted, he glanced at you and you took the opportunity to caress his face, tracing the outline of his beard with your finger.

"You're so beautiful." You confessed "You're even more beautiful in person than on TV."

He let out a little giggle and you could see a light shade of pink fill his cheeks and you thought it was adorable.

He kissed your lips softly and held your chin between his thumb and forefinger "You're beautiful. You have the most beautiful pair of eyes I've ever seen and your smile... it does things to me."

You smiled shyly with the way he was glancing at you and then watched as he seemed to go somewhere else in his mind for a second but soon after he smiled back. "Where have you been all this time?" He asked.

You weren't sure what to say, so you just pulled him to your lips again and kissed him, feeling a strange sensation in your stomach. His lips moved down your chin and he touched your lips with his thumb, gently forcing them apart. You took his digit in your mouth and sucked on it, teasing him to which he smirked.

"I want your mouth now." He asked, taking his finger out of your mouth and replacing it with his tongue and kissed you hard.

You cupped his cheek and asked, "Tell me how you like it."

There were many things you could do with a man's cock in your mouth and you mastered that art masterfully, but with him you were insecure, you couldn't read him and while that was frustrating, it was also what made it all the most exciting.

"Do you ask this of all your clients?" He asked, looking genuinely curious.

You shook your head "No. Usually I know what they like right away, but you... you're different."

He seemed to like your answer. He rolled onto his side and lay on his back on the carpet. "You can start by undressing me and then you can take good care of me."

You sat down next to him and let your fingers run down his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Do you like being taken care of?" You checked.

"Very much."

You unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the fabric aside and placing kisses on his chest, lowered your hand to his belt and bit your lip, noticing his hard on contained inside his pants. It twitched with the lightest of touches from your fingers and you couldn't help the proud smile on your lips. You moved to straddle his legs and unbuckled his belt and pants and with both hands you pulled down his pants and boxers, moving to take them off completely and throwing them in a pile on the floor.

You went back to straddling his legs and finally laid your eyes on his cock. You had felt him in your hands and felt him impaling you, but it was the first time you were looking directly at him and god, it was beautiful. The curvature that let it lean towards his stomach and the veins bulging around it combined with the fat, pink head made your mouth water. He was pulsing and leaking from the head and without holding back you bent down and licked the slit to collect the precum and it tasted so good. Salt and sweet at the same time.

"I can take care of you." You purred. "Just tell me exactly how you like it."

He bit his bottom lip to hold back a moan when you finally took him in your hand, holding him tight.

"Slowly. There's no need to gag on it, just take as much as you can. And I will love if you suck my balls, lightly, I'm very sensitive there."

You listened carefully. All you wanted was to please him.

"Can I make you cum in my mouth?"

"Fuck, yes" He replied and his cock twitched in your hand.

"But there will be another round for me, right?" You confirmed, smiling mischievously.

"As many as you want." He promised.

Your mouth was salivating to have him, but you started slowly, just giving little cat licks on the head and running your tongue down his entire length while your eyes remained fixed on his. If there was one thing that was certain about all men, it's that they love it when you suck their dicks while looking at them with big dull eyes. Defender Strange was no exception. He bit his lip to try to suppress a groan and his hands grabbed the fur on the rug.

You contained a giggle watching his reaction and continued with your work, lowering your tongue to the base and then taking one of his heavy balls in your mouth. You sucked slowly and then took the other one and repeated the same process while your hand moved up and down, slowly pumping him.

"Oh fuck, it's so good." He praised you and you felt that strange feeling in your stomach again, quickly realizing that you liked hearing him praising you and trying your best to have more of that.

You moved your lips up, placing small wet kisses along his entire length and stopped at his frenulum, licking it lightly with the tip of your tongue. For most men, the frenulum was the most sensitive part of their cocks and gave them the most pleasure when stimulated, however it used to be neglected most of the time by women, but you weren't like all women, you knew how to pleasure a man and there was nothing you wanted more than to pleasure Stephen. Not only that, you wanted to be the best he ever had.

You alternated the licks with light sucks on the delicate area and he began to writhe beneath you, moans began to escape his lips and you noticed how his baritone was even sexier in that context.

"Oh, right there, f-feels so good. J-just keep doing what you're doing with your tongue." He asked and you hummed satisfied, flicking your tongue in his frenulum and with one of your hands you began to massage his balls, giving them a light squeeze. With the other hand you continued pumping him at the base and he started to pulse in your hand and you knew that if you didn't reduce the stimulation he would cum before you even put him in your mouth, but you didn't care, you wanted to see him cumming like that, you wanted to prove to him that you were that good, so you increased the stimulation on his frenulum, changing the light licks for a more efficient suction while still using your tongue, but now not quickly, but like a kiss, slowly and with more passion.

"You're going to make me cum if you keep this up." He rasped bringing his hands to your head, but he didn't push or pull, he just grabbed your hair in a ponytail to move it away from your face and allow him to have a good view of what you were doing. Men were visual creatures.

"Do you want me to stop?" You asked, stopping to make sure, but he shook his head vehemently.

"Please, don't stop. Just keep working your tongue like that."

You did as he asked, but stopped pumping him and let his cock fall heavily onto his stomach, using only your mouth to stimulate him and your hand on his balls.

You licked, sucked, kissed his frenulum and started all over again until his grip on your hair got stronger, pulling at the roots and with a loud moan he came on his stomach.

"F-fuck yes. Oh shit... oh baby..."

You couldn't contain the smile on your lips when you saw him in that state, you were so proud of yourself, and you hadn’t even put him in your mouth. The man was so sensitive to touch, you wanted to ravish him so much.

You crawled on top of him and he cupped your cheek, still panting, but there was a wide smile on his lips.

"How did you do that?"

"I barely did anything. You are very sensitive."

He smirked, "Or maybe you're just too good with that tongue. No woman has ever made me cum like this." He confessed.

You felt your cheeks blushing and that was also an effect of him over you. You weren't shy, but when he looked at you like that and talked to you like that you felt yourself melting. Instead of saying anything, you kissed him softly, but then went down your lips to his neck, licking, biting, sucking on his pulse point and continued moving your lips down to his chest, taking one of his nipples in your mouth and sucking and pinching the other. He moaned softly and you felt him twitching in your stomach, his cum running down his sides, making your skin and his stick together and making a mess, but you couldn't care less.

He was soft now, but not completely and as soon as the stimulation on his nipples intensified he began to harden again for you. The man had a lot of stamina and you could only be grateful for that because you couldn’t wait to have him inside you again.

"R-ride me." His voice sounded shaky above your head. You brushed your hair away from your face to look at him and he cupped your face with both hands "Ride me, baby. Use me. Wanna see you getting off on my cock." He asked and you felt your heart pounding on your chest. You nodded and kissed him.

"Condom?" You asked, trying hard to reason. He moved his fingers and a condom materialized between his index finger and his middle finger and he handed it to you. With another movement of his fingers his shirt disappeared, and he was completely bare for you.

Opening the package, you took his lips in a hungry kiss and your hands went down to meet his cock, pumping him slowly, but with a firm grip on your hands, making him moan on your lips.

You dedicated yourself to putting the condom on him, but first you bent down to put him whole in your mouth. His hands automatically grabbed your hair as he hardened until it was rock hard in your mouth as you bobbed your head on his length, finally giving him the oral he deserved.

"S-such a delicious mouth. So f-fucking perfect... I knew you'd be so fucking good to me..."

You couldn't shake the thought that he spoke to you as if he knew you and that it wasn't just because a friend had recommended you to him, it seemed to be something more, but at the same time you also knew that something in him was awakening a different type of attraction and that you were probably only seeing things where nothing existed because you were too involved, so you tried hard to push away those thoughts and dedicated yourself to giving him the best blowjob, using your tongue the entire time, swirling it along his entire length while taking turns going up and down and using a little suction on his head. You knew it was going well because he continued praising you between moans that grew louder and louder, however he held your chin and gently took his cock out of your mouth.

"As incredible as this is, I really want to cum with my cock inside you this time." He explained. "And not before you."

You smiled nodding and finally – reluctantly - put on the condom. Part of you wanted to fuck him raw, but in your profession, that was never an option.

Moving to straddle him, you directed his cock at your entrance which was dripping wet and let yourself sink into him feeling him stretch you deliciously.

You had seen dicks of all sizes and learned to get the best out of each one, but you couldn't be a hypocrite or lie and say that size doesn't matter. Yes, it matters a lot, and you were so grateful that Defender Strange was this big, providing you with the perfect amount of stretch and with that perfect curvature that found your g spot with surprising ease. All you had to do was lean forward a little, resting both hands on his chest and that was it.

"Oh y-yes baby... right there."

Stephen groaned in satisfaction, both of his hands grabbed and squeezed the fat of your waist, his eyes fixed on yours the entire time.

"Hit that sweet special spot uh? I can feel it. Feels so good, so fucking warm and wet... shit... squeezing me so tight."

You bit your lip, moving your hips up and down, turning it sensually every time you went down, letting his pelvic bone and hair massage your clit, providing shocks of pleasure that felt like electric currents running through your entire body.

"I love seeing you riding me like this, so fucking gorgeous" He purred "Come on, baby, need more, fuck me harder."

You increased the pace until you were both panting, the sensuality giving way to the tireless search for your release that you knew wasn't too far away. You couldn't help it, he was so perfect, everything about him exuded sex, the looks, the moans, the dirty words of submission taking you to the limit and at the same time making you hold on to the edge because you didn't want it to end, you wanted to let that continue forever.

However, he seemed to understand that you were stalling because he wrapped his arm around your waist and sat down leaving the two of you in a lotus position and began to move you faster on top of him, thrusting his hips against you to increase the intensity of the thrusts.

Getting carried away by all the sensations and feeling the knot threatening to break, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and grabbed a handful of his hair tugging at it with more force than you should have while the movements of your hips on top of him became faster and more desperate.

"Do it again." He urged in your ear, his baritone little more than a whisper.

You pulled his hair again, even harder this time and his head fell back and you felt his cock throb inside you. A part of you loved that and without him asking you did it again and again and took advantage of the fact that his neck was on display for you and started sucking it hard, biting it and sucking again until it left a purple mark. Satisfied, you grabbed his chin and pulled him to your lips, sticking your tongue in his mouth and being surprised by the way he let himself be dominated and when he let out a sweet moan in your mouth and his dick throbbed again Inside you, you knew he had reached his limit.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, feeling the wave of pleasure and euphoria wash over you as the knot broke and you came hard on his cock and with a loud, animalistic groan he came soon after, his cock pulsing and spilling into the condom. God, how you wish it were your walls that he was painting white.

That thought alone should have been enough for you to question your sudden involvement with that man, but at that moment you didn't want to reason, you just wanted to feel.

...

You were still lying on the rug, staring at the ceiling in silence and immersed in your own thoughts. Although your head was still spinning, your breathing had finally returned to normal, and the reason seemed to be coming back to you because you were suddenly too self-aware of everything that had happened that night.

Stephen had left you for a few minutes and you could hear him cleaning himself in the bathroom. You should also get up and get dressed, but your legs felt like jelly and you couldn't find the will within you to do so.

When he came back and laid back down next to you he was dressed in gray sweatpants and his hair had been pulled back into a ponytail.

"Don't you think sex is a weird thing?" You said, verbalizing the confused thoughts in your head. "I mean, you say things you would never say if you weren't aroused, you do things you can't imagine doing under any other circumstances."

He smiled thinking for a second. "I think it's called intimacy."

"Yes and no. Personally, I think intimacy is different. It's when you feel free to continue talking after sex is over and how you feel about it."

"Like now?" He asked.

You didn't respond, instead you sat down and faced the fireplace.

"I have a list of things I don't do or don't let people do to me." You admitted it.

"What for example?"

"Hickeys" You replied holding back a smile "As you can imagine it's not smart of me to arrive at the appointment with my client marked by the previous client."

"And why do I think you weren't reluctant enough when you realized what I was doing?"

"Because I wasn't." You sighed. "I also don't usually kiss my clients. I mean, it's not a rule, but I avoid it if possible. It makes me uncomfortable."

He sat down, seeming to watch you closely, but didn't say anything.

"Talking about personal things, like I'm doing now, is also on my list." You hugged your legs and rested your chin on your knee giving him an apologetic smile. "You left me disconcerted."

He smiled touching your knee and with his other hand he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and then caressed your cheek.

"I'm not usually like this with other women. Although I enjoy it, I rarely let myself be in a position where I'm not in control. I think it's safe to say that we both did things tonight that we don't usually do, and I don't know about you, but I really liked it and I really hope you liked it."

You sighed, feeling that strange feeling in your stomach again. "That's the problem, Stephen. You shouldn't care what I like or don't like."

"But I care." He replied chuckling dryly. "Is it really that bad that I care?"

You shook your head trying to think straight. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have started this conversation."

"You can tell me whatever you want." He said moving to kiss you, but then stopped and decided to confirm, "Is it okay to keep kissing you?"

"I don't know." You admitted with a sigh, but surrendered and threw yourself into his arms anyway.

He let out a small giggle when your lips collided, but then he took control of the kiss, kissing you like that was the only thing that mattered to him and god, he was such a good kisser. One of the reasons you hated kissing your clients was because they were terrible kissers and also because you thought it was too intimate. But with Defender Strange neither of those things applied.

When he finally got tired of your lips, he stood up and held out his hand for you to do the same. "Come on, let's go to bed."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

DEFENDER STRANGE MASTERLIST

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itstheghostofmypast · 9 months ago

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MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Okay- so, first of all, thank you so much Anon, for this ask and I'm sorry I responded to late, but I had to take my time with this one.😭💖.

So here it goes, (i know i said i'd do two biases, im sorry guys, i love yall too much and i get too invested the word count was killing me)

1) @edenesth

Park Seonghwa- Rivals to Lovers

Here me out, he owns an old book shop across the street, he's been there longer than you too. This was his turf, his town, his people, people who loved to read in his cozy library, with its olden print books, worn out pages, read through by generations of the same family.

All was great until one spring she shows up, with her whole pastel plus minimalistic vibes, all with the cutesy trinkets and plants, with warm lights- he noticed some books too, but they were only for show- in conclusion it was a horrid place.

A horrid place where most teens would go to after school now, no longer going to his bookshop, where they'd gossip, read novels or mangas, or even look at pretty pictured magazines (the safe kind, mind you he kept nothing nasty). What's worse was that the older folk began to go there, too! Especially because of how nice she was to them, so polite and so pretty and - ANNOYING.

He even went to 'inspect' the place, with a sour mood and an ill intention, though he was greeted with a burst of sweet aroma, one that had his stomach growling and his inner foodie, begging him to pick at least one of the many pastries or have a cup of steaming, delicious coffee. What came next was worst, her, with her gentle smile and angelic features.

