#but it is scary for me to find that i can't derive joy from the things that used to fulfill me (art/friendships/etc)

[suddencolds]

~ /delete later/ ~

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Nine.

Huge thanks to those of you still reading this! It's so strange when I come to post, as in the writing we are well into part three of the story and currently six years ahead of this time, and so much is different to how it was back here! I can't wait to share that with you all :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,136

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

Waking up in her bed, for a second his brain tricked him into thinking she’d still be there, Adrien reaching to find nothing but an empty space. He sighed a little, looking at the time on his phone. Eight ten in the morning. It’d be one twenty-five in the afternoon in England, where she’d flown to three days before to begin filming, his own five-week stint in France to film Midnight in Paris beginning the following week.  

His flight was two days from then, but he had a few commitments in the city planned prior to leaving, so had stayed at hers since his place was such a haul to get to and from. Five hours drive, or an hour and a half flight and then fifty minutes by car from Syracuse airport. It made sense to stay put.  

One particular commitment he was looking forward to took place later that day, meeting someone he hadn’t seen since before Christmas, someone who when she glanced up from the table as he approached, looked a thousand times healthier than she had before.  

“Homeslice!” Jen spoke warmly, standing to give him a huge hug after he’d placed his tea down. 

“Hey you. God, you look amazing! It’s so good to see you,” he replied, kissing her cheek. And hell, she truly did. She had colour in her face, her eyes were bright, and her smile lit up the entire room. It was about a million miles away from the pale, heroin sick mess he remembered seeing in the hospital back in Pittsburgh. Also, she’d gained a few pounds in weight, and it suited her. She was still slight in frame, but definitely less scary thin than she had been. 

She was dressed so differently too compared to on tour Jen, wearing a pair of grey skinny jeans and an ecru coloured sweater that sloped off one shoulder, the only thing remotely rock and roll about her look being the reveal of her half sleeve of tattoos, as well as a smudge of smoky eyeliner. 

“Thanks, man. Got that fresh outta rehab glow!” Indeed, fresh out she was, leaving the facility the week before, staying a little longer than she’d originally intended in order to feel completely certain that she was strong enough in her tentative recovery to do so.  

She’d been in regular contact with Jade, also talking to him a lot over the phone as well, the pair striking up a friendship, much to his girlfriend’s joy. It was important her favourite people got along well. Truly, what had happened had bonded them on a very special level, Jen knowing she could never, ever repay such.  

Sitting down, her face crumpled a little, waving her hand dismissively as she began to sniff. “Ignore me. I’m okay, I’m alright. I’m just so grateful to you. You saved my life, man. That’s like, the biggest deal there is.” 

“Hey, come on,” he spoke, grasping her hand, his face softening. “I did what anybody would have done, finding you like that.” Gracious as always. Jen squeezed his hand tightly before letting go, picking up her coffee as he continued. “So, how are you finding being out in the world again?” 

“Difficult,” she confessed, widening her eyes a fraction. “I’ve learned so many coping tools now though, how to get through situations that would previously have made me use. Still, doesn’t stop me from missing it.”  

“I meant to ask you over the phone, but I take it that it’s nixed you being able to take opioids for your back now, right?” 

She nodded. “Yeah, I can’t even risk using anything derivative. It’s a slippery slope, man.” 

He could well imagine. “Do you mind if I ask you why you turned to heroin? Tell me to butt out if you want. I tried to ask Jade if she had any ideas, but yeah. She shut it down immediately.” 

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “She handled it about as well as I expected her to. Is she still blaming herself for not noticing?” 

“Oh yeah,” he revealed, eyebrows fluttering upwards as he scratched his chin. Trying to tell her otherwise had fallen on deaf ears, as they both knew it would. For him at least, it was becoming a concern. Her coping mechanisms for distress were not healthy, and it worried him, how much she internalised what caused her pain. 

“She needs not to. I was a sneaky son of a bitch with it, man. As for why, yeah, you can ask. You’re the one who found me OD’ing, I fucking owe you that much, Adrien.” Sipping her coffee, she took a breath, ready to tell all to who truly was the first person outside of her immediate family and therapy circle. He made it easy, though. Jade was right; he was a fantastic listener, as she’d discovered through tentatively getting to know him on tour and over the phone while in rehab.  

