#i hope i'll be able to draw better things from tomorrow on

[mayhems-cannon]

this was supposed to be a request but i find it too shit sorry

[highhhfiveee]

mint

pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: you’re abby’s mint chocolate-loving babysitter. mike takes notice. wc: 1.3k tags: suggestiveness, swearing, fluff. *minor movie spoiler that isn’t a spoiler fr but kind of is* a/n: oi. this is my first official piece of fanfic on tumblr and i'm excited but also super nervous. i never knew what characters i wanted to write for as most of my fandoms are obsolete tbh (teen wolf and maze runner, i'm looking at you 💔) but after watching the fnaf movie and falling in love with j hutch like i'm 14 again, i wanted to try to write for mike!  i'm sorry if this story sucks tbh. i wrote it pretty quickly, did not edit it in any way (watch for grammar and spelling errors!) and i'm still trying to establish characters and plot and do all this silly billy worldbuilding, but i'll get better! i'm also taking requests for both fluff and smut, so if y'all would like to send anything for me to write, i'll def accept! like i said in my last post, i think i'm gonna redo my tumblr layout so i can feel like a true fanfic/misc blog lmao so ignore its under construction phase ((: i hope y'all enjoy this though bc i've been thinking ab mike schmidt all night 

i have sooo many ideas, but between last night and this morning, i’ve been thinking of abby’s babysitter!reader (bc fuck max). 

you’ve been channel surfing in the living room since you put abby down, working with her to lock down a nightly routine. ideally, she’d bathe, eat dinner (god willingly), brush her teeth, and then you’d be able to get her to lay in bed and doze off. some nights, this required dessert. 

“you just brushed your teeth though. it’s gonna taste gross.”

“not if it’s one of those mint chocolate things you always have.” you straighten up, eyes squinted at the child before you; she meant the small, sometimes melted, squares of Andes mint chocolate you always kept. they’d always been your favorite, a guilty pleasure in this fucked up world. 

you hadn’t been babysitting abby for long, and you didn’t realize that she'd been watching you crush the chocolates like it was light work. they were easy to eat, and once you had one, you found out how easy it was to eat another one, and then another one, and then another one until there was a mountain of crinkled foil next to your phone and chocolate smeared on your face. 

"please, y/n. just one," you didn't exactly know if it was a lie. abby was convincing, able to break you down with her eyes, pleading and puppy-dog like. "please." 

you cave, leaning down to brush her hair back from her forehead and place a gentle kiss on the skin. with pursed lips, you whisper, "fine, but tomorrow night. i have to get some more." 

abby does nothing but smile, eyes fluttering closed. you stay with her for a bit like you always do--watching the way her chest rises and falls, and how her features twitched with slumber. features scarily similar to mike's. 

of course she'd look like mike. they were siblings, no shit, but the resemblance occupied your brain. there was sweet abby, with her colorful clothes and scribbled drawings and persuasive aura, and then there was mike. 

you shake your head, giving abby another kiss before exiting her room. you didn't need to think about mike. he wasn't what you were here for. you'd come to abby's school as an aide and after she'd privately confided in you about her home life, you knew you had to help her. you would do anything for her, even if that meant taking care of her while suppressing the overwhelming school girl crush you had on her older brother.

mike was a bit older than you, which didn't scare you at all. guys in their early 20s were rarely mature, doing anything they could just to fuck; but guys in their late 20s, mike specifically, had only ever shown you couth, surprisingly. 

for nearly two months, five mornings a week, the sound of the door being unlocked would ring out. you'd turn to see sunshine pouring into the living room, enveloping mike's brooding figure in a radiant golden glow.

he'd hang his coat on the wall hooks, drop his bag down to his feet, and give you a small but warm smile. you'd try to not to embarrass yourself as you two made small talk, packing up your things.

you always left unscathed, but recently it'd been hard. you were always thinking about him, dreaming about him even; how his hair would feel between your fingers, how his hands would feel on your face, how his face would feel between your thighs. 

the thought is washed away, drowned out by the sound effects of a loud infomercial when the door opens, and you're turning and squinting against the wash of pale yellow on your face. mike steps forward with a, "hey, y/n" and you meekly raise your hand to wave. 

he hangs his hoodie up to reveal his shoulder blades flexing under an uncharacteristically tight navy blue sweater. you can't help but stare.

"just wake up?" his voice is raspy, but he's still facing the wall, rummaging in his bag for something. 

"um...yeah. brain's still turning on," you lie, tossing the thick blue blanket off your body. you didn't sleep at all, kept up with your thoughts and the last of your Andes mints (though you loved her, you couldn't give abby your last ones).