"Hello! Welcome to Spring Avenue, how may we help you today?"

"You're taking my traffic."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Of course you don't."

With that he had walked out, starting a cold war, between the two. Ironically, she was a pacifist, never a fighter, but boy, did he piss her off, he knew all those buttons that would have her steaming like a hot latte.

The war had begun;

It all began when he put a " 10% off sign on Mangas, Fashion Magazines and Manhwas" that took a god chunk of her traffic.

In retaliation, she launched a "Friendship campaign, any customer that brings a friend gets a cake slice free."

Spend 2 hours reading here and leave with a borrowed book/novel of your choice."

"Buy a coffee and get a cookie free."

This continued throughout the season, so did their rivalry, to an extent that led their divided customers sense the tension. And like usual, highschoolers are escapists and this little feud of Seonghwa and her's was a problem they'd like to avoid, from her cafe they could see their beloved bookshop owner Seonghwa scowl at them, and if they were leaving the bookshop, the kids could feel the uneasiness in her smile that she give them once they'd pass her by.

"Congratulations, you're in loss." She sighed, closing the file, earning a scowl from the cafe owner, "Hey, I'm just here to check your bills, loss, and profit stuff, don't shoot the messenger."

"Alexia, come on." She whined, this was her dream, she'd put in her life's savings for this, "What should I do, Lexi?"

"Gosh, maybe not give out stupid discounts four times in a month?" Alexia sighed, rubbing her face, leaning back to stare at the bookshop across the street, "San said he knows the owner, maybe you guys could do a collab, instead of trying to each other's traffic."

"Who's San?" She asked her best friend, slash account manager and Public Relations officer- wait, was she dating!?

"Oh- uh- hey would you look at the time?" Alexia got up, grabbing her disposable coffee cup and bag, "Tell you what, you ask the bookshop owner dude about this? Okay? I'll get back with the details on Monday!" She called out as she walked towards the door, ignoring the cafe owner's questions about this San, "BYE LOVE YOU!"

That's how she found herself standing Infront of his bookshop that evening, still debating if she should go in or not? Was this idea even worth it, the guy was rude, annoying, stupid, incredibly handsome and sweet with kids and- the hell.

"Can I help you?" His deep voice came out of no where

She almost jumped out of her skin, only to turn around and spot the man she had been hating for the past ten months, standing there in all his angleic glory, with that ugly sweater and that overly comfortable scarf, not to mention his hair, his undercut had grown, quiet well too, perhaps he really was blessed with good genes.

"I uh..." she trailed off, pouting to herself, thinking of how he'd react, maybe he would make fun of her, or insult her or even go as far as to tell the town about her poor business management skills.

"Are you still open?" his question had caught her off guard, staring at him quietly wanting to see if this was a trick, only it wasn't, for when she nodded, he had looked around and then asked if he could...get a cup of coffee from there.

Of course she had said yes, why on earth would she say no to a customer, she needed the business. Unfortunately, that one cup of coffee, turned into two, then three, well- not as unfortunate as she would like it to be.

The two, mind you, who still didnt like each other, began to learn a lot about each other. He learnt how she was genuinely a sweet, caring and gentle person, her persona was indeed not fake but very real, this is who she was. She on the other hand, learned that he had inherited this business from his family, and he was an avid reader- sort a geek, a cute geek, a cute geek that could eat a whole chocolate cake with three mugs off coffee like it was nothing.

It wasn't until the third week of him visiting her cafe, that when he had stepped out to go there, he had bumped into her. She had almost fallen, but he was quick, gripping her wrist and pulling her into his chest, only to laugh when she mumbled an excuse, though he was glad she couldn't hear how his heart was hammering against his chest, wanting to stuff itself in the breast pocket of her coat.

That day she had asked him if she could check out his book shop, because she had been looking for old English bakery recipes and she couldn't find it anywhere, not any store around or online. Of course he had taken her to the right isle, in the right section in no time, this bookshop was his life and collecting and sifting through books was his passion, that day he had seen her passion, she had sat there, on the floor the entire night, reading book after book, mumbling to herself as she noted down recipes. He had sat next to her, helping her jot down notes, bringing her coffee- well not as good as hers, but good enough. At one point he had even ordered them a late night snack, well snacks, because he's a growing boy. He had closed the shop with the two inside, even pulled out a blanket and some cushions from the lounging area so she could comfortably work- she was a passionate girl and ironically he had realised something that night, only it turned into a full blown epiphany in the morning.

Next morning she had woken up right next to him, her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her as the blanket was draped over the two, they had fallen asleep while reading- oh my, he really was pretty up close.

Though the two pretended nothing had happened, nothing had changed, however, everyone around them had noticed, the highschoolers would giggle when he'd come to her cafe for a cup of coffee, or how the older folk would pat him on the back when she'd step into the bookshop calling him out for help, with her little, "Hwa?"

Neither really knew how it happened, but one night while closing up he had waited outside for her, telling her he'd drop her home, even though she lived close by. Slowly this had become part of their routine, he'd often talk about the latest manga or an issue to the Star Wars comics or whatever on earth he'd talk about, but she'd always listen. Always smile and laugh at his jokes, while he'd readily accept any test recipes she'd try, telling her that his stomach was like a blackhole.

But when do the two get together? Simple, on New Years Eve, when he had to close his shop but she had decided to leave her cafe open, wanting to cater to all those who were celebrating the arrival of the new year with their loved ones, she knew Seonghwa had to go home anyway and she didn't want to spend the night alone since her family was out of town. What she did not expect was a few minutes before the strike of midnight, the cafe door chimed open as she turned to greet the customer, only to freeze at the sight before her- Seonghwa entering with a bouqet of origami flowers, smiling at her as he slowly walked to her;

"I- I know you don't like plucking flowers or bouqets, so I made you these."

"You...made these?"

"Ofcourse."

"W-why?"

"I...because I..." but before he could finish his sentence his ears picked up the count down, causing him to quickly place the flowers on the counter and as soon as the fireworks rang in her ears, it was as if she could feel the burning warmth in her body, taking a second to process how his lips were on hers, his hands cupping her face as her hands instinctively went up to grip his coat, pulling him even closer. Who knew that one day she'll end up opening a cafe that also served as a bookstore, who knew that one day, her little, evil, handsome rival bookseller, would be the New Year's kiss she never knew she needed, the man she never knew she needed, the lover that she was blessed to have.

2) @yessa-vie

Jeong Yunho- Neighbors to Lovers

No, she was not the new tenant, he was, and for some ungodly reason he was also extremely ill-prepared to live alone. Like any other weekend, she was leaving her apartment to go to the cafe to sit in peace and finish her novel, but God had other plans. She had opened the door to come face to face with a tall, good-looking man, though the smile he wore scared her- he was one of those extroverts.

No, he was not mean at all, nor was he the manipulative kind, Jeong Yunho really didn't know how the pre-installed dishwasher worked, that's why he had come to her that fateful weekend, about to knock on the door but she had beat him to it, opening the door before he could, earning a sheepish smile in return- who knew his neighbour would be so gorgeous, who knew purple could look so good on someone?

"Hey, I- I moved in across the hall, apartment 19, lol, I guess we're neighbours, huh?"

She had only nodded meekly at his question, pulling her satchel closer to her person, not because she didn't like him, no, but because she wasn't much of a talker anymore, not so confident either and also- because regardless of how good looking this stranger was, he was still a stranger.

"I'm Yunho- Sorry to bother you, I know you must be going somewhere, but I- I uh- I wanted to know if you know how to operate the dishwasher?"

That's how she found herself in his apartment, leaving the maindoor wide open, so she could escape if something were to happen, but to her surprise he was just a regular idiot, one who thought the dishwasher was a rack used to dry the dishes- men.

That night Yunho met an angel, one who seemingly had her life planned out, held together well, while he was still trying to build something out of his- data analyst or not, living alone was not the easiest thing to do, yet, she seemed so nonchalant about it.

Overtime however, she noticed how he would come over to ask her for help often, sometimes it was the 'fridge isn't working right' other times it was the 'how much water do you add to rice while boiling it?' Honestly, she would've told him to piss off if it were anyone else, but it was her polite neighbour, her sweet polite, new neighbour who would pass her by in the corridor every morning, smiling at her and wishing her a good morning- even if she wasn't a morning person.

Ironically, he continued to ensure they cross paths, only because he wanted to get to know her, to talk to her, he really needed a friend, and since moving here meant Mingi and him could no longer hang out 24/7, he really needed another person to talk to, someone who was not Hongjoong from the finance department.

Ironically, she did not protest or tell him to get lost, instead she's quietly help him whenever he'd approach her, giving him a shy smile then going back to her apartment. That purple door tempting him to go back and knock on the old wood, wanting to know what Narnia like secrets she hid behind.

She let it be, truthfully, she wanted fo befriended him, but during these little adventures, she realised she had begun to neglect her book, the same book she had a deadline for, the same book she had been working on day and night, and now this puppy pops up and takes all her attention?

So what does she do? Simple, she starts to create some form of distance, leave before he'd be awake, come back home later too, also even if he did come to knock on her purple door, she wouldn't be there to answer it, so technically she wouldn't feel guilty right?

Wrong, instead God had punished her with a severe writer's block, one so bad that she had missed two of her deadlines, and according to her publisher, she was on her last chance. That's how she found herself at the very cafe where she would find solace, now on the verge of tears, staring at the laptop in pure agony, maybe this was payback for leaving him unattended and ignoring him or maybe she was never meant to be a writer.

A fresh cup of coffee was placed next to her hand, causing her to quickly pull back and look at the stranger, only her panicked eyes met a softer, more timid gaze, a gentle smile gracing her presence.

"Hey... you looked like you needed the juice." He smiled, gesturing towards the chair, as if asking for permission to sit down next to her, to which she nodded.

"I uh..." she paused. Should she even be asking him how he's been? Does she have the right to do so, or are they just neighbours- well, at this point, two strangers living across each other.

"I read your books by the way," he began, giving her a gentle smile, as he felt the way she had tensed up, honestly, initially he thought she was like that because his presence made her uncomfortable, but he soon realised it wasn't him, but she usually was this tensed all the time, this nervous and unsure, which made no sense to him because she was one of the most well functioning person he had met in the city, and he was glad to have moved in next to her, "It's great, the plotline is amazing and the details- you really captured the essence, I particularly liked the world you created, honestly, when I moved here I thought everyone wore those 'blockers' too. To not...feel stuff you know," he turned to look at her, only to catch her staring at him, a small chuckle escaping him when she cleared her throat, averting her gaze, "You were the only one who was nice enough to help me, even for the stupidest of tasks...it means a lot."

She stared at him in awe and disbelief. She had been trying to avoid him for almost a month now, couldn't he tell? Or was he just playing dumb- I mean he totally could be dumb, he didn't know a toaster comes with settings, just thought the numbers were there for the appeal.

After that the two began to "spend time together", it was strictly casual mind you, nothing personal, though he would drop by more often than usual, sometimes after work, sometimes on the weekends- to have dinner with her, he'd bring dessert, or to watch a movie with her, he'd bring the snacks- no, nothing domestic at all.

Or so they thought, because a few months in, he had come over by swinging the door open, yes he had the keys and she had his keys, only to find her standing there all dressed up.

"Where are you off to? What about movie night?"

"Oh no..." she gasped, "Yuyu, I forgot to tell you I had a date tonight." A date? Why? With whom?

"Wait, why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Why would you go on a date when we- I mean...isn't it weird? Shouldn't you be more focused on your book, instead of this temporary romance?"

"Temporary romance?!"

"W-wait, I didn't mean it like that. It came out wrong-"

"Out."

"W-what?"

"I said get out!"

That happened a week ago, she had been avoiding him for a whole week, she had been ignoring his calls, his texts, his knocks- no he didn't barge into her apartment, it took him a great amount of time to get her to open up to him and he idiotically clowned himself. So he decided to go to the next thing, go to the official reading of her book launch.

He waited there at the back, listening to her intently, taking in each word, who knew he would ever fall in love with, her neighbour, the same girl who had helped with the dishwasher, brought him dinner at night, spent time teaching him the usual ropes of living alone- who knew the very same girl had changed the plot of the book, basing it on her life, expressing how the shy, depressed protagonist, who thought dying her hair purple would make her feel better, realised that the only thing that would make her feel better would be a companion, a tall, handsome man, with a heart of gold- it was not that she needed a man, no, she just needed a friend, and she had finally found one, the inspiration to her writer's block, the Chandler to her Monica, the- HE DIES!?

He gasped, appalled at the way she had ended the story, where at the end, on his deathbed the man tells his beloved how she never needed him, but he needed her to function, to live through each day- bloody hell.

He waited for them to leave when he finally approached her, somewhat upset-no, he was very upset, as she stopped cleaning up to look at him, raising a questioning brow, "What?"

"I can't believe you!"

"Funny, Jeong, I should be the one saying that."

"What!? You killed me!?"

"What?"

"I come here to declare my undying love- no I come here to tell you how much you mean to me and apologise for never asking you out but getting upset when someone actually asked you out and you KILL ME IN YOUR NOVE?"

"First of all, I accept your apology, secondly, the protagonist was DEFINITELY NOT YOU, I made him up WAY BEFORE I met you."

"Oh..." he stared at her then looked around the almost empty bookshop, maybe he should just leave-

"So...Will you ask me out properly now or...'l"

"Move in with me."

"Too fast."

"Was worth a shot." He smiled when she let out a small laugh shaking her head at his antics, "Take me to dinner, Yunho." She smiled watching him lean closer then pause, as if asking for her permission, "Can I...?" His question was answered when she gripped him by the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer to crash her lips against his, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling back only to press his forehead against hers,

"We move into my apartment..."

"What? Mine's great-"

"Yunho, have you seen the window and the balcony on mine?"

"Your apartment it is boss."

3) @jaehunnyy

Choi San- Bestfriends to Lovers

Idiots, these two were complete idiots who were utterly in love with each other but were also too blind to realise that - why? Simple, because both feared that confessing to the other may ruin the long-held, deep bond.

A bond that had developed at the ripe age of childhood, middle school, to be more accurate. The day he had come to school, bored out of his mind, staring outside the window, wondering if he could jump on the closest tree to escape this prison. What he had not expected was an angel to come and sit beside him, well technically, the teacher had made her sit next to him, and he hadn't noticed her until she poked his shoulder lighter, causing him to jerk back and gasp, earning a few chuckles from the glass as the teacher just sighed in defeat.

"Wh-Hello."

"Do you need help with that?" She asked, pointing at the math equation in front of him. He looked at his notebook and remembered that's what they were supposed to me doing- damn that was a lot of daydreaming.

"Yeah, I guess...do you... know how to solve it?" He asked the new girl, too afraid to make eyecontact.

"Here, I'll show you." Turning to face him, she pulled his scribbled notebook closer.