“Taking the pain pills, it wasn’t all about my gnarled up back, dude. It’s like, I have all of this crazy energy constantly whirling, I always have. It’s why my dad - may he rest - was the first person who put a set of drumsticks in my hand when I was six. I was always tapping, tapping, tapping, y’know? Except dad happened to notice it with a natural rhythm.” 

Adrien nodded, listening without interruption as she took it back much further than he was expecting.  

“He thought it’d occupy me, learning to drum, burn out a little of my zany energy, and it did to a degree. But nothing ever stopped the noise in my head, which I’ve since learned has been me suffering from high functioning anxiety for pretty much most of my life, man. The therapist I saw in rehab really helped me identify it all, dug to the root cause. Smack eventually became my outlet for shutting my brain off so I could fucking sleep.  

“I didn’t make it easy on myself, snorting blow as much as I was to shake the sluggish feeling I had. At first, I was just shooting up a few times a month, when being drunk or naturally exhausted didn’t work. It was the classic thinking of not seeing I had a problem, because it was only once in a while, y’know? Addicts, they ain’t always like those dudes from that movie Trainspotting. It can look different. This chick I met at the centre, she was a fucking CEO of a massive company, shooting up at the weekends to just feel all floaty and nice for the afternoon before returning to her life.  

“She was like me, though. Not a longstanding user, but got more regular, and then she fucked up and took too much. I won’t be fucking up again, because I fucking love my life and having been so close to leaving it, it frightened the shit outta me, man. Again, I am so fucking sorry for putting you through that. I know I’ve told you a million times, but I gotta make my peace with it, that it was a guy who I barely knew as you were back then, my best friend’s boyfriend, no less, who found me.”  

God, she was such a force. Her revelations made him see her in a completely different light to how he once had. She still had that energy about her, but it was tempered now, probably down to her finally receiving the correct treatment for her anxiety, he guessed. “I think you’re really something, just seeing you had a problem and dealing with it so head on. No hiding, no denial, just like, ‘yep, this is what’s wrong, and this is what I gotta do to fix it.’ That’s a really admirable trait.”   

A shy smile danced across her mouth, Jen running her hand through her long, wavy hair. “If my shit needs fixing, then I’m not gonna run and hide from it. Can’t do that and not expect the inevitable implode.”  

He looked a little uncomfortable for a second, in indecision whether to voice what was on his mind. Luckily for him, Jen read him like a book. “She does it, we both know that she does, and yeah. You ain’t the only one who wishes she didn’t.” Taking a deep breath, she puffed her cheeks out, smiling thinly. “To be fair to her, it’s a behaviour she’s fallen into without much checking from those closest to her. We all did, man. Us girls, I think from a very young age, we didn’t hold one another accountable for our shit, y’know?” 

“No, I don’t,” he smiled, a little baffled. “Explain?” 

“So, you know how young we all were when we first started out. We were seventeen when we cut our first album, except for Jess at sixteen. We were kids, still. Children! And we got thrown into the machine, these five babies who were catapulted to huge fame so damned early. Too early, man.  

“With every person who praised us though, there were another five wanting to cut us down, from critics even to contemporaries in some cases. It bonded us so tightly, protecting one another from it. I think we took care of each other so damned much, that we never saw our flaws, or we let each other get away with it more than we should have. I'm not saying it’s anybody else’s fault other than our own, like me and my addiction, Katie being very aggressive when she sets her mind to it, or Jade being a control freak who internalises her pain, but yeah. It’s what we did.”  

He remembered back to how he’d felt at seventeen, and then tried to apply how he would have coped if his fame had begun right there and then, going from a nobody to someone effectively shot out of a canon into such huge prominence. It made him shudder. No wonder they’d bonded so closely. “That actually makes a lot of sense, that you’d protect each other to that kind of degree. I worry about her still continuing to do it though, at almost thirty-two. I know I haven’t been on the scene long, but your friend? She means the world to me.” 

A happy grin illuminated her mouth, reaching to cup his face momentarily with both hands. “You’re such a good fucking guy, Adrien. I’m glad she’s found you, because some of her exes...” she trailed off, letting out a long breath through gritted teeth. “Ivan was definitely the worst, because of what happened, but yeah. There were some straight up douchebags for a time. Of course, she blamed herself for all of it going wrong, because that’s her.” Pausing she fiddled with the handle of her coffee mug. “There’re things I could tell you, but you should probably hear it from her, y’know? Except...”  