"hm," he mutters, finally turning to you but keeping his hands behind his back. something crinkles in them and you raise your eyebrow at the tired yet amused expression he takes with you. it's enough to make your body hot and you awkwardly pull at the collar of your shirt, fanning yourself off.

"hot?" the gravelly tone sends you into a giggling fit, shaking your head as you shoot to your feet. you have to leave before you do or say something you regret. 

"uh, yeah, it was s-super hot under that...um...blanket. i shouldn't have worn sweatpants to s-sleep," you stutter, nodding your head along with mike as he steps closer to you. this couldn't be the moment something happens, right? it'd been so casual between you too, very friendly, and he'd never shown any signs of trying to do anything with you before. why would he choose right now, so spontaneously? 

he stands before you, the slightest bit taller than you. you're able to see every pore, every freckle, every microscopic detail in his eyes and lips.

you open your mouth, hoping your heart doesn't fall out, to ask what's happening, when he reveals a bag of Andes mints, one bigger than you've ever seen.

your mouth stays open in surprise. "wh-"

"abby's been talking about them. i wondered where she found out about them but--" he nudges his head towards the coffee table, where a small mound of green wrappers lay. you swear under your breath, cursing yourself for not throwing them away like you usually do. 

"i'm sorry," you whisper, blushing beyond measure as you begin to frantically pack your things. "i should be more careful with that stuff."

"god, y/n, you're saying it like it's coke," mike chuckles. he sets the bag down on the couch and reaches out to you, placing his hand on yours as you shove things into your tote. "hey." 

his voice forces you to stop and look up. you melt under his stare just like you do with abby. the puppy-dog thing must run in the family.

"i feel bad about not being able to pay you yet, and i really appreciate all you're doing. abby told me that you loved those mints, so..."

"thank you, mike," you say over the sound of your pounding heart. you didn't care about the money, you didn't need it. being appreciated by someone who made your heartbeat resonate throughout your body was payment enough. "this is really sweet." 

"thank you, y/n. you don't know how much this means to me." You scoff, throwing your tote over your shoulder and looking down at your feet. 

"i'm always happy to help." you and mike stand facing each other for what feels like hours, the air as thick as molasses between you. his eyes were squinted, low and dark and intriguing.

you wished you could read his mind. what was he thinking? did his heart do the same thing as yours, wacking against his ribcage with no end in sight? did he stay up thinking about you when he was supposed to be sleeping, imagining how you felt, what you sounded like, how you tasted---

"see you later tonight?" his voice rocks you out of your trance. he's not thinking about you. he's tired, wondering when you'll leave so he can fall into his bed and doze off. 

"yeah. tell abby i said i'll see her tonight." your smile is tight as you exit the house, cursing at yourself as you get into your car. 

you didn't know how long you could go on like this. 

ya, i know this sucks and it isn't really anything but we're gonna work our way through these fics and blurbs to really develop a cute relationship (,: i will still be writing other fics for mike, and possibly using another babysitter!reader in a different universe, but as for now, we're gonna be rocking with these two (: (thinking that we’ll label her as 🌱🍫!reader)  all notes are appreciated (: thanks for reading!

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Yearning | RotB Mirage x f!robot reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 1000+

Warnings: Smut ( spike in valve and rough interfacing ), dirty talking and daddy kink. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Well this ended up short and sweet, but I'm glad it did. It's about time I give shorter stories and not burn myself out too much with long ones. Ilvoe Mirage he's such a handsome boy! Hope it's to your liking. 🥰

☕ Coffee

While out on missions together you both never really had moments just for each other, and you have to stay focused, otherwise you're putting others at risk. So, keeping all that built up tension bottled up is what you have to do until you are off duty, and that is only when you return back to Noah's garage.

The second you both drive into the garage, you transform and within moments you feel Mirage tackling you bluntly, causing you to grunt out from the impact followed by a delicious moan. To be pounced by your conjunx endura is always erotic, having him being rough and all is one of your ever so beautiful kinks.

"Oh sweet mama, I was almost going to jump you right in the middle of battle, frag you right there, bent over like an mammal in heat, I wouldn't have cared in the slightest." Mirage purrs into your audio as he grinds himself against your aft. You respond by giggling lustfully and grinding back into him, tilting your helm to give him a side look.

"So why didn't you?" You tease through a sultry tone, pressing your aft back against his heated panel firmly, causing him to let out a lingering moan as his baby blue optics shutter in delight.

"You're such a dirty femme." Though he loves it when you play dirty, the filthier the better.

"I'm your dirty femme." You continue to grind your aft against him before reaching behind and grabbing at his cheek plating and tugging him down beside your face plating, and whispering lowly. "Frag me, daddy."