"I'm San by the way."

That day onwards, a nice and quiet introvert at the back of the class finally began to crack open. From time to time, you'd hear him whispering to her, talking about some anime or a film. Often, he'd be telling her about his cat, Byeol, and how pretty she was. During break you wouldn't see San next to her for the first five minutes, no, he'd be sprinting across the campus,jumping down the stairs to go to the canteen to get her something to drink with her lunch, or a sweet snack, regardless of how many times she'd say 'it's fine.' During self study hours, she wouldn't be studying, no, she'd be busy tutoring her athletically gifted friend, he was...a little dumb, but that's okay, he was hardworking and she'd tell him she'd help him where he'd get stuck, explain and tutor where needed- especially in math.

As they grew older, he grew into his body, his self-esteem issues slowly subsiding, his feelings for her deepening, yet, never enough to tip the scale, at the bring of an edge but never enough to flow out he had to keep it all under control, because that's just how San was, patient and calm, he would never take a step if there was an ounce of the doubt when it came to how she felt about him. Though watching her spread her wings into the beauty she was, well, was somewhat problematic for him. Especially when she'd come to him, smiling like that, greeting him with the gentle voice of hers, asking him if he liked her haircut.

"What do you think?"

"It's...very nice."

"Just very nice?"

"You'd look pretty to me even if you were bald."

Conversations like these would have her heart hammering against her ribcage, and she'd pray to God that he couldn't hear it. She'd pray for it when he'd be walking home side by side, his shoulder bumping into hers, or his hand brushing against hers, when he'd take her bag from her, clicking his tongue at how heavy it would be,

"You trynna' build muscles like me?" He'd ask, though he was still very fragile, he'd only started going to the gym when he noticed how the 'basketball team captain', had decided to ask her to 'help tutor him too', though she had politely declined.

"Hmm? Of course not, Advanced Math books are just big like that..."

"Why do you do this to yourself, dove?" A nickname she had gained over the time, one used only by him.

"Because I wanna teach one day, I love teaching, I want to make sure people realise subjects aren't difficult or they aren't dumb, it's just that they're not taught properly."

Yup, he was smitten, on his knees, begging for her please ( he was also an idiot).

Ended up in college with her, though in a different major, like hell the now 'mountain of a man', no longer the kitten-like fragile boy, was going to major in math- business was a way better option.

This wasn't a bad situation, though they rarely had a few classes together, she'd still make time to see him, to text him as soon as class would end, but he'd already be standing at the exit, waiting for her with a coffee in hand and a dimpled smile, reserved just for her.

In no means was Choi San an extrovert, but somehow along the line he had met one, who later claimed that his MBTI had changed to an introvert too, though he doubted that notion- Jung Wooyoung.

Boistorous, noisy, obnoxious but a genuinely nice person at heart, Wooyoung was his companion in his major's classes, he was also the first person to know about San's little secret, since San trusted him enough to know, though Wooyoung assured him he had figured it out as soon as San introduced him to her as his "bestfriend".

"You're an idiot." Wooyoung snorted, taking off his shoes as he walked into the 4th years tiny apartment.

"What? Why?"

"You really think I didn't know?"

"How did you kno-'

"You can be bestfriends with a girl since childhood, unless a) one of you confessed to the other and got friendzoned but still chose friendship or b) neither of you confessed but are secretly crushing over the other."

"Wow, should've been a psychologist instead of a business major."

"What can I say, Sannie? I am a man of many talents."

Things progressed like this for a long time, Wooyoung watched from the sidelines how the two would basically act like a couple that was not a couple- almost everyone at campus thought they were a couple and Wooyoung was basically the third wheel. Not that he minded, and San appreciated him for that, he was glad Wooyoung's relationship with his dove was platonic- borderline sibling-like.

But Choi San was a fool, one that Choi San, at the fresh age of 25 wished that perhaps he'd be able to take the next steps, but something at the back of his mind held him back, were his personal desires as important as this friendship?

Which is why he stood there watching his best friend get ready for her date, her date with Wooyoung. After a conversation he did not like, but what could he say? He was too afraid to even confess, and well, Wooyoung wasn't a bad guy, and technically, he was his friend.

"I'm gonna ask her out, Sannie." The brunnet sighed, before taking a sip of his coffee, humming at the bitterness, perhaps this bitterness was sweeter than the bitter taste that had developed in San's mouth at the statement.

"W-why?" The bigger man with the fragile heart whispered.

"Because...I like her...I'm sorry but...I gave you time, so much of it and...I just wanted you to be the first one to know...if she says no, we'll all still be friends, but if she says yes...San, I won't hold back."

That had led to her first anniversary with Wooyoung, then the second and finally a day before their third anniversary San had texted the couple how he wouldn't be able to make it to their anniversary party because he had work that day and he wished them the best.

What he did not expect was someone knocking on his door at 2 am, opening the door to find a tear stained Wooyoung, only for him to punch the taller man in the face, watching him stumble backwards then wipe his eyes and sigh, "I swear- if you weren't such a great guy, I would've stabbed you."

"What the F*CK WOOYOUNG?"

That night was the first time he had seen Wooyoung cry, cry about how when she read the message she had become a mess, one that even Wooyoung couldn't fix, begging him for forgiveness how she made a mistake, how even though she was happy with Wooyoung, her heart belonged to someone else, someone who she thought she could move on from since he never confessed, since he never liked her back the way she did, and though the text was a confirmation of that, she couldn't bear lying to Wooyoung, to give him only half the love of what he deserved, knowing he deserved someone who would teach him the true meaning of love, because she was a teacher with only one student in mind, the idiot of a man- Choi San.

That night San couldn't sleep, not a wink, he processed the words over and over again, so did she like him? Should he confess to her? Now? Wouldn't that make it awkward? Or should he wait? Would that be a mistake?

Though his questions were answered in the morning when the doorbell rang at 7 am, making the sleepy man sigh as he stumbled to the door with blurry eyes, opening it still half asleep, only the slap he received woke sobered him up quickly,

"OW- WH- WHY ARE YOU JUST LIKE WOOYOUNG!?"

"SHUT UP! DONT TAKE HIS NAME! I HURT HIM BECAUSE OF YOU!" Never in the many years of knowing her, had she raised her voice like that.

"I-"

"NO! LISTEN TO ME!" She yelled before shoving him inside so she could continue yelling inside, "I like you- and you- you d*ck you could tell him you liked me but you couldn't tell me!? All those horrible dates you watched me go to, but you couldn't stop me?! You knew you liked me yet you let Woo ask me out!?"

"I- I didn't wanna ruin what we had..."

"San, I- what if I had married Woo? Huh? Then what? When you already had half my heart, I-"

She couldn't finish her sentence though, because the next thing she knew, he was smothering her with all that pent up love, his lips pressing against hers with a ferocity she had ever seen in her gentle Sannie, wanting to claim what he was too scared to touch before.

He only pulled back when she lightly pushed him back, gasping for air, looking up at him all flushed and pink, her swollen lips just enticing him even more,

"W-what was that?" She breathed out.

"Never say you're marrying anyone but me, I would've ruined the wedding even if it meant being thrown out."

"You're an idiot Sannie."

"No, I just had a teacher who could teach me math, but couldn't teach me how to love properly - guess she was learning too."

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lola-babylon · 1 year ago

Text

Running the numbers on Brendon, Ryan, and owning the Panic! at the Disco legacy

Some people are a bit upset that Brendon Urie continued performing as PATD after Jon & Ryan left, or after Spencer & Dallon left. One of the primary criticisms you see floating around is that, by using the Panic name for his solo career from 2015-2023. Brendon was profiting off of Ryan's legacy as the main songwriter on the early albums.

Let's dig into that, especially the "profit" bit.

I've seen jokes about Ryan Ross working retail now cause he's broke. We don't know what Ryan does with his days and it's none of our business unless he chooses to share that information publicly, but AFYCSO alone has been certified 4x Platinum in the US, having sold 4 million copies. Ryan, being the main songwriter on the album, would one hopes receive a decent income stream for the royalties and has no need to work a job he doesn't want to pay the bills (recording contracts are usually a Kafkaesque nightmare, but hopefully they had a decent contract where the artists get a fair share of royalties, that it isn't all chewed up by record companies).

But if you look at the album sales over time, this is where it gets interesting.

(well, interesting to a stats and facts wonk)

Here's the Recording Industry of America's certification record for AFYCSO - you can check for yourself here

The album went platinum, meaning sales of a million copies, in 2006, a year after it was released. It took another 9 years for the album to double that figure, selling 2 million copies by 2015 and achieving 2x platinum. But then things took off, with AFYCSO reaching 4 million sales by June 2023 and the resulting 4x platinum certification.

But what stands out here is this - AFYCSO was released in 2005. And fully half of all sales of AFYCSO took place after 2015.

2015 was the year that Panic became a solo project of Brendon Urie's. It also marked the start of the period of some of the band's highest sales since the early days, including their first number one charting album, a second number one album, and (Jebus, please save us from) the single "High Hopes". And Brendon toured extensively - musicians used to tour to encourage people to buy their albums; now that most music is digital musicians rely touring as their largest source of income, which is one of the reasons why a ticket to see Led Zeppelin on their 1975 U.S. tour cost $31 adjusted for inflation to 2023 dollars, but seeing any decently sized musical act in concert these days will set you back well over $100 and that's just for starters.

(I told you I was a stats wonk).

Anyway, through all that work, Brendon was using the Panic name, sure. Was he entitled to? That's not my point here. What he was doing was keeping the Panic name in the public mind, entertaining old fans and winning new ones (not my thing, but again that's not my point) and in those years, those fans purchased 2 million copies of AFYCSO, and as the main songwriter on the album Ryan has received the largest share of the royalties from those sales. Ryan earned and was entitled to that money, of course, but would AFYCSO have sold two million copies between 2015 and 2023 if Brendon had retired the Panic name and continued as a solo artist?

Let's be realistic. No.

When people heard High Hopes or any of the other post split music, they were hearing a Panic at the Disco song. If they liked it, they'd look up the artist Panic at the Disco, find the band's earlier work, and buy/stream it. If they'd heard High Hopes as a Brendon Urie song, and looked up the artist Brendon Urie, is it likely they'd have followed the bread crumb trail, learned about this now defunct band called Panic at the Disco Brendon used to be in, and bought that band's stuff too?

We could go back to 2004/2005 and debate whether Panic would have made it as big as they did back then without Ryan's songwriting skills and determined online hustling of the band. Or without Brendon's vocals and stage presence, or Spencer's creative vision for their image and live performances. Or without that they were all so young, they were just crazy brave enough to put their all into the band when if they'd been only a few years older, they might have been worried about the future enough to stay in or go to college, or train as a hairdresser or whatever. Or for that matter whether they had all that, and the right sound at the right time, and made the right connections, oh and they weren't exactly bad looking. There's so many reasons bands do or don't make it. Just talent is never enough. Trying to work out which parts of Panic's early success were due to the respective talents of Ryan, Spencer, and/or Brendon nearly 20 years on is like trying to unscramble an egg (even Brent paid a role, through the loans his parents provided to help pay for the band's practice space and van for the early tours). But it's unrealistic to say Panic was a success solely because of Ryan or that Brendon trampled all over that to get to the top solo. Either way....

Brendon Urie continuing as Panic has been, financially, very benefical for Ryan. Brendon continuing with the Panic name has meant AFYCSO was from 2015-2023 the first album of a very successful currently touring act, and not a footnote to Brendon Urie's career from his now defunct first band (I don't see it that way at all - this post is about album sales and money, not artistic integrity). And Ryan has received the royalties from albums that would never have been sold if PATD officially disbanded in 2009 or 2013 or whatever.

And whilst Ryan has been at home restoring antique cuckoo clocks or whatever he chooses to do, Brendon's been missing his family, home, and dogs, getting up at 4am to catch flights, living out of suitacses, answering inane interview questions, sleeping on tour buses and wondering what country he's in today - and, indirectly, making Ryan money. If Ryan only cared about money he probably would have continued on with Panic past 2009, but I'm sure the royalties he's received since 2015 haven't been a burden either. I'm not saying Ryan owes Brendon anything, he doesn't, and Brendon only lived that life because he loved it, or thought the performing bit made it all worth it (along with making a bunch of money for himself).

This post has focused on AFYCSO, though of course Ryan also gets royalties from Pretty. Odd, which has had a long overdue reappraisal from audiences who realise it's really fucking good. (I'll use the correct punctuation this once, but there was no way I was going to add an exclamation point every time I typed the word panic). Anyway, crunching the numbers on one album was enough. But Brendon didn't profit off of Ryan's legacy by continuing as Panic. It's been very profitable for them both.

#brendon urie #ryan ross #panic at the disco #a fever you can't sweat out #afycso #p!atd #pre split panic #panic! at the disco #spencer smith

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devsgames · 6 months ago

Note

Heya, a while ago I got a job as a programmer for a small game studio (yay!), though now struggling to manage the work load from disability issues and it not being better than my previous development job, I've realised I would very much like to go solo. I believe I have the technical ability and training to do so but I'm not sure how to manage it financially, especially with an almost full time job (that I can't reduce more than I already have). Do you have any tips on the money side of becoming independent? Would just like to be stable enough to make a living on it!

Thanks for the ask!!

First: congrats on getting a job! That's excellent!

I'm going to go in-depth because I think it's a valid question, but I also want to be super clear that no one should go solo until they're absolutely prepared for the risks associated with it:

Sustainability

I can't personally speak to working with a disability, but my biggest piece of advice for going solo is: don't quit your day job. Odds are good that as a solo developer you are not going to make enough money to earn a living.

In my experience it's usually better to be miserable and struggling at a full-time job that pays well than miserable and struggling as a solo dev that doesn't pay rent. At a full-time job you may not happy but at least you put food on the table and can save money and spend it on things guilt-free, which is something a lot of solo devs can't do.

I think there's a misconception that being a solo dev is sustainable when in actuality the way most solo devs are sustainable is by already having a popular game/following, or having an existing safety net or second job that pays the bills, or by working their asses off more than they would at a full-time job. Solo dev exhibits survivorship bias because the solo devs who couldn't keep up in the market simply aren't doing it anymore. Solo dev is so competitive and the pay so unreliable that unless you strike gold (which is very unlikely) I can't in good faith recommend anyone attempt going solo without some sort of extensive planning to back it up.

I'll use myself as a point of comparison for full transparency (because I am absolutely not exempt from having immense privilege and I think it's important to acknowledge that): I was laid off in 2023, but my partner currently makes 110k CDN a year. Before I got laid off I made 85k CDN a year. We've been saving up for about ~7 years. Cost of living in our area of the country is very high, but we live in a place owned by a relative so our rent is truly dirt cheap so our overall costs are incredibly low. My partner pays most of our expenses, and I'm on her insurance plan. We're both open and comfortable about this arrangement now, but if something happened financially I'd be running out and working a job immediately out of necessity. I am incredibly privileged to have a comfortable living situation that affords me flexibility to focus on creative stuff full-time, but it's because of these circumstances that I can do solo dev in a dedicated capacity.