“Except she isn’t likely to tell me until she stops panicking that she’s gonna mess up what she has with me, too?” he offered, watching her nod deeply.  

She pointed a well-manicured finger at him. “Bingo, dude. I mean, she does seem like she’s settling to the idea. Probably because she can see that you’re not a douchebag like the rest were. You don’t have any red flags she’s actively ignoring. In fact, the only thing she’s mentioned so far that’s negative is that you sometimes give her tummy ache with that big ole’ cervix banger you have between your legs!” 

It was an unfortunate moment for him to finish his tea, snorting with laughter into the cup and almost choking. “Oh, god,” he groaned, wiping a hand down his face as he felt his cheeks warm a little. “You girls, shit. You all probably know much more about my junk than I’m comfortable with.”  

She barked a laugh, thinking how adorable he was, how easily embarrassed he got. “Yeah, but it’s all good, man. All good!” Pausing, her smile crinkled her eyes, cocking her head. “She thinks you hang the moon and stars, my gal. She’s really in it with you.”  

He nodded. “I do know, yeah. It's nice to hear it confirmed from one of the people closest to her, though. I haven’t ever met anybody like her. She’s so ridiculously lovely, so down to earth as well. One thing I really like about her is just how normal she is. There’s nothing pretentious about the woman. Just before Christmas, she mentioned that she was going out for lunch with her friend Tony while I was heading to an interview. I opened her apartment door and there’s Anthony fucking Bourdain standing there! Or the time I came downstairs shortly before she went away and she’d just chilling on the couch, drinking tea with Iggy Pop like it’s the most normal thing in the world.” 

She shrugged lightly, playing with the little empty packet of sugar next to her coffee mug. “It is for her. She doesn’t see people’s fame; she just sees them.”  

Of course, she did. It was what had drawn him to her so much when they first met. “That’s if she even knows who they are. I’m still not over the whole Dalai Lama thing. God, I nearly ruptured something when she told me about it!” 

Throwing her head back, her laughed filled the space. “Ahh, shit, yeah, yeah. That was the best one I think she’s ever done! There I was, man, on the side of a dirt road in Kathmandu, crying with laughter at her.” 

Their coffee date wrapped up shortly after, the pair moving to their next destination. They were heading to watch The Conversation, the film that Jade had taken a pause in touring from to film, and which had premiered in the US two days before, the lady herself attending the London premiere the previous evening. It was her first major role, playing Lydia Todd, a prolific serial killer confined to a psychiatric unit, starring across from Edward Norton, the FBI profiler tasked with conducting a series of interviews with her.  

Adrien had been looking forward to it just as much as Jen, both taking a seat at the back, chatting quietly while they waited for the lights to dim. For the following ninety-seven minutes, they were glued to the screen, the performance of the woman they both adored absolutely flooring them. The way she played creepy, calculated, yet a little vulnerable wrapped up in a bow of somebody who was horrifically psychologically damaged was flawless.  

“What we’re watching,” he leaned to whisper in Jen’s ear, “is the movie that’ll put our girl on the map.”  

He wasn’t wrong. The critical acclaim Jade received in the weeks that followed had the industry buzzing, her name and status in the acting world elevated hugely. There she was, riding a huge wave of success, and he couldn’t be there to celebrate that with her by her side until March. He counted the weeks, then the days of Skype calls, phone conversations and hundreds of text messages keeping them both going, until before they knew it, she was jumping into his arms again. 

“Oh, my life, I missed you even more this time around than the last!” she exclaimed, her bum being squeezed in his big hands as he carried her through her apartment, sharing kisses, thrilled to be wrapped around him again. “And I want to show you just how much, but I need a shower. I smell of armpits and plane.” 

“Alright, I guess I’ll reluctantly put you down.”  

It wasn’t for long, though. After washing and working shampoo from her hair, she was rinsing the conditioner out when she heard the bathroom door open. “Couldn’t wait, hmm?” 

The shower door opened, his body pressing to hers, arms encircling her as his mouth buried against her neck. “Not even for another second.”  

That hunger was matched, her arm winding back, hand sinking into the soft of his dark hair, hair she couldn’t believe had grown so much in two months. A sigh poured from her sensuous lips like wine as his hands gently squeezed her tits, nipples pinched to pebbles, his cock hardening against the small of her back.  