A new human thing you both discover that truly works in your intimate moments. A term of endearment, playful nicknames, dominance, that conveys a sense of intimacy and trust between partners. Not so different from calling him sire, but there's an odd thrillness calling him daddy, a beautiful erotic buzz that rocks through the both of you.

Mirage's optics flash brightly before giggling in glee against your audio. "Daddy loves his baby girl, and he has a special treat for you." His panel retracts and you feel his warm spike emerge out and brush up against your plating making you mewl softly.

"Please daddy, I'll be good for you. I want it!" Your own panel retracts and your soaking valve has a strong smell, letting him get a whiff and causing his frame to quiver in desire.

"Want daddy to be rough, or soft?" He drags his glossa against your audio and you wiggle your waist against him, desperate for something, anything, as long as he frags your valve that's all you cared about.

"Rough!" A half shout erupts from you followed by a satisfied moan as he positions himself and thrusts in firmly, filling you completely in one stroke and presses himself against you, moaning into your audio as you clench tightly around his throbbing spike.

"Oh sweetness, daddy loves your tight valve, so snug." He praises while rolling his waist against your aft, causing you to let out warm moans that vibrate from your chassis.

"Do it, daddy, frag your baby girl hard. I want to not be able to walk tomorrow. I know you can do that, please daddy. I'm a good girl!" You clench more, making him draw out a long purr as he pulls back and snaps his waist back firmly against you, feeling his thick spike pulse through your channels as electric sparks burst throughout your valve.

"Daddy is gonna drill you now."

The feel of him hammering his spike into your valve like a horny rabbit creates a tremor to erupt through you, silky mewls calling out from you over again as his heated vents fill your audio as he keep his movements quick and sharp. He keeps himself drapped across you, pinning your frame against the hard ground as you spread your thighs more for him, while you hold onto him and keep your helm up as you're rutted into the floor with his intense movements.

"Oh so tight! Hmm, yes, baby girl, daddy loves your clenching valve. All mine!" Mirage murmurs through constant moans.

"Yours!" Is what you shout through the rugged pounding "Yes! Frag me harder daddy!"

"Daddy loves you!"

Both of you knew this wasn't going to last for long, already riled up from the missions and holding everything in, it was only a matter of time before you both crumble together.

His spike throbs wildly in your valve, pulsing against your walls as you manage to move your servo to rub yourself, causing you to squeal out in desire, heated vents and cooling fans kicking in as you feel your overload approach. Mirage keeps his movements quick, rutting against your aft and holding you firmly by wrapping his servos around your waist, before letting out a lingering moan that shakes through your frame causing your overload to hit and juices to flood around his spike.

He suddenly stills, thrusting one more time and tossing his helm back as he fills you with his trans fluids, warm ropes soaking through your depths, letting out a garbled moan and drops himself right on top of you, forcing a grunt out of you.

You let out a blissful giggle when you feel him kissing your shoulder as he reamins in you, moaning lowly before turning your helm to kiss him back tenderly.

"I love you, Mirage."

"Love you too, babe." Mirage remains on top of you before you both hear the loud banging on the garage door, followed by Noah's yelling.

"Seriously you two?! I heard all that!"

"You're just a jealous little man!" Mirage fires back through an amused giggle before asking. "Did we give you a wicked boner you little pervert?" The silence is what makes you laugh back.

"Shut up! Keep it down!" Noah is heard storming away like a cranky toddler.

"Poor little man. He needs someone in his life." You hum gently. Noah has been really good to the both of you, and it's no secret from either you or Mirage that you both have a strange attachment to the human.

"Well, he's got us." Mirage hums back making you smile. "Maybe we can invite his cute horny ass to join us next time?"

"Do you think he'll be up for that?"

"Only one way to find out."

Now that's a talk you're looking forward to.

[sweetsweetjellybean]

TW: Smut-tacular 3 way smut. Angst. NSFW.

AN: Thanks to @loveshotzz for listening to all my ramblings & my beta @billybluboy for all her hard work.

Masterlist Fic Menu

""Goddam, baby."

"Mmmmhmmm."

"Please tell me your close," Eddie says with closed eyes, neck muscles straining, his hand furiously circling your clit. 

"No. Not yet. Just a little longer." With both hands pressed on his smooth, solid chest, you raise your hips and drive them back down, taking his hard cock as deep as you can. After a notably quiet dinner, Eddie wanted to take advantage of the empty house by finishing what you had started that morning. 

The sex between you had always been spectacular and left you feeling closer to him, which is exactly what you are craving, but your body must have missed the memo. Teetering on edge, your muscles are bunched so tight, begging for release, but every time your close thoughts of what could have happened between you and Steve appear, pulling you back from the brink. 