A Peek At Finances

I started solo dev in 2020 and until 2023 I did solo dev alongside my full-time job and I shipped 3 games in that time (so roughly one game per year), so I was saving money and making games on the side. I ran a Kickstarter as part of that and made a number of sales as part of the Queer Games Bundle (which offered much more generous payouts back then than it is able to now). Now in 2024 I do it full-time, but despite this I don't make enough to survive.

Here's all the profits from my game sales from the last 4 years as a solo dev (in USD). Remember this is from the last 4 years altogether (not per-year), and 2024 was the first year I did it exclusively:

Steam

Itchio (this is largely due to the Queer Games Bundle, I generally don't make much profit off itch at all outside of that)

On top of this, I work as a Course Director at a local University for 4 months of the year for an additional $10k to supplement my income. I also have had some other revenue streams from streaming, commissions, freelance writing, talks, Patreon, etc. however that's approximately in the ~$100 every few months range and not terribly noteworthy.

As you can tell the solo dev sales is not really enough money for most people to make rent on, and some of my games (like Lofty Quest) cost a lot of money relative to their profit. Solo dev is incredibly risky because even with perfect planning you can work on a project for years only for it to make you like, $300 in the end.

All this is to say; solo dev really is not sustainable full-time for most people unless you are the 0.1% of people who can afford to live on $1000-5000 USD a year (though I feel like most people can't).

"""Side-Hustle""" Approach

I think solo dev is more manageable as a (for lack of a better word) 'side hustle' than it is a full-time job. But I find the secret to doing that is (like any craft) is to learn to enjoy the process and not the product - if you enjoy making your own games then it will give you energy, as opposed to sucking it away like making games for work does.

When I was working in the office I'd be designing stuff for my TTRPGs whenever I took breaks at my desk, or writing notes and plans on digital games whenever I had some down time. Even working remotely I would squeeze in working on my game during big team meetings or before I went to bed - again mostly just because I liked the act of making my own games. I did it because I enjoyed it and it afforded me more freedom than I had working on content on a AAA game, but I never really did it because I was ever planning to make a ton of money or planning to go solo. Doing solo dev part-time helped me find a work-life balance where I was still feeling creatively fulfilled despite working at a job I hated, and profit came after that - I only fully focused on solo dev when I suddenly lost my job and found myself in a comfortable living situation.

An additional thing I'd say about solo dev is that if you 'believe' you have the ability to do it, then try to ship a premium game right now by yourself from start to finish as a side thing before re-shaping your life plans around it. It sounds obvious but until you ship a game by yourself you don't know what it's like to ship a game by yourself, and it'll give you a better idea of what it's actually like and if it's something you can actually manage to do more long-term.

If you're really really going to go solo full-time and nothing is ever going to stop you (once again, I would not recommend considering this at all but I know some people have trouble listening to advice), then here's some survival tips:

You should ensure you have a plan that is concrete and actionable - make it a SMART goal so that it's measurable and you can quantifiable hold yourself to it. E.g. "I'm going to publish a game solo and see how it goes" isn't something to bank your livelihood on, but "I'm going to release two small games before November and see what the process is like, and if I'm not making rent by February I will find a part time job" is. Remember that finding a new job after being off the job market will take time (sometimes months) and incorporate that additional plan. Formulate a Plan B and hold yourself to it, and then a handful of 'Plan C through G' worst-case scenarios, because you don't want to bank your livelihood on solo dev. Hold yourself to your plan whenever possible, keep going back to that plan, and know when to call it quits. Solo dev isn't worth sacrificing your life over.

Before going solo, calculate your monthly burn rate and current savings and know how long it will last - also assume you're going to spend more money than you usually do on average (because you'll probably spend more than you expect). Plan ways to cut costs in your daily life, what you can stop spending money on, etc. Figure out your insurance situation with your work; you'll either have to get your own plan or lose health coverage in some instances. If you're planning on quitting your job and you have a quit date be sure to maximize the amount of money you spend on insurance before you do; buy new orthotics, new glasses, see your doctor, stock up on your meds, etc. Don't do any unnecessary spending if at all possible.

Read up on your local business and tax laws, and learn how it works for developers in your area with regards to revenue from foreign countries (if you live outside the US, as most storefronts operate within the US). If you can, find a lawyer and an accountant who works with game developers in your area (if you know any local devs ask them who they use, they'll usually be happy to share). Seek out publishers, investors, grants, developers in your area and make connections as early as possible because they could be a lifeline down the road. If you're going to be sustainable as a solo dev it's usually from grants, investors or contract work and not because of sales alone. Network early and network often.

When you start a game, be acutely confident (and honest with yourself) of its marketability - no one thinks your game is as cool as you do. Don't make an echo chamber about your work and be open to feedback. Ask others what they think about it to validate your intentions.

Plan to spend money on promoting it. Post about your game as part of your job and never shut up about it. Be as annoying about your work as you feel comfortable, and then double the amount of annoying you are. You'll get used to being annoying because if no one finds out about your game your game will not make money.

Work like a studio; playtest your game early and often. Before you finish your first game, plan what your next game is going to be and start prototyping that. Be your own producer, err on the side of caution and cut as many things as often as possible.

I made a whole talk on the production side of being a solo dev here if you want more specific production tips.

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Anyway, sorry that may not be...terribly helpful of an answer, but I think a realistic approach is usually best. Thanks again for the ask!

#asks #ask #advice #game dev #game design #indie dev #indiedev #gamedev #game development #blog

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always-is-always · 6 months ago

Text

Monetization -it's all about profit

It really is, when one steps back and looks at the massive business that has been created around BTS. Of course they are going to monetize everything possible, because they know that ARMYs are going to spend their money on it. Even when it is useless stuff that isn't worth 5% of the price they charge for it.

Maybe it's because I see what they are doing as one who looks at the bigger pictures in life. Maybe it's because I see photos of ARMY's who have obviously spend tons of money on stuff that really has no long-term value. Maybe it is because I am a self-supporting woman who works hard to keep a roof over her head, while paying her bills. Maybe it is because I understand corporate mentalities, and corporate greed.

Maybe it is simply because I believe that it is really TOO MUCH, to expect ARMYs to fork out their money for every single little thing.

That latest pop-up thing that they've connected to Tae is what got me started on this little rant. I know it isn't Tae. He just happens to be the member that HYBE decided to use for this particular little "event" that they have scheduled in multiple cities across the world.

Yeah.

Spend $50 and get a FREE STICKER!!!

You've got to be kidding me.

Really?

Spend 50 freaking dollars on MERCHANDISE, and they give you a "free" sticker? Do they think that ARMYs are that easily convinced that that is an awesome deal? Like Win/Win? Like you get a freaking sticker for spending what amounts to a tank of gas (for my car)?

Sorry, not sorry. It urks me beyond what I can type here.

This is the stuff that gets me. They know that many ARMYs are going to do it. They know it, and they don't care that it is money that might need to actually be spent on things like food, shelter, bills...

I know that it is a choice for people to spend their money on that stuff, but I also know that a lot of those people believe that it helps the members when they do. The members are all multi-millionaires. Bang PD is a billionaire. None of them have to work another day in their lives. They are not living paycheck-to-paycheck, like I do....like many do.

So yeah. I do think that they could do more for ARMYs in providing content that is FREE, like they did with Yoongi's show. I do think that they could bring the price of their merchandise down, and to make it more affordable, for us. Especially when you factor in the shipping costs. They really could, if they wanted to.

I've done my part in buying CDs, when I wanted to and could spend the money. For the most part I have sworn off any urge to buy a tee-shirt or some other merch that I don't need. (I have 2 hoodies and 2 tees in the closet, that I never wear.) If anything I'll save up and hope to have enough for a concert ticket, if they ever come close enough to my part of the world. For me, seeing them in person still lives on my Bucket List. A live concert is a justifiable way to spend money, for me.

Sorry for this rant. Frustration over that stupid "free sticker!" got the best of me. It's probably due to just some general stresses in life that are not related to this in any way. It's just Life.

#bts #bangtan and army #spend $50 for free sticker #that sticker probably costs nothing to produce #rant post #corporate greed #they squeeze all that they can get from army #greed sucks #sorry not sorry

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nicnacsnonsense · 1 year ago

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📖 👀

Perhaps I can interest you in a Gravity Falls one, just to mix it up a bit?

Cheating a little here because I have written some of this one, but I don't know when I'll be back to it, and I do really want to share. It's sort of my Science Dad AU meets the A Better World bit from Journal 3.

(Anyone who doesn't know The Whole of Us/Science Dad AU, it a fic where Dipper & Mabel are Ford's kids from a one night stand that he didn't know about until he had a pair of five year olds dropped on his doorstep. Stan is called in to help Ford with taking care of them and Stan & Ford reconcile. Beyond that it roughtly follows the major story beats in the first part of Journal 3, with a lot of family fluff and trauma healing thrown in. And of course they get a happy ending of beating Bill before Ford falls in the portal.)

The plot of the fic was that a more canon-typical Ford shows up in the Science Dad universe in the same way that canon Ford does with the Better World excerpt in Journal 3. But really the plot was just an excuse to tour the future of the characters from the Science Dad AU, so here are the highlights.

The Institute of Oddology exists, though built around the Pines' house. It's still nearby in Gravity Falls, just not right on top of their home. Ford is the Director of the Institute, and Fiddleford -- who still has a happy relationship with his wife & son -- is the Head Researcher.

Dipper also works at the Institute, and he's acually the one who comes to fetch Ford after security takes him in. He used to be a researcher too, and he still keeps his hand in it, but his actual job title is Head of Public Outreach. He makes YouTube videos. Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained started as a little side project and ended up gaining so much traction that it's his full time job now. He's like the Bill Nye of Oddology. And the Institute funds him doing it, because it encourages interest in their still very new field.

Mabel lives in Portland and is the head of a non-profit that she founded to help combat child abuse and help victims of it. It's called "The Lucky Ones" because she refers to herself & Dipper as two of the lucky ones because they were saved by their dad. It's both a reminder that there are more kids out there that aren't so lucky, and a mission statement that they are going to save more kids and make more lucky ones. She is happily single and lives with her adopted daughter Pacifica (another one of the lucky ones) and their pet pig Waddles.

Ria still dies; I'm so sorry! But before she dies she makes Stan promise he will be there to look out for her son, keep his asshole biological father far away, and be a dad for her baby the way he was a dad for her. Soos still lives with his abuelita, but he calls Stan dad and has since he was four years old. (And he also still works for Stan of course).

Stan works at the Museum of Oddology (And Gift Shop!). This is technically a separate business from the Institute because they didn't want Ford to be Stan's boss, but it is partnered with and adjoined to the Institute. Stan and Ford also have a boat, and every other year or so they go out on a months long research expedition together, just the two of them. That's actually where they are when this fic takes place.

There's also a running joke in the story where any time someone sees Portal!Ford for the first time, they very first thing they say is "You're not Ford/my dad/my grandpa/etc." It's meant to show how close they all are that despite the two Fords nominally looking identical, everyone can immediately tell that this Ford is not their Ford. Except Stan. They do a video call to the boat and Stan immediately, without any forewarning or knowledge of the situation, smiles and says, "Hey look Ford, it's you." Because obviously Stan knows this is a different version of Ford than the one on the boat with him, but as far as Stan is concerned any version of Ford is still Ford and Ford will always be his brother.

#gravity falls #the whole of us #science dad au #stanford pines #stanley pines #dipper pines #mabel pines

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sodacansculptures · 1 year ago

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I started following you on Facebook some years ago, and then apparently forgot all about your stuff. It just popped into my head randomly and I wanted to see if you're still active and if you're still making soda can sculptures?

Hi, I apologize, I have no idea when you sent this since Tumblr (at least mobile) doesn't have time stamps, and for whatever reason, I don't get notifications about messages. You're the first person I've heard who has migrated from my Facebook page to my Tumblr, so thank you for joining the blog! Way more commentary here than there where my mom can see.

To answer your question succinctly: I am alive, and that's about the best I can say I've been since covid.

(I have donation links at the bottom, if you feel moved to want to help me.)

The extended director's cut answer:

After I made the Eevee sculpture, grad school ramped up and I figured I'd return to sculpting after I got my degree and settled into a job. However, I graduated in Spring of 2020, so the job I had lined up was withdrawn, and with all the budget cuts and layoffs in my field, I was competing for jobs with people who were trying to reenter the field and had decades more experience than me.

I did 100+ applications (I lost count at 120-something), dozens of interviews (including getting to the final round of all that had such a format--which is a stupid format. You don't need to meet me in a formal pretense 3 times, ask me riddles, have me take multiple hour-long aptitude tests, plus make me travel on my own dime just to tell me "no" and not even send like a "2nd Place Loser" gift basket or accept my LinkedIn request or anything). I got super stressed and super depressed.

I was so busy with trying to find a job and trying to deal with the breakdowns of not finding one. I tried applying in all the fields I was capable of at all levels: executive, mid, and gruntwork. I was turned down from entry level, no-talent-necessary jobs because I was overqualified. I was turned away from the others because of the lack of experience and unprecedented level and caliber of competition.

I was (still am) unable to pay my bills and, when not having breakdowns, I was calling, emailing, filling out applications, etc. for any and all financial aid. It was very arduous work and tedious with all the documentation they wanted from me, hold times on the phone, etc.

I had a non-profit (ADVOCAP) laugh at me when I asked for rent help because apparently they were overwhelmed and I wasn't going to get anything as I didn't have a job or kids and was considered a non-priority. Later when I was working with the ADRC, I asked if my case manager (I applied for disability, but I'll explain in a bit) if she knew of any rent help. She basically scolded me for asking and told me that it was unethical of me to seek that because "that's for people who actually have a chance." People who have jobs, she means. She explained that that money wasn't meant for me, and that was a whole unexpected slap in the face with a bag of dogshit. Didn't realize we had devolved into a utilitarian society quite that quickly.

I started working with FSET (my state's employment training and search help program. I was literally trying everything. Like I had also called my college and emailed all my professors asking for job help, and they had no answers other than like, "look online"). After months of no luck, FSET eventually convinced me to sign with a temp agency.

I worked 2 temp jobs that treated me like garbage (worsening my depression) and also paid me as such. I had lost all my savings to trying to stay afloat and my free time was non-existent, unless you count the hours I'd spend in the middle of the night just walking around my neighborhood listening to music--in an attempt to stop what seemed like endless crying--while I cried.