Her skin skittered with the hum of reconnection as his hands lowered in an alluring glide over her wet skin, anticipation starting to melt down her spine. He didn’t leave her waiting on it for long, one hand descending to push into the heat of her folds, the other gently clutching beneath her jaw as he turned her head, leaning to plant a kiss of fire and honey upon her lips.  

Tingly heat prickled as his fingers glided through her folds, the sweet dew of her pussy slicking against his touch, a shuddered breath fluttering from his mouth to hers as she quickly began to gush against his fingers. Their want spiralled like a tornado, kisses becoming more urgent, her body wracked with shivers as he rubbed tight circles over her clit, her walls stinging with the need to feel him inside her. 

Turning, she wound her arms around his neck, Adrien lifting her, shunting her body against the tiles and without ceremony or warning, dropping her straight down onto his cock. He kissed the gasp the fell from her mouth, teeth nipping her lower lip, grunting low as her legs tightened around him. His fingers dug a hard clench beneath her thighs, driving up into her with force as the water cascaded down his back, lips sliding from hers to once again tease hot kisses against the column of her throat.  

Panting against his mouth, she stared him in the eyes, nails dragging through his hair, fingers clenching to tug gently. “God, you turn me on so much. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”  

Truly, he’d never felt as heavily coveted by a woman as he did the one who had completely captured his heart. She near constantly made him feel good about himself, not that he particularly suffered with confidence issues. It was always nice to hear how much he stirred her desire, though.  

Rutting into her core hard, he groaned deep as his mouth found hers again, lost in the eye of her storm even though truly, he was the one driving it, all the love, longing and need for her mingling and sending him mindless. The blaze of him caught at her edges, sent sparks skittering within her blood, his hips driving like a piston against her.  

It was too wild to last beyond pure, basic urgency, a heated fuck of primal need within the water and steam, sending them both soaring rapidly to their bliss. It ripped through her like a current, her nails clawing down his back, that feral edge toppling him as he spilled deep into her, teeth clamping upon the side of her neck. It glimmered through them gently in the wake of such intensity, tiny pin pricks suffusing, both panting hard as he set her back down to her feet, entwining as they kissed.  

Once out, dry and dressed, they headed out for dinner, both catching up with one another properly. 

“Seriously, do you have any idea how proud of you I am?” he began after they’d eaten, Jade moved to his side of the booth they’d been seated in, his arm draped around her shoulders. “Watching you as Lydia wasn’t like I was seeing you there. Jade was gone, it was all her, this complete other person.”  

To receive such praise from her extremely accomplished boyfriend, a man whose talent was so renowned, it honestly bowled her over completely. “I was so nervous about it. I worried constantly that I’d overplayed her in some moments and fallen victim to underplaying in others. She was so complex, and I wanted to do the nuance of the character justice, so hearing you say that really does set me at ease.” 

Kissing her head, he smiled widely. There was no bullshit with her, not false modesty. She honestly had fretted – and still was – over the performance that had earned her such critical acclaim. “You were amazing. I said to Jen that it was the movie that’d put you on the map, and I was right.”  

Turning to him, she rested her forehead to his, nuzzling him softly. “I love you so much.” 

“And I love you about a thousand times more, Moo.” 

Crinkling her nose, she shook her head. “Not possible.” 

“Yes, possible.” He kissed her softly, pointing at her. “Don’t argue with me.”  

Laughing, she reached for her drink, leaning into him as she finished it, the simple happiness of that moment something she knew would be remembered for a long time. They headed back to her apartment after that, walking the twenty minutes hand in hand, enjoying the weather beginning to finally warm as winter made way for the imminent arrival of spring.  

Once in her building, she checked her mailbox, Adrien telling her he’d forgotten to collect it for the last couple of days. As expected, it was full. 

“Look at this!” she exclaimed, yanking the bundle out. “She’s nine months pregnant with post!” Her words made him laugh, finding himself playfully whacked upon the shoulder with the clutch of letters as they walked into the elevator.  

Placing the letters down on the counter in the kitchen, she pulled a bottle of wine from the rack, Adrien disturbed from kissing the side of her neck by his phone ringing.  

“It’s my dad, I’ll be in the lounge.” 

She smiled, pouring a glass and placing it into his hand. “Okay, sexy mans. Tell him I said hi.” 