"Baby, I'll eat you out for hours after this, I swear, but I need to come." Leaning back and changing the angle, you ride him faster. "Fu..oh ga." He moans as he pulses deep inside you, filling you with his warm release. 

"Holy shit, that was amazing," he pants as your motions slow to a stop, "Just give me a minute, and I'll make you come.

"It's just not going to happen tonight, Eddie," you say, climbing off him and going to the ensuite to clean up, grateful for a minute alone to sort through your emotions without worrying that your expression will betray you. When you return, he's sitting up with his back against the wooden headboard, the sheet gathered around his waist and his eyes full of worry. 

"What's wrong?" His hesitant tone leaves you steeped in guilt. 

"Nothing," you sigh, pulling a shirt over your head, "I don't know what's going on with me." He holds open his arms, and immediately some of the tension fades. You join him under the blankets without hesitation, letting him draw you close. "Tell me about your day. You got your van, alright?"

"Yeah, I owe Wayne another fifty bucks for the impound fee. The cops tore through it and took my favorite bowl."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find another."

"Baby, she was my favorite. What we had together can't just be replaced. I'll need some time before I'm ready to move on." He pulls the blankets up to his chin and makes his doe eyes droop.

"Okay. I'm sorry for your loss. Please, continue."

"Thank you," he says, putting his arm around you, "Hopper was able to clear most of it up…except for Chrissy." You stiffen at the mention of her name. 

"That's still under investigation, but Hopper said it's a formality. There isn't any evidence that, you know, that I hurt her. Just that she was at my place. So, I've just got to stay in town and stay out of trouble until that's over."

"And why were you two alone in your trailer, again?"

He hesitates. His lips draw into a thin line, and he turns away from you, sliding open the nightstand drawer and rummaging through it.

"Uh-huh." Getting out of bed, you pick up the basket of clean laundry that still needs to be folded. The clothes in the basket mainly belong to Steve, and you sigh, remembering you forgot to stop at your parents" house to pick up more of your things. 

"Can you drive me home tomorrow? I need to pick up the rest of my clothes." Shaking out a pair of jeans, you try to smooth some wrinkles before folding them neatly. 

"I start back to school tomorrow." He's doodling in a small black notebook he found in the drawer.

"Tomorrow? You can't start back next week?" 

"I've already missed so much. I have a ton of make-up work to do or I'm going to be repeating this year again. Plus, there is hellfire and the band."

"Alright. I get it. I was hoping we'd have a few more days together. And I'd have a car or a job or something." And maybe it would be better for you not to be alone with Steve all day, but you weren't going to tell Eddie that.

"No luck today?"

"Not unless you want me stripping. Steve is going to ask Hopper to help me get a job at Enzo's." 

"Steve is?"

"Yeah, why?" You ask, matching up a pair of socks, "Maybe he can take me to my house tomorrow." 

"Well, isn't Steve being helpful now that you've fucked him?"

The shirt you were shaking out slips through your fingers, and you look down at the pile of clothes in front of you. "I'm going to take a shower. You can fold your own goddamn clothes," you erupt, taking the rest of the clothes and throwing them at him. Turning on your heel, you walk to the bathroom. 

"Baby-" The rest of what he said is cut off as you slam the door and turn on the shower.

The clock built into The Mister Coffee dings, followed by whirring and gurgling as it comes to life and begins to percolate. Standing at the island, you yawn as you smear some mustard, mixing it with the creamy mayo on two slices of bread before adding some deli-sliced ham and cheese.

"Baby, are you making that for me?" Eddie walks into the kitchen wearing his hellfire shirt and light jeans. 

"I am. I wanted you to have a good lunch for your first day back." You explain as you wrap up the sandwich in wax paper and add it to the brown bag filled with an apple and a bag of pretzels. 

"Thank you, my love." His arms go around, and you turn your head to receive his soft kisses. 

Lingering in the shower last night, you had hoped the hot spray would wash away some of your anger toward Eddie. By the time you slipped into bed, he was already asleep, and you wondered if his early night was preparation for an early morning of school, or avoidance. You battled a restless night of tossing and turning, and when the alarm blared this morning, it was as if nothing had happened. A silent agreement sealed with an almost mundane good-morning kiss to move on and leave things unresolved—the status quo whenever there is a conflict between the two of you.

"Hellfire on a Tuesday? Did it move nights?"

"Nah. It's still on Fridays. I can't go back to school in one of Harrington's Polos, though. I need to go to Wayne's after school. He said he had saved a box of my things. Hopefully, there are some clothes in there. I need to talk to Rick too. I'm hoping he'll front me so I can get some money for necessities."