I tried selling plasma but they rejected me because I couldn't ever get my heart rate low enough, as my antidepressants increase heart rate. I tried going off of them, but I was on them for a reason, so I need to go back on.

When I graduated, I had bought myself a PS4 as a graduation gift to myself. I could afford it and thought I earned it. All the atmosphere of rejection and failure the pandemic created for me and my link to survival (employment should not be tied to survival. I was doing everything right and the system was failing me direly while virtually no one else who shared my experiences understood why I couldn't get a job when "everywhere is hiring" and "nobody wants to work anymore") and I started to hate myself for stuff like gifting myself the PS4. I felt undeserving, like a waste of resources, etc. because those were the messages I was constantly receiving directly and indirectly.

I eventually landed a job in my field and was hired on the spot. I felt like I had hit the jackpot and finally was going to be okay. Surprisingly to everyone in my life, the job made my life even worse.

I signed an NDA due to being horribly abused for the 10 months I was there, so I can't say much more than I just barely paid off my credit card, still had no free time as I was salary and worked nights and weekends in addition to my scheduled hours because the real reason they hired me instantly was not because I impressed them but rather because they were collapsing and desperate for anyone with some level of responsibility and capability. I hated that job, was bullied and abused extremely badly by coworkers and bosses and HR was no help, and when my performance review came back with negative impressions of me when I was sacrificing so much to keep the employment entity alive and functional, I completely broke.

I ended up hospitalized for months for suicide, and part of the NDA included resigning. I never fully recovered and don't think I ever will. I think I've seen and experienced too much to return to the idea that I could be the trailblazer my professors projected me to be (I now think professors don't actually provide an accurate representation of the field and encourage with no basis for their optimism).

The human mind is very easy to manipulate with propaganda, and I didn't catch myself being in a sort of “main character syndrome” and thinking that because I was Valedictorian of my graduating class and that I had so many national and international recognitions, awards, accolades, and qualifications that I was, for lack of a better term, pulling myself up by the bootstraps and going to be rewarded with a promising future where success is not just viable but imminent. I knew the world wasn't fair and that some people could do all the prescribed “right” steps and fail, but the operating paradigm (that had been ingrained in me since childhood from teachers who saw me as bright) I had held told me that I was far too talented and hard-working to fail. I had very little doubt that I wouldn't be successful. I was an ideal, hypothetical model of a pre-successful American worker.

So anyway, I didn't expect to have all the trouble that I faced finding a good job. At the end of the first summer of covid with nothing but rejections and employers affirming to me that there was nothing I could have improved on to get the job other than have prior experience, I was a discouraged worker who didn't even try anymore.

That's when FSET convinced me to do the temp agencies (who dropped me because one employer who was inhumanely abusive and ironically an HR department) gave a bullshit reason about me violating a protocol so they wouldn't have to make good on their promise to hire me after the temp period.

(I had allergies and it was literally the exact week in September when allergies were at their worst. A coworker, who hated me for some reason I never figured out and can only assume was jealousy, reported me for having a runny nose and I was immediately escorted out for bringing covid symptoms into the building. If I didn't go to work any day I had a runny nose, I wouldn't go any day. I take allergy meds literally every day of my life. My parents kept me too clean as a baby or something and didn't let me eat enough dirt, so an allergy panel showed I was allergic to every single common indoor and outdoor allergen).

Back to my suicidal hospitalization: I could say so much on the inpatient part. Suffice it to say I was never given my meds and there were no groups because they were understaffed and constantly wound up/pissed because of the uncooperative patients, so it was like prison where you had to argue with staff to get your basic needs met, and no soft surface existed and the water was always freezing, so it genuinely felt like being locked in a concrete box with no sunlight, no one on your side (they lied and said they called my psychiatrist and therapist. They never did. They also lied about ordering my meds), and no contact with the outside world. It was like a cruelly-designed Mr. Beast challenge with no reward in the end.

My friends said I was messed up for 2 weeks after and scary af because I was in survival-fight mode that would not turn off. I also was too overwhelmed by the outside world when I got out and could only eat pre-packaged snacks for a while because that was all I was used to/comfortable with.

Part of the agreement to let me leave inpatient was to do an intensive all-day outpatient program. I was actually dropped from that by insurance because I had undiagnosed ADHD among all my other issues and couldn't show up on time or sometimes at all. I still don't have my ADHD figured out because I had to convince my psychiatrist to refer me to a neuropsych who booked out for months to test me. I did it and got “Yes, much ADHD. All of the ADHD. Very wow.” So my psychiatrist finally believed me and agreed to start me on ADHD meds.

My psychiatrist and I are still working to find an ADHD med that would work for me. Vyvanse helped for a time, but my body metabolized it too quickly, leaving me with only around 6 functional hours in the day. I'm currently on extended-release Adderall, but so far not much help and there are too many other variables that could be fucking with it, like that my sleep-wake cycle is extremely unpredictable and I have a million appointments every day, so I am constantly sleep-deprived and am actually busier now than I was in grad school or any 8-hour job I worked.

The breakdown I had triggered me to develop fibromyalgia, so that has been a whole ordeal. I'm constantly in pain, it again took many months to see any doctor about it, and the meds take so long to start taking effect that we've been trying since June to find something that works.

The crucible that was my pandemic experience didn't refine me like fire refines gold or whatever the saying is but rather left me burnt, and not in the way that you can scrape the charred parts off of toast but like BURNT burnt (I can't think of an example. Maybe a popsicle. You're not getting that back once you take a flamethrower to it. Plus the stick would crumble into ash. RIP popsicle).

My life lately is a lot of appointments I often miss and have to reschedule, arguments with various agencies and even my doctors, breakdowns, and driving for Uber Eats because no one can fire me (but it pays beans and I get flack from restaurants and customers AND Uber because somehow the driver is the scapegoat for any issue that arises. I was so proud of my delivery aptitude and quality service until the tip-baiters and people being assholes for no reason started hitting me as common and daily occurrences).

A lot of people don't understand how UberEats works, but Uber doesn't even pay their driver enough to cover gas or depreciation on their vehicle for the mileage, much less the value of the driver's time and physical efforts. Tips are literally ⅔ of my income and my income does not cover my bills despite all the time I put in and algorithm I set up for myself that determines which trips to accept/reject for the most profit. It's a very toxic and unprotected form of employment. A lot of people lie that I didn't give them their food so that they can get a refund, but that comes back on me and risks my account being deactivated. It's virtually a fear-based system with some tricky artificial competition that Uber likes to throw in from time to time to convince us to drive for less and less pay.

I've looked into all the alternatives like GrubHub, Spark, DoorDash, etc. but I've been on their waiting lists for years, including GrubHub booting me off their list even though I was always quick to respond to their periodic question of if I still wanted to be on the list.

Between depression and ADHD, I can't work a normal job. I no longer have the capacity to keep a routine and can't show up to things with any level of reliability despite how badly I want to. I also don't have the spoons to deal with working with others or being accountable for tasks that feel--idk how to articulate it, but like--stupid to my autism. If something seems inefficient or not progressive (like not helpful to humanity) to me, I can't get my brain to do it. And with ADHD, if it's not interesting to me/something I am passionate about (I was extremely lucky that learning and receiving the praise from teachers I never got from my parents was my passion that got me so far and through multiple degrees), I can't get my brain to let me do it. Sometimes I just can't do anything, including things I want to do, and simply end up stuck. I wouldn't last in any job that wasn't self-directed and only happening when I have the spoons to be available. My options are very limited. And Uber can be slow. I've had times where I've waited 13 hours and not gotten a single request that wasn't going to cost me money to run.

Uber has some personal difficulties for me. In the summer, I found it a little bit fun, but now that it's cold, my Raynaud's is painful and I don't enjoy having to watch out for people who got their licenses from cereal boxes and don't know how to drive in the snow. It's an unpleasant sensory experience for me to work and honestly risky safety-wise. People don't turn on their porch lights for some reason (I have a headlamp now) and don't salt their walkways, and I'm uncoordinated because my dad didn't throw a ball at me enough as a kid probably, so there's ice, the treads on my boots are shot (and I can't afford to replace them), and I get banged up from falling on concrete.

I have a chiropractor and physical therapist, and they each said even before this that they could see me every day and still have something to work on with me. It's affirming, at least, to hear that professionals can physically feel how in pain my body is and that it's not just me being a baby. Part of it, I'm sure, is that I have PTSD (including from the traumas of my various pandemic experiences) and have horrible nightmares every night where I jerk around a lot in my sleep. I wake up every day feeling like I got hit by a bus, which is also partially why I don't get places on time.

On my own time, I'll spend 2 hours trying to get out of bed both overcoming the pain to move and convincing myself to get the willpower to. It's so much easier to just lie there and accept it, especially when I don't look forward to having to do another day. I don't feel rested because I spent the night working my body and brain, so I'm not sure I ever am rested. I need so much more sleep now, too, with fibromyalgia. This adds to my stress of outpacing my bills and just keeping up with the maintenance of myself and my apartment because that's less time I have to get things done.

I have 4 alarms (phone vibrating plus noise, an earthquake pillow one, my Fitbit vibrating on my wrist, and a Pavlok going all out screaming, vibrating, and shocking me with electricity), and it's still possible for me to sleep through all of them or somehow turn them off while half-asleep and go back to sleep. There are also times where I will be like, “Okay, getting up now,” and then I black out and it's 4 hours later and I missed 3 appointments that will take weeks to reschedule, if the clinic hasn't dropped me for the tardiness and absence. I'm running out of clinics to go to.

On a mental level, I am in a near-constant state of overwhelm that holds me inches from a full-blown, all-day breakdown at any given moment. Something about being so stressed with no relief for years on end has rewired my brain, I think, to make the adrenaline pathway so reinforced and the stress part of the brain overlit/overactive. I don't know how to relax. Doctors keep telling me I need to, especially with fibromyalgia, but I physically cannot seem to do it. I can't focus on anything like movies. Nothing is fun when I have always-present and terrorizing (by threatening my survival) pressure from all these stressors (mainly money. I'm in a constant race against my monthly bills, and each month, they creep closer and closer to outpacing me). I'm never happy to wake up and I'm always low-key scared. I'm desperate for security in any form.

I was so unable to do tasks after my suicidal breakdown that even though my psychiatrist, therapist, and general physician were begging me to apply for disability. I had hoped I just needed a few months of R&R and would be right back to being willing and able to work. That never happened, and it was extremely difficult for me to accept the fact that I was disabled. When I finally did, I begged for months for people to help me fill out all the forms (they were overwhelming me, which is, y'know, kind of a key feature of my disability) and no one did, so I lost months of time there. I eventually just had a moment of conviction or indignation or something that I was able to force myself to do them. I'm still kind of mad at everyone who didn't help.

My therapist actually did her best to help and, when the outpatient hospital ousted me because insurance refused to pay for it anymore, referred me to the county's CCS (Community Care Something-or-other) program. They gave me a worker who allegedly had some psychology- or human services-related degree who would help me function for 1 hour a week. I think the whole program is a farce and despite spending hours on this program, we accomplished absolutely nothing.

The first CCS worker I had was supposed to come over to my place (which had become a mess. I was a messy person before, as my apartment was a graveyard of unfinished projects due to my ADHD), but with my extended burnout, I wasn't cleaning and organizing on the level I used to. So I texted my CCS person a warning that my kitchen table was cluttered. I mean it to mean, “It will take me a minute to clear the table once you get here for your laptop for you to finish the unreasonably long entry paperwork on me, and I haven't gotten the energy to declutter it yet and won't until you get here because my ADHD needs a body double right now. She, for reasons I still don't understand, canceled the visit and never came. When I confronted her about what I meant, she was like…embarrassed to the point of not being willing to work with me anymore. There was a communication breakdown that I couldn't get her to communicate with me and she was somehow scared of how much and how articulated or something I communicated that she shut down.

I understand I “overcommunicate” from the perspective of allistics and neurotypicals [I had a bad childhood and was invalidated and wrongly blamed for things a lot, so I give as much explanation as possible to avoid any misunderstanding and articulate to the point that there won't be any ambiguities and thus can't be twisted into reason to punish me when I've done nothing to earn punishment. My caretakers as a child had their own mental issues that led them to being unreliable/unsafe to me and didn't offer me any feelings of security in relationships, perspective of reality (them taking their anger out on me and telling me everything, including their personal problems, was my fault), and ultimately everyone seems to say they want transparency and communication, but from my experiences and perspective, they don't want that. I have no idea what they really want. I give the level of communication I would want someone to give me and hope that they will just discard the parts they don't need/want, and apparently that's me being a burden or something and a “bad” quality.

Meanwhile, I WISH people would communicate and be transparent with me more. I think I am an understanding person who has done enough work on themselves to not repeat toxic patterns and be a healthy relationship to others. I don't listen to judge but to understand so I can work with the other person to fix any problems and work with what we got, not devalue them and distance myself or abandon them. Everyone on dating apps says they want this, but I've yet to meet someone who does. I think it's that people see this as an ideal but are unskilled at the time to play their role in the situation–both in offering and responding. I think I've put so many years of therapy and introspection into working on myself that others just haven't, so we're simply on different levels. I know I'm not alone in my experiences, but it's very isolating when you don't meet people who have done the same work.

Anyway, I got assigned a new CCS worker and she did not do all that work I described. When I was told I would be assigned to someone else, I specifically asked for one who has seen some shit and that nothing I do or say will move them. They did at least give me someone older with more experience, but she either over- or under-estimated me (I can't discern which). She, working in the same building as my therapist and being basically in at least a good bit of communication with her when I wasn't around, knew that I had a lot of crap going on that I needed more therapy/support/help unraveling and making sense of and peace with than the 45 min/week I got with my current therapist. So she offered to be like a second therapist and said I could tell her absolutely anything.

As the pattern of this narrative likely already cues, it turned out I could not tell her absolutely anything. I was a few months into my transition and no one prepares you for some of the changes. My endocrinologist had only told me, “You might go bald.” I thought my years of research and consulting with transmen in my life had encompassed all I needed to know. However, we sometimes do not know what we don't know and thus don't think to ask the questions we need to ask. As probably an autistic/abused person trait of mine, I speak very clinically and technically. At the time, I had recently been speaking with my therapist about anatomical changes that triggered emotions I was not prepared for. I attempted the same sort of conversation with my new CCS worker, but she yelled me for being inappropriate. Not just scolded but legit yelled, as if I wasn't a full grown adult capable of reason and discussion.

I was confused on what I did wrong, since I thought I was just taking her up on what she willingly offered. I am also a firm believer in the Mister Rogers quote about how anything that is mentionable is manageable (which goes back to why I don't listen to judge but rather to collaborate and also why I see disagreements as us vs. the problem rather than me vs. them. I do not feel the need to yell at someone unless it's like an emergency of some sort and there's a threat that yelling can somehow address and be beneficial to the situation).