He winked before turning, Jade pouring herself a glass before sorting through the pile. Invites to gala’s, functions, other celeb-type events all in the form of fancy cards sent in decadent looking envelopes, and amongst them, a handwritten one. The postmark stated Omaha, Jade frowning as she slid her thumb under the sealed join, trying to figure out who she knew in the Nebraskan city, the realisation suddenly hitting her when she took in the handwriting.  

It was the neat scribe that had written three years' worth of lovely birthday and Christmas cards to her, from a woman whom she had been very fond of, once upon a time. What reason did Polina Kuznetsova have to contact her now, though? 

“Dear Jade, 

I am contacting you on behalf of my son, for of course he cannot. I truly do hope this letter finds you well. Ivan is doing great in prison; his father and I are very proud of his progress after being so very ashamed in the aftermath of the way he treated you. Please, do not think my words in this letter will ever condone what he did, for I do not, but you must understand a few things. The steroid use, it changed who he was. It did. You know that as well as I do. He was night and day in difference, the man he was when using and when he was not. He feels much remorse for how he treated you, and he wants for you to reach out and contact him. His details are included below.  

You two made a wonderful couple, and he wishes to build something again with you in view to eventually reconnect and repair the damage he did upon his release. I think that you should consider this, I honestly do. He still loves you, and to be brutally honest, you both had blame in the relationship. You put your career before him time and again, and I cannot blame him for being hurt over that...” 

She didn’t need to read the rest, the words from a woman who might have said she didn’t condone her son’s actions, but didn’t give a damn enough to even for one second consider what her letter would do to a woman who truly - not that she’d admit it - wasn’t over what had happened to her. Her words about the blame, too. It hit her like a knife to her chest... 

“You never make time for me, Jade! Always this tour, or that movie! You on the move constantly, that’s why it happened! It was your fault that we...” 

The panic of it, his voice in her head, everything she’d so tightly pushed down began to rise. It was too much. Her limbs felt light and tingly, the breath stolen from her lungs, turning to grab her bag. It was without stalling or thought that she ran from her home, back out into the New York night, needing to be alone as her emotions crashed within like a bomb.  

It was beyond her completely that who she should have run to was the one she’d left behind in her apartment.  

[dkniade]

He’s from Snezhnaya??

Marcel: So that's why you suspected me... *sigh* Even after hearing your reasoning, I still can't help but find it a little preposterous.

Marcel: I'm used to it, though. You've always been an impulsive and sentimental child, Navia. It's one of your most endearing traits.

Silver: No need to appeal to pathos.

Navia is drawing conclusions from the evidence she gathered while Marcel is, as Silver states, appealing to pathos. Hm

-

Marcel: Alas, who won't feel at least a little hurt by an accusation of murder from a girl you see as your own daughter?

Marcel: But if I were to dismiss this completely, you'd also think I'm not being considerate of your feelings. Ah well, let Uncle Marcel teach you another lesson.

Marcel: Do you know what the biggest flaw in your reasoning is?

Navia: I suppose you're going to tell me anyways...

Marcel: It's "timing," again.

-

Marcel: I think you've done a superb job of dissecting your father's feelings as he neared the end of his life.

Marcel: But aren't you going against all of his wishes and expectations right now?

Marcel: He wished for you to become more rational, collected, and conscientious, instead of dwelling only on your own feelings.

Marcel: Once you've learned to be more considerate of others' feelings, and to stop rushing headlong into things, you'd have met most of his expectations.

Ironic, since he’s kind of describing himself here, and what he did to the women. As Navia points out later on, after the traveler brings in the edvidence:

Navia: You fixated your gaze on the lover that passed away, instead of paying attention to the living people around you.

Navia: So you never noticed how we changed, or how we grew as individuals.

Melus: You also never understood Boss' real expectations for his daughter.

Silver: Or our determination to see things through.

-

Warning: drug use, human trafficking/experimentation

Sinthe is known as 乐斯 (Lèsī) in Chinese. Phonetically they don’t sound similar, but as the Sinthe page on the wiki says, “The Chinese term for Sinthe, 乐斯 Lèsī, is possibly derived from the semantic meaning of the character 乐 lè, ‘joy, pleasure,’ referring to the euphoriant effects of the drink, and the Chinese transliteration of absinthe, 艾碧斯 Àibìsī.”