From my perspective, I was being shut down and punished/shamed for asking for help with a problem that legit scared me and that I was willing to be vulnerable enough to share. I consider that sort of thing sacred and not something that can be trusted in everyone's hands. But the way she responded, to me, reinforced that I was a person unworthy of help: a message received from my childhood caretakers and all the people who were supposedly there to help me during my pandemic crises.

I couldn't bring myself to trust her anymore or even want to see her again. I'll admit that's a bit of my Emotional Dysregulation Disorder weighing in, but I didn't want her in any intimate spaces I'd need to let her into in order to serve me in her CCS capacity. I had had too many things go wrong lately in that time to not shut myself down to prevent more hurt by simply refusing any future opportunity for more hurt to occur. I was well beyond my limit and it took much convincing from my therapist for me to even give CCS a chance to help me.

Still, I asked to be reassigned to another CCS worker, this time knowing that I could not trust what they claim to offer and just keep the things we work on surface-level functioning--like cleaning my oven or going through the pile of mail I hadn't opened in weeks because their potential contents paralyzed me with fear.

I was denied my request and let go from the program as they felt I had burned through 2 workers and thus proven that I am not a good candidate for the program. I still don't agree with this and argued, but after weeks of (a reasonable number of) periodic emails and voicemails, I never got an email or call back. In hindsight, I maybe should have reported to the county what happened, but it's been like a year.

That mostly brings us back to the present. I have been back in FSET since Spring but just focusing on staying afloat with Uber/working on whatever I can handle. I had a whole researched and designed pitch asking them to fund the several hundred dollars it would be for me to become a mobile notary, but they denied my request as they lack the funds. They also denied my request for new boots for the Uber hazards because they felt it was a fashion thing and not a need. Agencies, or honestly anyone with any power over me, not understanding me even with my articulate, crystal-clear explanations isn't surprising to me anymore. And counterintuitively, more explanation (even from different approaches) does not help and just makes me think I'm weird, which somehow is taken as more cause to not grant whatever request it is I am making in the first place.

So I Uber, I argue with doctors and agencies to try to get my needs met, and I have breakdowns despite my efforts to not. I have always had a massive list of more sculptures I want to make. I do want to get to a point where I can make them someday. I've been waiting on disability for an answer for nearly a year and done all I can to bolster my case with getting doctor testimonies, giving my testimony, noting clinic visits so the person assigned to my case can view the findings of them, getting an ADRC contact to guide me (though looking back, she didn't help at all and it was me searching out and discovering everything on my own while all she did was forward what documentation I had to the state for me)... All I can do is try to survive until they say “yes,” but they usually say “no” first (which is why an alarming number of people file bankruptcy and/or die waiting for a disability decision), especially since mental health reasons are the hardest ones to get approved, and my ADRC contact has been using language such as, “This will make it easier for next time,” and I'm not prepared to hear her tell me she thinks we'll have to file another claim and wait another year, so I don't ask

I feel terrible that I've not been sculpting or posting. I miss engaging the Tumblr community and sharing my art with people who appreciate it (and not tell me it's garbage. Wtf, Grandma).

The fact that I couldn't actually bring myself to commit suicide and still don't even though the extremely-difficult-to-survive--particularly with multiple debilitating ailments--and high cost I incur daily to myself trying to keep my head above water as long as I can, tells me that there is a life better than this that I want to live. I can't fathom for myself anything other than what is current, and I am putting all my chips into believing that I could be wrong and there's a chance all my striving will eventually meet stable ground to rest upon, where I can return to myself and make art again. I hate to think this wreck is who I really am and want to believe this is just who I am under a stupid-amount of pressure that no human should ever have to endure. A lot of people have been quick to point out all the resources, but I guarantee I've pursued all of them hard and received some help but not nearly enough. It's hard to wrestle with the feelings of not being enough to live or not being worthy of living because it's such a struggle for me to throw enough money at bills/expenses to allow me to live. It shouldn't cost someone all of themselves to try (and imminently fail) to earn the allowance to live.

Things like the ACP and student loan freeze (I owe $80,000+ because college is an overpromising, commercialized thing that is more gamble than guarantee) are ending soon (or maybe have ended and I just haven't opened my mail to know), and I'm deathly afraid. Uber isn't enough and on down-times with them and when my various ailments aren't being debilitating, I work on selling things to try to make enough for the month. Obviously I'm eventually going to run out of things to sell.

I'm also fearful that my estimated disability check, if I get one, is only going to be $900/month, because I didn't get enough work experience to be allowed more. I genuinely don't know that that's going to be enough, especially since the price of everything like rent is inflating. I don't know how long I can financially sustain my means of survival. But I'm still doing everything I can. It's jarring to go from decorated Valedictorian to…whatever exhausted mess this is.

My parents stopped asking me months ago how things are going because they know it's never good. They don't have the means to help me as my mom got laid off of work, my dad has dementia and doesn't work, and if I have to live with them again, I would essentially be signing off on my own death certificate because even spending a few hours in that home, with those people, is enough to completely drain me, trigger so much PTSD, grind my mental health down even more with whatever new dynamics and energies they decide to inject in our interactions. I wasn't free to fight the battles I needed to until I moved out into my own private space, and since it is the cheapest option in the entire city and so necessary of a component to my mental health, my therapist identified keeping my apartment as my number one priority. With my mental health, I wouldn't do well at all or be able to get back on my feet if I was homeless.

This turned into a lot more than I intended, but I'm really satisfied that it explains my situation and makes it known that you can do everything right and still lose. The system will cannibalize you if you don't have money to start with and don't have the means to keep it coming. Poverty charges interest and there are no days off, especially if you're disabled. There are no real safetynets and the ones that exist are overwhelmed, underfunded, underpowered, and essentially only serve to make the ones who don't need them feel satisfied (and aren't outraged and pushing for changes) being sold the lie that those who need help have it available to them. Having an inside view of what the experience is, I am apalled at how little systemic support or consideration there is for the disabled, especially since it is the largest minority group that anyone can join at any time.

Some days suck worse than others, like when the weather is so bad that I cannot Uber or when my pain or mental state has been aggravated and I haven't made enough time for self-care so it has decided for me when self-care must be attended to. I wish I could give myself the self-care my mind and body need so I can be healthier, more resilient to setbacks, and feel less pain, but honestly some nights I don't even go to bed because there isn't enough time/I can't afford to not be working or selling things. Society likes to frame self-care as a luxury and only recently (since covid attacked everyone's mental health) did self-care start to be widely accepted as a need. It's just too bad all that rhetoric amounted to is awareness without action. Capitalism still demands and glorifies the nonstop grind, even if it kills us.

Obviously some days are better than others and it feels incredible when I feel a genuine smile spread across my face. I wish it wasn't so foreign of a feeling, but the fact that it is makes it more impactful. I try to give my attention to hope, even if I have no practical basis to believe it exists.

Receiving this ask did ultimately bring a smile to my face because it means I'm still cared for in a world that kicks me to the ground daily and says I don't deserve care. It is so hard for me to even care about myself a lot of the time, with all the negative messages I've internalized from my dominatingly high ratio of experiences that are rejection or failure in some form. Ultimately, we all just want to be loved. Thank you so much for reminding me that pain isn't all there is for me (it's easy to get sucked into that mindset after years of nearly everything gutting me. I often fail to even notice myself falling into it and being consumed by it).

I know I don't owe anyone an explanation for my absence and that no one is mad at me or blaming me for it that I would need to provide some sort of justification. But I wanted to communicate with you all because I love you. I genuinely mean that.

I still think about this from time to time and I still want come back to making and sharing sculptures and just having fun hearing all the things you have to say about them and how delighting, inspiring, or entertaining you find them. I consider the ability to do that and this Tumblr page to be one of my greatest things I've made. I don't care about money and despise that money dictates virtually every aspect of my life in the worst way. Community, creativity, and self-improvement motivated by joy/love rather than profit/fear are of infinitely more value to me. I'm still pursuing that dynamic in the end through all of this.

By no means is anyone obligated to donate to me, but if you can afford to and want to, I'll post my payment platform things below (some may still have my birth name attached). Any amount helps and Lord knows I dove for a penny on the ground last week.

If you can't donate but still want to help, reblogging can help no matter how little reach you feel your blog has, and I also would appreciate words of encouragement or support. I also just want you to know that if you've been reading this far, I really appreciate that you care enough about me to do that.

All of my love,

Stan

(They/Them)

PayPal:

@Stanwagner09

Venmo:

@asclw7643

Zelle:

[email protected]

#Thank you everyone for your support #and thank you chronically-issy for checking in on me #chronically-issy

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diagnosed-overthinker · 3 months ago

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Just saw a pro-nuclear post and I have an opinion and no one can stop me cause its my blog:

I am against nuclear power, but not for the reasons you think.

I agree with the science that proves that on basically all metrics nuclear is safer and more environmentally friendly. I know that it is easy enough to transport and store nuclear waste safely, and I know it isn't sci-fi luminescent green goop in barrels. I also acknowledge the advances made in reactor tech that make our current day reactors much safer and efficient than those from last century.

Nuclear power works and is a viable source of base load power. I do not contest this. The reason I am against nuclear is because of the possibility of exploitation by the private sector.

Nuclear power may start off government-owned, but corporations with interests in the field WILL lobby for privatisation. This has happened before with fossil fuels, especially in own country. Once nuclear is privatised, safety standards will drop, prices will go up, and we still won't be able to afford electricity even though massive savings were made. Who made those savings? The corporations of course. And they won't be sharing them with you.

For this reason I am a big believer in personal solar energy production. Governments investing in solar companies will not lead to the same kind of privatisation that nuclear and fossil fuels experience. This is because it's much easier to set up a plant to make solar panels than to get a Uranium mine. Not to mention the fundamental difference between solar and nuclear: solar is a one-time purchase, nuclear is a subscription. A good solar array will last you 25-30 years with minimal maintenance, whereas you have to pay energy bills every month for nuclear power.

This isn't to say solar is perfect. It doesn't work at night or when it's cloudy, and thus can't act as base load power. I acknowledge that we will need some nuclear power, but I also believe that the media push towards nuclear isn't nuanced enough and will lead to another age of dependence on corporations. We should dispell the myths about nuclear, but also keep in mind that nuclear is the next vehicle for corporate profits at the expense of the consumer.

I don't deny the issues with sourcing silicon for solar panels, and the problem of mining companies exploiting and abusing local populations to extract every dollar they can from the Earth. These problems are present in all our energy production however, and to discard solar but not nuclear or coal for this reason is dishonest.

TL;DR: I am against nuclear because of the threat of privatisation by corporations, and I believe encouraging the use of solar is much better than using purely nuclear.

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aelfgiure · 7 months ago

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I stumbled out into the garden, clutching the papers in my hands and trying not to howl, to scream in rage and loss. After surviving the heart attack, going through the rehab, working my ass off to pull my life together again, the bank had decided to really fuck me over. Fuck me over so hard I didn't know if I could ever recover from it.

Foreclosure. I'd had a few months where the mortgage payment was late, but I'd always paid, damn it! Even when it meant that I lived off foraged stuff, or the occasional bag of groceries from the food pantry, I paid them. Damn them! I fell into the 'nest' I'd made of willow withies to curl up around my hurt and just cry. After all I'd survived, all I'd done to keep it together and keep my home, I was about to lose it all, forever.

There were no savings. I'd just started bankruptcy proceedings because the medical bills were killing me all over again, paying off the damn things would take me multiple lifetimes, so I gritted my teeth, and bit the bullet, knowing my credit rating would be utter shit for the next seven goddamn years. That was when Wells-Fargo swooped in with the totally legal 'expedited foreclosure', so they could evict me before the bankruptcy hearing and resell the house to someone with money, probably a broker or an investor, damn them to hell. Once again, someone was going to profit off my pain and loss, and I was screwed.

"Tss, tss, tss, friendling. Why tears? Why weeping?"

The soft, silvery whispers got my attention, and I wiped my eyes so I could focus on the TRUE owners of the property, not that they thought of it that way, ever. They swarmed over me, crooning and shushing, and if I was reading their tone and body language correctly, they were concerned. They hummed and whispered and talked, faster than I could follow, maybe it was a language that I didn't know, hard to tell with the Good Folk.

"I'm so, so sorry, my good friends," I managed to smile a little. "I'm sad because I'm going to have to move away."

It was getting weird. More of them kept showing up, more than I'd ever met before, and they mood was somewhere between sorrow and anger.

"WHY?"

Um. Okay, that was the hard part. How do you explain modern banking to a group of Beings who don't do banks, or modern, really? I did my best. I had the paperwork right there, after all, so I translated the 'lawyer talk' into real talk, did my best to tell them about the laws that gave the banks the right to take the house back. Even after all I had done, all I had gone through, they were going to take my house and evict me, because they could.

The crowd grew, and that was getting disconcerting because this was a much bigger group than I'd met before, and they were all talking at once, to each other. Some of them understood what was going on, so they were explaining it in terms the others could comprehend. This was getting intimidating; they were all getting worked up in a way I'd never seen before. The hissing and whispering kept increasing as their mood turned angry.

Then silence.

The one who had introduced himself to me first, as I sang and weeded my garden, pulling out the noxious invasives and encouraged the violets to grow and take over, Good Fellow, came up to me. They touched the paper, then gently, softly, touched my head. I held my breath because this had gotten waaaay out of my experience and pay grade, but at this point I was beyond fear. I thought.

When Good Fellow exploded in rage, yeah, that was a moment when I thought death was going to have to assemble the bits before I could get hauled off. Somehow, I was on my knees, babbling and crying, apologizing to them.

"I'm sorry! Oh, Good Neighbor, I'm so, so damn sorry, I tried so hard and I'm sorry I failed-" I barely knew what I was saying, didn't dare to look up at them because that level of anger was nothing a human could endure.

"Hush, gardener. I have no wrath towards you." They touched my shoulder, guiding me back to the withy nest. "Go make tea, bring it here, and wait. Quickly, now!"

Huh. I dashed inside and made my favourite tea, the one with all the spices and dried fruit that tasted like a summer afternoon. I put together the best tea tray I could do on no notice. You can bet there was NO iron anywhere near that tray, and only the very best of what I had available. Not that I knew what was going on, but when in doubt, make it the fanciest setting you have. Especially when dealing with a gang of pissed off fae.

Setting up the tea things soothed my soul, as always. The moon had just started to rise, and the lightning bugs were dancing across the yard, among the herbs and flowers. Almost midsummer, one of the holy days of the year, one of my favorites. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, it would've been a wonderful scene, the tea party in the garden, under the moonlight.

The fae kept up their commentary as I set the low table, arranged the refreshments and tea things, some of them gathering flowers to deck the table, and the chair, and my hair. It was sweet, just like so many other times I'd served tea for them here, and yes, it made my eyes water a bit, knowing that I wasn't going to be here for them.