And before the trial (though this scene is spliced together with the accusation scene itself, which is great in terms of how the information is conveyed), Traveler and Paimon investigate the lair, and from a gaming perspective, this is environmental storytelling…

-

i. The Labeled Belongings

Paimon: What's all this... Ah, it's a bunch of really cute things!

Paimon: Pink accessories, a hair tie, a necklace, even a makeup box...

Traveler: There's a name, too.

Paimon: Oh, Paimon sees it too. But... why are all these cute things labeled with different girls' names?

Traveler: They probably belonged to the victims.

Paimon: Huh!? You mean, the girls from the serial disappearances... they were brought here!?

Paimon: And then, they were turned into water...

Paimon: And all these boxes of things... these names... that means... This is terrible...

-

ii. Vacher’s Notes

Paimon: What's this over here? Looks like some kind of place for research.

Paimon: "Experiment number sixteen aims to verify Jakob Ingold's research conclusions on the Primordial Sea, and use his theory as a foundation to achieve a breakthrough."

(—WHAT DID JAKOB DO. WHY IS IT HIM AGAIN. what is this Narzissenkreuz Ordo. Although if his research is used as the basis of Vacher’s experiments, did Jakob also do some pretty terrible things in his own research?)

Paimon: "The experiment was a failure. No individual managed to resurface from the Water from the Primordial Sea. Female specimens twenty-two, twenty-three, and twenty-four were dissolved..."

Paimon: Waaaaaah!!!

Traveler: Calm down, Paimon.

Paimon: Sorry, (Traveler), Paimon will try her best! It's just that P—Paimon's never read something so scary before...

Paimon: How can someone write something that terrible in such a matter-of-fact tone!?

Paimon: You read the rest... Paimon's too scared to keep going...

Traveler: The goal of the researcher...

Traveler: Is to save his lover, a woman called Vigneire, who was dissolved.

Paimon: So that's why he did all of these experiments...

Paimon: But did he really think he'd be able to find a way just by dissolving people over and over? That's just insane!

Narratively, Paimon appeals to pathos and highlights the tragedy of the situation while the Traveler and to a more extreme extent, Vacher, reveals more information to piece together what’s behind the mystery itself, huh. So we get both the emotional reaction and the truth of what’s going on, with two characters. That… yes, that works very well together. This also happened with Navia and Marcel earlier in the trial scene, so Neuvillette’s comment in his demo was…

“The court is always filled with a cacophony of voices. Passion, schadenfreude, indignation, terror… Emptiojs burst forth from the depths of the heart, and surround their host like a dense fog.”

-

iii. Vigneire’s Diary and Marcel’s Name

Paimon: "Vigneire"... Isn't that Vacher's lover's name?

Paimon: Then, you found her diary? Let's see...

Paimon: Aw, it's just a normal diary chronicling their love story. She was so sweet too, Paimon feels even worse for her now...

Traveler: Take a look at this page.

Traveler: She made a list of baby names.

[image of a list of baby names]

Paimon: So many... A whole page's worth! But they're all crossed out. Was she unhappy with all of them?

Paimon: The final name she decided on was...

Paimon: "Marcel"!?

Paimon: Wait, but Marcel's pretty old... Has this case been going on for so long that he's Vacher and Vigneire's grown son?

Traveler: I've figured it out.

Traveler: Let's go, Paimon.

Interesting! So that’s where he got the name. And then, I’ve already watched the rest of this scene as the original post suggests

—

Childe: Ah c'mon, is this really necessary? Haven't you already caught the real criminal? Isn't it time for side characters like me to exit stage left?

Theatre metaphor…

Ah, so, this line from the 4.0 trailer:

You only have yourselves to blame! You set up this ornate opera house in pursuit of your so-called justice, your beloved drama, while turning a blind eye to the suffering of the people!

Is spoken by Vacher during his trial in Act II. That makes more sense in context. (He’s not Fontainian? Huh)

[lackadaisycats]

I love everything of your work, every page is a piece of art, textures, lights, perspective, characters and the script, with perfect balance of hilarious and engaging lore.... It keeps me inspired everyday and gives me the energies to continue my projects. I can't describe the extreme joy your works gives me and I couldn't be more grateful, because it keeps me dreaming and helped me to understand what I want to do in the near future. Thank you so so much \(^ヮ^)/.

I have one question : Do you have any advices for making comics and put them in the world? For some time I had the urge to share my works, but idk what to do :/.