This time, their sudden silence was like an indrawn breath. Good Fellow poked me in the ribs, whispering to me, "best to kneel now, gardener. The Nobles are here."

It was a rushing of wind, almost like an echo of a great procession, with horses and strange hounds and beasts beyond description, and the Lords and Ladies of the Faery Court filling my cottage garden, a scene both awesome and terrifying. My heart was straining, and I tried to keep myself calm, figuring if I died in front of the Nobles they might consider that a bit rude.

"So you're the mortal gardener Goodfellow mentioned. Look up at Us, human child."

The voice was utterly inhuman and I couldn't have disobeyed it if I wanted to. Silk was rough in comparison, honey sour and bitter compared to that voice. It was birdsong and thunder, and sweet budding flowers and the ageless depths of creation, all at once.

The Queen and King of Faery were there, looking down at me. I can't describe them, because there are no good words for it. Just that they were ancient, and Noble, and they held all things within them for good or ill, and as long as I live nothing will ever compare to the way they looked down at me, with care and compassion far beyond mortal comprehension, and even affection for me, for this dying scrap of life giving them their due obeisance. Had they asked it, I would have done anything for them, without a second thought or a moment's delay.

Things got... strange then. Time does weird things around the Fae, and it's worse, a thousand times worse around the Court and the Queen and King. I know I served tea. I know there was conversation, and a discussion about the foreclosure, and the banks and all. There was a moment when They took a hair from my head, wrapping it around Their finger, so They could actually come inside my house to see how I lived, and there was much questioning about everything, touching and tasting and examining it all. It was like a dream, but one of those dreams that feel more real than being awake and where everything has meaning.

I woke up in the garden, in the nest. The sun sparkled on the dew as it rose, the sunrise full of joy and promise. I was bewildered for a moment, trying to remember how I'd gotten out here, and saw that I had been wrapped in a cloak of strange, beautiful material, stuff I'd never seen before. Unlike the rest of the garden, I wasn't covered in dew, I was dry, and warm.

"hssst!"

Goodfellow grinned at me, and waved me towards the house. "Do you go in now, and wait. News is coming!"

Well, you know the rest. The collapse of the major banks, the prosecution of the CEOs of most of the financial institutions. The way the world changed, profoundly and strangely. It's been an adjustment for everyone, even me.

But I still get to serve tea in my garden.

Some fairies have taken residence on your property, and have grown fond of you, as much as those with such alien morals can. And they are not happy when the bank tried to foreclose on you.

#writing prompt s #me and my scribbles #the fae

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shoujoboy-restart · 1 year ago

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I don't dislike the concept of federal bailouts for big corporations who's bankruptcy can impact an country's entire economy.

I just dislike that it seems to be completely inconsequential for the corporation while it it obviously affect the economy maybe even worse than if just let them fail, so here's some of my suggestions for how bailouts should actually work if we were to keep them:

It should absolutely follow a loan-like formula without financial gain for the provider (the state), since the state should only generate social profit not financial, instead the company would have to give shares and seat in their table to the lender(the state)

Let's say Apple went trought a crisis and lost 50% of their value and are on the edge of going bankrupt, if they decide to opt for this theoretical federal bailout, whatever amount they ask for will be paid back by the corp accepting state representatives now having executive positions within their company

those representatives being public workers with the proper qualifications for the position they will hold and NO actual congress or law making power to mitigate the conflict of interest

i.e if they ask for 1 billion in bailout, that amount will be converted into shares within the company based PRE-crisis(or even more specifically on whatever is the historical registered highest for that company), if before the theorical crisis someone investing 1 billion into Apple gave them 10% of decision power within the company, it means the state now has 10% control of the company and whatever amount of hoar meeting chairs that fills

Also to be elegeable for the loans the company MUST be or turn itself into a private investiment company, however they must also share value and net worth publicly

Any meetings, partners and other investiments specially attempts to buy other companies must be announced fully publicaly as well

The company will now follow federal guidelines and regulations, they will not discriminate in anyway shape or form when hiring, will now have diversity qoutas, follow the highest minimum wage payments and basic benefits for federal workers as well and they will not be able to fire without proper justification for it or compulsive severance payments for out of the blue firing

The companies will also be under much more rigorous anti trust laws.

Companies found to commit tax fraud should also be penalized with this same scheme or choose financial capital punishment aka be closed out and have all their acessets liquidated and used for public benefit (funds for education, military, infrastructure, etc)

If the company finds itself in more crisis and decides to seek more federal bailout, the private owners are the only ones with the voting power to decide to seek it or not

"oh my god this is so controlling and it just doesn't let the company have profits like before" yeah pretty much lmao, the company is literally saving their own ass from their own irresponsibility or fraud with public money, they absolutely should not be profiting like before since it fucked over other this much, also, this will not be the only loan available, if a private bank or corporation wants to give a loan to a company that they trust they are still allowed and won't be punished or restricted beyond common sense financial protection to their average clients.

"but what private bank would trust billions of loans to a companies that got itself in a crisis?" EXACTLY! So why should the fucking taxpayer be footing the bill for a irresponsible business owner that no other business owner would trust with no damn social benefits at all?

We must stop fueling and normalizing the privatization of profit and socialization of financial loss when it comes to irresponsible corporations, that get bailouts and subsidies from the government and come up with loopholes to fire their employees and not pay their fair share of taxes

In the current system they can just fail and fail and fail again without any material loss, they just cry to big daddy government to take their debts and failures and make you pay for it, in this theorical system, the more they fail and seek handouts from the government, the more the company becomes public, simple as that. Don't want to be under this much restriction and scrutiny? Don't get a federal bailout, and hope some bank gives you a loan or philanthropist fells sorry for you like the rest of us.

#discourse #economy #federal bailout #capitalism #socialism #Communism

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flamboyantposting · 2 years ago

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the only thing it ever feels like when I'm told personal responsibility is the ideal trait is just

how to put this

I can't be the only person to know what it feels like to be personally responsible for yourself in a very conscious way, that is, to look after my health, my upkeep, my relationships, being cognizant of others and their preferences, which I must identify as separate from their boundaries that are respected at all times, and the very real fact that if I begin to slide back on ANY of these things, boundaries exempted, through any combination of factors,

that I am then a burden to be carried, because I failed to be capable of following through on some level, and therefore must be made to feel ashamed for not meeting this standard. This pervasive idea of being responsible for yourself and yourself alone, particularly when being "financially independent" is a mandatory checklist item for personal responsibility, and really now.

I speak from a position of personal responsibility for my finances and let me tell you, shit's fucked. Money means practically nothing in the face of the number of bills when working for an hourly wage. Moving out and taking on

rent

utilities

food

insurance

phone service

internet service

transportation costs (ranging from bus fare to car payments and maintenance)

somehow there should be some money to put into savings here but how much is left?

No seriously how much of a paycheck is left after this?

Can you hang out with friends at all now?

It's not a bad question to ask. How many hours a week would you really have to work to make this feasible? And then how many hours do you need to sleep? What about the rest of the responsibilities left in the rest of your life? Have you done the dishes? Fed the dog? The cat? Did you get everything on your grocery list? can you afford the time to go back to grocery store? would that be a waste of gas for one thing? what about the laundry? The bed needs making, probably. Any trash cans left in the room that need to be emptied?

Huh? A hobby? When?

I am extremely lucky to have the time available to me to do the things I want to do, but I also don't have the capacity to move out to even attempt something like this. To move out and be "personally responsible" in a world that demands everyone be as such instead of, you know, having friends and family and real actual support nets to fall back on when things become too much to handle individually, how are we supposed to have the time or money to actually get the help needed?

It's not just being personally responsible, it's asking if this world is worth being responsible for. This is our home, this is where we are here and now, this is what we have done to ourselves and the world around us. Cramming our days into segmented hours of life because the function we have in the world we build is to keep the arm of profits and investments growing. it just hurts to think about it sometimes when I wake up and look at the calendar, waiting for the sweet embrace of a weekend.

by god it'll be friday night soon

youtube

#long post #Youtube

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thrown-away-opinions · 2 years ago

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My angle on this topic is always to ask why the barista can't afford to live in "comfort and dignity and safety" etc, and the answer is often that people incorrectly assert that the barista isn't being paid enough, which isn't the barista's problem. The actual problem is that the barista cannot afford to live in comfort, safety, dignity, etc. Because the cost of housing and rent is obscenely overvalued. Because the taxes on the barista's meager paycheck, along with the taxes they pay on everything they buy, and the fees, and insurance, and licenses, and other little costs that have been foisted by the government onto the barista and everyone else.

Yes, making and serving coffee is cool and nice and fun and whatever... But it's not hard. It's not that valuable, either. There's a functional limit to what can be paid out to any barista, and that limit is a 1 or 2% percentage profit margin, in most cases, because the business is also paying rent, taxes, fees, licenses, etc, on everything, because the problem isn't greed. It's the government. Again.

Now, I do think it should be possible for a full-time worker to afford to live comfortably, as well... But how we define comfort is where things are going to differ. As we've already seen from the famous "stop spending your money on funkopops" post, people don't like the idea that living comfortably means paying your bills and not spending more than you earn. It means not expecting to live in excess and luxury and having modest, reasonable desires that don't involve ordering ubereats or doordash 10 times a week. It means you don't buy the latest iphone and putting all extra money into savings, because you never fucking know when you're actually going to need it more than you're going to need a rare Star Wars funkopop.

For some, that is acceptable, but for many others, the goal is to have so much money in their weekly paycheck that they can afford all of their bills and still have so much money left over that they can spend indiscriminately and never feel financially insecure. Essentially still living paycheck to paycheck, but "comfortably" in a sense... and there's no fucking way that any coffeeshop can actually afford to pay a wage high enough to support that and still have people willing to pay hundreds of bucks per cup. Which is why the message of "please seek a better career" is a more realistic and reasonable suggestion.

Eliminating the government's disastrous financial policies and taxes would be better, especially if coupled with a cultural shift towards financial responsibility and long-term planning... But saying that coffee is good and necessary, so therefore we should give baristas more money is fucking dumb, no matter how nicely and cleverly you dress it up.

If you know someone who speaks dismissively of people working service or retail jobs, please remind them that they are bad.

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down-in-devildom · 3 years ago

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Hello! I saw that your request is open. Can I request for some hcs for the brothers with a very giving mc, but when they try to do something nice for them they get defensive/guilty like "who are you why are you nice to me I'M the nice one here, don't do nice things for me I feel bad?!?" And tries not to burden them in any way. Thank you! I love the way you write uwu

Thank you for the request! Also, I hope people will let others do nice things for them without thinking they don't deserve it or something. You are worth being treated well!!!😤 I also had a hard time naming this request...

Brothers react to MC not accepting returned favors

cw: guilt tripping(?)

Lucifer

Lucifer was enjoying a date with MC after completing a sizable portion of his work early thanks to them lending a hand. They were dining at the Ristorante Six when he noticed MC scanning the menu very intensely

The grimace the MC did every so often raises some concerns for him. When the MC says that they want to order a small soup of the day, Lucifer looks at them with a raised brow

He could have sworn MC would be famished after having their lunch stolen from them by Beelzebub around noon. MC could not have possibly have had the time to eat a snack, what with all the paperwork and organizing they did for him after classes to try to lighten his workload

When Lucifer asked if that would be enough, MC's stomach let out a mighty roar in response. Lucifer was now suspicious that MC was holding back for some reason so he decides to order the food for the both of them. He signals for a waiter and makes sure to order MC's soup of the day as well as a dish or two he believes would be to their taste

When MC starts to protest about not wanting to be a burden and have him pay a fortune, Lucifer waves off the concerns and assures them they needn't worry about that. Besides, he wants nothing more than for MC to enjoy themselves after helping him earlier

"I don't want to burden you and make you pay for my meal. I am always happy to help but I don't want you to feel obligated to do something in return."

Lucifer is taken aback before he sighs and gives MC a serious and pointed look. "I am a demon that takes pride in my ability to deal out suitable punishments and rewards as I see fit. It will do you well not to question my generosity"

Mammon

Mammon felt like he was in debt to MC for helping him study and pass his latest exam. He could not afford to fail his fourth semester in a row without Lucifer finding out and skinning him alive! He doesn’t normally feel the need to do anything to actually pay people back, but he felt like he really owed MC for this one

When Mammon and MC were visiting the flea market to find some cool trinkets that can probably be resold for a profit on Akuzon, he noticed the MC’s gaze lingering on a small golden ring with intricate engravings. He makes a bit of a show of paying for the ring before losing some of his bravado and shoving his hand in the MC’s face and demanding they take it

MC looks a bit confused before thinking it was something that Mammon thought would resell well and tried to put it in the basket they carried to hold the rest of their haul

“No, ya got it all wrong. I got it for ya to- ya know- thank ya for helpin’ me the other day. I woulda been a goner without you...or something” he mumbles while trying not to look directly at them

“That’s funny and all but what’s the catch? I’m pretty sure you don’t normally give away things or do anything without expecting anything in return”

Although MC does not appear to mean any harm from the comment, it kind of stung a little for Mammon. They can’t seem to grasp that they were special and he WANTED to give them things.

Mammon becomes a bit more sullen about the ordeal and may not give anything directly to the MC from then on. He will opt instead to leave little trinkets in their room or claim he found some trash he needed to get rid of (even though it would clearly be something of value). He does not really know how to show his thanks in any other way so he is kind of stuck in a cycle of trying to backhandedly show his gratitude without his motives being questioned

Satan

Satan’s room was an absolute mess, more so than usual, when MC was kind enough to lend a hand in helping him organize his massive collection of books into something a little less chaotic

He found an ancient tome full of old runes and herbal medicines that he thought he saw MC flipping through while taking a quick break from organizing his things, and assumed it would be a nice token of his gratitude. It was inlaid with gold leaf and the engraved relief on the cover was done with a clearly skilled hand, making the old book really stand out

“Please, take this tome as payment for your time. I would have lost my mind, surely, if you did not help me in my time of need, like you did”

MC’s eyes widened with surprise before seeming to nod and say they would return the book to him later, after they take down some notes for their next hex exam. When he clarifies that he wishes for them to keep the book, MC looked taken aback

“I couldn’t possibly take one of your books! I don’t expect anything for helping you out and you shouldn’t feel the need to pay me back for something I was more than willing to do anyway. It is kind of weird for you to want to give away your books like this when you closely monitor anybody else that takes them”

Satan’s eyebrow twitches just the slightest and he has to keep his smile in place to try to not alarm MC when his irritation spikes slightly. They don’t seem to understand that him thanking them with a gift versus him guarding his collection from Mammon are two different things entirely

He leans a bit into the MC’s space with his smile still plastered on and looks them dead in the eyes. “Do you mean to tell me that the tome is not to your liking?” MC kind of feels forced to take the book and thanks Satan before making a hasty retreat to their own room. Satan takes the newfound space to clear his mind and start thinking of other ways that he can possibly approach the matter in the future without pressuring MC into accepting his generosity

Asmodeus

Asmo’s life and reputation was saved when MC responded to his emergency text asking for a very specific shirt to be brought to his photoshoot. One of the assistant demons did NOT get the memo when he said that he was more of a skull-scream peach kind of guy then a wailing-melon toned guy and the outfit assembly was not doing his beautiful complexion any favors

When Asmo got out from his shoot, he felt like he absolutely had to repay MC for going out of the way for him. He went straight to Majolish and picked out a new outfit for them that he was sure they would look absolutely fantastic in and then hurried home to wrap it up nicely

Asmo presents the gift with flourish before asking for the MC to open it so he can watch their reaction. Asmo was not disappointed by the stunned look on their face and the silent ‘o’ their mouth made, but got a little put out when they said they could not possibly accept it. Didn’t they like it? Surely he did not pick something that wasn’t to their taste

“I can’t accept this, Asmo, it is way too sweet and generous of a gift! I had to go in the direction of your shoot today anyway so it wasn’t a burden to drop off your shirt. Please don’t reward me for something like that!”