That's exceedingly kind. I'm touched to hear you've enjoyed my work, and if it helped you to understand what creative things you want to do, well, that makes my heart glad. Thanks for sharing that.

Very wordy response to the making and sharing comics question below....

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

Making comics is a Whole Big Thing as topics go. It's a little difficult to provide salient advice on something so broad. So much of it depends on what you're specifically trying to achieve, and what your preferences are as an individual. Here are a few bulletpoints, though:

-- Make the comic about things you love unabashedly so that it's fun and engaging to work on. It will still be difficult - it's always difficult - but you're more likely to keep doing the work it if you're in love with it.

-- Don't put off starting until you're 'good enough'. Good Enough is a fantasy place, and Perfect is a big lie. You'll never find either and pursuing them easily turns into eternal procrastination. Get started while the fire is burning, because getting good at something happens while you're actually doing the thing, and less so while you're thinking about maybe doing it. Try to be at peace with the idea that your work will be flawed. All art is. That's what makes it interesting.

-- Try to work with your strengths, not against them. Comic making is already immensely challenging. I'd suggest not making it extra impossible by demanding an entire personality change of yourself in order to do it. For example, if you tend to have intense but short-lived interest in things, don't torture yourself by embarking on a project that is going to take years-long, single-minded devotion. Do an anthology of shorter stories instead of a sprawling epic. Do one-off joke comics, or thoughtful vignettes. Or even break up something longer into short bursts of contained chapters.

-- Don't hurt yourself. Eat right, sleep, get a comfortable chair that's good for your back, get out of that chair and move around at intervals. If something starts aching, stop and rest. If it's aching chronically, see a medical professional. Career ending injuries and health troubles for artists are insidious - they creep up all quiet and mundane while you're busy patting yourself on the back for pulling another all-nighter.

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About sharing online - also a tricky topic! The internet has changed a lot since I began Lackadaisy. The advice I could give derived from my personal experiences in publishing and audience building is a relic of a bygone era at this point…but here are some more bulletpoints (er, paragraphs) that I think are generally pertinent:

-- If publishing publicly sounds daunting and a bit scary, dip your toes in the water before plunging in. Do a publishing test run. If there's a Discord community you're comfortable with or a social media platform you use where you can post for mutuals only, maybe try that first. Or just share directly with a handful of people and ask them for feedback. When I'm unsure about something I'm preparing to post, I usually run it by some creator friends of mine because I trust them to be honest with me. Even if they have some criticisms, it's often reassuring that I can proceed to show it to others without dying inside.

-- Places with a big, built in audience can be great for getting eyeballs on your work, but it’s a mixed bag. Webtoon is the obvious example right now. Just be wary of anyone showing a little too much interest, or coming at you with paperwork to sign. Don't rush into putting your name on something that 1) commits you to unreasonable amounts of output for barely livable wages 2) relinquishes your ownership of your IP, or grants anyone any license to your work without clearly defined boundaries (like a limited term and agreement-ending conditions) -- Contract agreements warrant lots of consideration. Involve a lawyer of your own if you can. At the very least, have friends or family read over anything you might sign. And if it sounds too good to be true, it is. Scams are unfortunately abundant, so do your research/due diligence on whoever you're in discussions with.

-- Make yourself easy to find. Use social media to your advantage. Don't feel like you have to be in every single place, though. Some platforms might not be a good fit for your work, and some might be too much of a hassle or a mental drain to do battle with. -- Scrape out your own space online if you're able - a personal web page, a little WordPress/ComicPress site, or even just a link hub so that people can relocate your work if they lose track. The point is to avoid putting your eggs all in single basket that you have no control over. You never know when the social network growth you've been nurturing for the past several years will just succumb to a billionaire rampaging around like a sociopathic kaiju in the midst of the world's most public midlife crisis.

-- Don't worry about being an immediate sensation. Seeing people respond to your work is a wonderful and immensely gratifying feeling at times, but be patient if all hear are crickets chirping for a while. Longform storytelling in particular takes time to catch its momentum, and readers take time to get invested. Meteoric rises and virality do happen now and then, but honestly, slow and steady audience buildup is probably the more sustainable and less psychologically bewildering way to experience the fun of sharing your stuff with the world.

-- Consistently put your identifier (name/watermark, URL, copyright info, or all of these things) on everything you post online.

---------------------- I hope something here is useful, and if you decide to start making and publishing comics, I hope you find much success and happiness in it!