Asmo has met a variety of demons and people over the millenia and can tell that there was something about the gift itself that was making them uncomfortable. He still is firm with them and insists that if he spent the grimm on them, they should take the gift, but starts thinking of other ways to maybe show his thanks in the future

Do words of praise and gratitude make them squirm? How about physical affection? Would a kiss count as a thanks they are willing to accept? He sure hopes so but he wants to show he appreciates them and will try to show it in any way possible until they accept it

Beelzebub

Beelzebub was starving! More so than usual and that is not a pretty sight. He was at RAD during one of the classes when he noticed that his snack bag had mysteriously gone missing when he tried to reach in to pull out a protein bar. His stomach loudly protested and he was starting to eye up some of his classmates as if they were on the menu. MC saved the day when they came rushing in with the aforementioned missing snack bag, that they found in the hallway

Beel was able to happily munch away for the rest of the lesson and it seemed like the whole class let out a collective sigh of relief. Beel was very grateful for the MC taking the time to deliver him his snack bag and decided to treat them to Hell’s Kitchen after school

MC agreed to go willingly and ordered their food while Beel asked for well over half the menu. After they ate, Beel reached for the tab but found slight resistance when he finally looked at the bill and saw MC’s hand was also on it. When Beel stated that it was his treat for them saving him early, he was met with some pushback

“Please do not feel like you have to pay for me. Giving you the snack bag was for everybody’s benefit, so it actually came from a place of selfishness, really. I do not deserve you paying for me.”

Beel’s heart pinged a little at that. Did MC mean he was so close to losing control that they only helped him out of pity? Out of fear? He knew he was a big and his hunger knew no end, but it kind of hurt to be seen as a threat that needed to be controlled with readymade snack bags like that

Beel kind of shakes it off quickly enough and starts to think that maybe they just didn’t like the meal as much as him and was trying to spare him from paying for something they didn’t really want. He takes the time to watch MC over the next few days to see if there are other foods that they may like better. That was the problem, right? Maybe something from Madam Screams was more their style? How about that crepes stand in the park that was super delicious?

Belphegor

Belphegor was not having a great day. For one, he was awake and for two, he was tasked with doing laundry for HoL this week and he was super behind on his assigned chore. If Asmo pestered him one more time about properly separating out the colors and Lucifer lectured him about how to properly fold fitted sheets, he may just have to be imprisoned in the attic again. Luckily for him, MC took some time out of their schedule to help him finish quicker

Belphie was thankful enough that he figured he could allow them to nap with him as an award. Do not mind the fact that MC always takes naps with him but this time can be a little bit special. He nicked a projector from RAD the following day and set it up in the attic so that it would project constellations on the walls and ceilings. He also made a really comfortable pillow fort for them to share. This took a lot of work on Belphie’s part so it was a privilege for MC to join him

When the MC finally arrived at the attic after Bephie texted them to meet him up there, they were not expecting the space to be turned into such a nice and cozy room. Belphie explained that it was as a thank you for the help the other day after they kept just standing in the doorway. He then demanded they came and laid down with him

“You didn’t have to put all this work into making this space for me! It was just folding laundry. It wasn’t that big of a deal, I promise”

Belphie turns his back on them and kind of pouts into his pillow. If they don’t appreciate him sacrificing sleep to make them happy and feel appreciated, then who cares. He can nap just fine by himself and he is hard press to prove the point

After the MC stands there for a little bit and then finally decides to join him in the pillow fort, Belphie ignores them for a bit. Neither of them move from their spots until Belphie sighs and rolls over to use their chest as a pillow. If all this work really was for nothing, he might as well enjoy his well-earned nap better with a warm body pillow

-------

hmmmmmmmmmmmmm....I gave up on proof reading this part way so I hope it is okie dokie

-Leo

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thatesqcrush · 3 years ago

Text

The Auction, Pt. 1

Bryan Kneef x Reader. CW: talk of sex work, language. WC: 2K - this is for @adarafaelbarba’s bingo, with the sugar daddy/sugar baby card.

The bills came every thirty days like clockwork. At first you were only behind on some - everybody gets a little behind, you reasoned. You picked up extra shifts at your job, which at first helped to make a bit of dent in the ever increasing debt you had.

Then you fell and broke your ankle. Goodbye went to the extra shifts as well as your regular shifts. Your meager savings only got you so far before that was drained out. Now you were further deeper in the red. Once a “valued customer,” you were now getting hate mail from the creditors. You managed to find another job once you were good as new but you were too far down the hole to make any kind of dent. Now you were dodging phone calls from unknown numbers and not even bothering to listen to the voicemails left. Instead you just deleted them. You made your way up to your third floor apartment, bag of Chinese takeout in one hand and a stack of mail in the other. You walked down the creaky wooden hallway, looking through the stack of bills that had come this time around.

“Ok. don't panic. Don't panic. They’re just a few numbers. Just how scary can a few numbers be?” you wondered. But inwardly you knew how bad the numbers were. You let out an irritated sigh when a creaking sound interrupted your thoughts. You peered up and a person emerged from the shadows. You let out a scream, dropping your takeout and mail.

“It’s me! It’s me! Relax!”

You instantly recognized the voice. It was Bonnie, your friend from your old job.

“Bonnie, what in the actual fuck?” You questioned as you dropped to your knees to pick up the scattered mail. You gathered it all and began shoving it in the takeout bag.

“Sorry!” Bonnie apologized, with a small wave. “Here let me help you.” She crouched down and handed you the remaining bills.

“Thanks.” You muttered. You stood back up, letting out a small groan as you did so. “What’s going on? I wasn’t expecting you. I haven’t seen you in… what a month?”

“I wanted to talk to you about an opportunity that I came across that I think you’ll find appealing.” Bonnie replied.

You rolled your eyes as you unlocked your door. “Bon, I am not buying into one of those MLMs, be my own boss babe schemes.” You turned the light on and held the door for Bonnie to walk in.

Bonnie took a look around your apartment and wrinkled her nose. Her eyes caught the stack of bills piled upon your end table. You closed the door behind and dropped your bag on the coffee table before shrugging off your jacket.

“Can I get you something to drink? I have a couple of white claws in the fridge.” You called out as you headed towards the kitchen.

“Just some water, thanks.” Bonnie replied.

When you returned, you handed the glass to Bonnie before sitting on the couch. “Okay so if it’s not a pyramid scheme, then what kind of opportunity is it?”

“Right!” Bonnie smiled brightly. As she began to talk, you eyed Bonnie’s outfit. You couldn’t recall when she seemed so made up and beautifully accessorized. The last time you saw her, she had a she was sporting jeans and a hoodie with ratty sneakers.

“I’m sorry.” You held up your hand, shaking your head. “That ring! I’m pretty sure you can tell where the Titanic hit it.”

Bonnie wiggled her brows. “That’s exactly it. There is this exclusive club in the city - where all the richy rich folks frequent. But it’s kept totally quiet.”

You narrowed your eyes but didn��t reply, instead nodding to encourage her to continue.

“Well - this club caters to the clientele’s specific needs. It’s simple - one night, one hotel. You’re the prize.”

Your eyes widen slightly as her words register. “You mean sex.”

Bonnie nodded. “You show up dress to the nines, have people fight with their wallets to have a night with you and you get a cut of the profit.”

“And this is how you…” You waved your hand towards Bonnie.

Bonnie nodded again. “Yup. One night, walked away with enough to pay off my school loans and then some.”

Your mouth dropped. “Shut up, no you didn’t.”

Bonnie crossed her arms. “You bet your sweet ass. And the people who run it wanted to know if I knew anyone else who might be interested and I told them about you.”

“Wait a minute - told them what exactly?”

“That you were a bit hard up but that you were a babe. I showed them your picture and they want to meet you.” Bonnie replied, grinning.

You laughed nervously. “No way. No thanks.” You grabbed the stack of bills that were piled. “Look, I know I owe a lot but I’m going to do this my way. I’ll get from under.”

“No you won’t.” Bonnie continued, with a roll of her eyes. “You’ll keep paying what - the minimum and have interest pile on? You’ll end up paying more than you owed and who knows when the end will come.”

“Bon, I can’t.” You protested. You knew deep down she was correct and part of you was very much intrigued by whatever this place was. “And knowing my luck, I’ll end up with some greaseball sweating all over me.”

Bonnie took a sip of her glass and held one finger up. “Some are unfortunate looking but the majority of these men are the most eligible bachelors. They’re fine as hell. One night - you get to play a role for 24 hours and then you walk out with enough cash that you have only ever dreamed about. And they’re legit - they run tests on you and the men, making sure everyone is clean and healthy.”

“Bonnie, thanks but no thanks. I appreciate the flattery but you’ve got the wrong girl.”

“Look, here’s their business card. You need a password to get into their site - I wrote it on the back. Go check it out and sleep on it. If in the morning you still feel this way, then we will never talk about it again. But if you’re intrigued, call me and we’ll go down together.”

“You’re not really going back are you?” You asked incredulously.

“Hell yeah I am. It was amazing - the sex, the money. I had so many fighting over me - it was such a rush!” Bonnie exclaimed. She noticed how your brow arched. “Look, just check it out and think about it.” She stood up and began heading towards the door. Glancing around and back to you, she gave you a pitiful smile. “Look at this place - it’s a dump. You deserve way better than this. You are so smart and pretty - and with an ass that won’t quit. You’d make so much bank.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” Your shoulders rolled forward in defeat. “I’ll think about it and I’ll text you.”

“That’s all I ask!” Bonnie squealed, with a clap of her hands. “Listen I have to go but we’ll talk soon, okay?”

You nodded weakly. “Sure… catch you later.”

After Bonnie left, you ate and changed into a tank top and sweatshorts. You tinkered around on your laptop a bit and were about to call it a night, when you saw the business card Bonnie left behind.

Curious, you pulled up the website and sure enough, as Bonnie said, there was a password needed to enter. You flipped over the card and in scrawl recognized as Bonnie’s was the word: concupiscence.

You typed in the password and waited for the website to load. You were certain the website would be some flashy page but instead it was very minimal, with not much information posted. It did mention exclusivity and protection of privacy for members. On the corner of the upper right side was a separate page for those who were members and then another for what you assumed were the ones being auctioned. You clicked on that one and it brought you to another login page. With a groan, you excited out of the page.

You chewed on your bottom lip - you were curious - one night - could one night be so terrible? You longed to be done with your debt - the result of being young, naive with no experience of money management, nevermind the addition of loans for your Master’s degree, that seemed like a wise decision at the time. Done with the harassing creditors and having a meager bank account.

“It’s too good to be true and that means it probably is.” You said out loud - in an attempt to convince yourself.

You closed your laptop and went to the bathroom to relieve yourself and brush your teeth.

Later, your dreams were fraught with being paraded like a prized pig before an enclave of men and women alike went at you in an orgy. You woke up in a panic, and it took you awhile to settle back down.

The morning came and the auction was still on your mind. You chewed your toast as you mulled the pros and cons. With a resigned sigh, you texted Bonnie that you were in and to send you more details.

“Would you stop fidgeting so much?” Bonnie chastised during the elevator ride up. “You look great - they’re going to love you.”

“I look ridiculous.” You replied. You glanced at your reflection. “I have so much makeup on and this dress is a bit much.”

“You have to show off them what you’ve got.” Bonnie replied. You had borrowed a dress from her and it was much more revealing in the front and shorter than you were normally comfortable with. “You’ve got a great rack.”

Your palms were sweaty and you ran them down the front of the dress nervously.

The elevator announced its arrival and you followed Bonnie as she stepped off. She walked in front of you with such an air of confidence.

Your heels clacked on the floor, echoing throughout. There was an unmarked door and Bonnie knocked on it.

The door swung open and you were both greeted by a pair of green eyes in a navy suit. But this wasn’t just any power suit - here was the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on. Golden skin, as if just back from a vacation, with a perfectly maintained beard and perfectly coiffed dark hair. He took a look at you and you felt as if he was piercing your soul.

“Ladies.” Mr. Mysterious gruffed and you and Bonnie jump apart to allow him room. His voice was rich and decadent and set a chill down your core. You caught a whiff of his cologne and you swore in that moment you came. ‘Now of that’s what we’re working with… then hell yes.’ You thought.

An older woman with cropped blonde hair and her own impressive power suit, peered at you before greeting Bonnie.

“Ms. Cooper, welcome back. I see you’ve brought your friend as discussed. Please come in, shut the door behind you.”

“Of course.” Bonnie replied. She turned to you. “Come on.”

You looked at Bonnie and nodded. As you closed the door behind you, you turned to look down the hall where Mr. Mysterious was. Your eyes widened as he turned over his shoulder to look back at you. His lips curled up in a smile and the look was absolutely smoldering.

You swallowed hard and shut the door with a gentle click before turning your attention back to the meeting at hand.

You gave the blonde woman a smile and straightened yourself up. You knew you had this. And it was about time you had some fun.

TBC.

Tags: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @beccabarba @dreila03 @dreamlover31 @prurientpuddlejumper @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @greeneyedblondie44 @mommakat32 @teamsladsandgents @detective-giggles @garturbo @zoeykaytesmom @ottosuricato @storiesofsvu @bananas-pajamas @pieceofshittytitty @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @whatisthislife28 @jazzyjoi @rampantmuses @rachelxwayne @qvid-pro-qvo @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @tintinxtintin @law-nerd105 @wanniiieeee

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#bryan kneef x female reader #Bryan Kneef x reader #Bryan Kneef fanfic #Brian Kneef fanfic #bryan kneef imagine #the good fight fanfic #adarafaelbarbaseptemberbingo

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