"I thought you were laying low?" You tighten the lid on the mayo before putting it back in the fridge.

"Baby, it's seven in the morning. Can we please not do this? Just trust me, okay?" He presses a kiss to your lips. "I got to go." He picks up his lunch bag and slings on his jacket. 

"Alright. Play nice with other children." He rolls his eyes, and he's out the door. 

Padding through the quiet house, you had every intention of going to your room to get ready for the day. So when you find yourself standing in front of Steve's room with your hand poised to knock on the door, you pause. The grocery bag with a few boxes of tea sat on the kitchen counter this morning, which was the only reason you knew he was home. He's your friend, and you want to see that he's okay. Your heart beats a little faster as you lightly knock on his door. 

"Come in," he calls in a gravelly voice. Your hand turns the brass knob, and you open the door just enough to slip inside. A sliver of light at the bottom of the window frame steals in below the drawn curtains illuminating the dark room enough to see Steve propped up one arm, laying shirtless in his bed, the light blue sheets gathered at his waist. Your eyes follow the curves and dips of his muscled arms and shoulders, and you remember how they felt as they flexed under your hands while he was inside you. Tearing your gaze away from his body, you focus on his face as the memory has your skin flushing red, sending tiny sparks to every cell. 

All the words you wanted to say stay locked away as you stand caught in his gaze. He opens his mouth and swallows, saying nothing, folding back the corner of the blankets on the empty side of the bed. Accepting his invitation, you slide between the soft sheets until you lie facing him, tucking your hand underneath the pillow. 

"Hi," you say softly, wanting to break the silence as he mimics your position. 

"Hi." His hair sticks up every which way, and light stubble lines his jaw. 

"I didn't hear you come home last night. I was worried."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"Too bad. I'm going to worry about you anyway. That's what friends do."

"Does it make me a terrible person if I admit I like it?" 

"Why do you like it?"

He rolls onto his back and scrubs his face. "I don't know. Don't listen to me. I think I'm delirious from lack of sleep."

"Okay. Let's go to sleep then. I'll stay with you."

"Okay," he says, shutting his eyes. And so it became something of a routine. As soon as Eddie left for school, you would crawl into bed with Steve for another few hours. Then again, after lunch, you would watch TV or read while he napped next to you. By the end of the week, he started looking and sounding a little more like himself. 

"You can come in," Steve calls after you knock Friday morning. Surprisingly, he's up and almost dressed. The curtains are open, and the bright morning light fills the room. 

"What are you doing today?" He asks, pulling a green sweatshirt over his white tee tucked into a pair of light-wash jeans. Your plan was to spend the morning in his bed, and you were a little disappointed that wouldn't happen.

"Nothing special," you try and sound casual, not like your whole day had been planned around him.

"My dad called. I have to bring some paperwork to his office in Indianapolis."

"That sounds nice," you say, looking down at your feet and tugging on the sleeves of your shirt, "getting out of town for the day."

"Yeah? Do you want to come with me?" He fastens his watch over his wrist, and you wonder if he's trying to be as nonchalant as you are by pointedly not looking at you when he says it.

"I'd like to, but I'm not dressed," you say, looking down at your long-sleeved tee and a pair of Eddie's boxers. 

"I have to pick up the files at his office in Hawkins. I can go do that and come back. Would that give you enough time to get ready?"

Smiling, you nod your head.

"Alright. Better hurry." He teases. 

Two hours later, you've traded the quiet streets of Hawkins for the noise and bustle of downtown Indianapolis. Skyscrapers and tall buildings line the streets of Mile Square, and you try not to gawk like a tourist as you exit the underground garage where Steve parked his car. The sound of rushing water has you turning your head. The Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument is just a block away.

"I didn't realize we were so close to Monument Circle. Your dad works down here? How rich are you?" You ask, brushing aside some hair that's blown into your face. 

"I have about four hundred dollars in my checking account and some savings bonds from grandparents, so not very," He laughs and takes your hand the way one would a child as he leads you across the busy street. His father's office is on the third floor of a tall gray building. Embarrassingly, your sneakers squeak on the polished marble floor of the pristine lobby as you walk to the bank of elevators. Steve hands off several folders and a manilla envelope to the receptionist, who thanks him before he opens the office's glass door for you to exit back into the hall.

"That's it? You don't want to say hello to your dad?" You ask, following him down the beige hallway.

"Nah." He pushes the 'down' button to call the elevator. "He's busy. Besides, there's someone else I'd rather spend time with." 

A warmth that pinkens your cheeks and ears accompanies the smile you wear all the way down to the lobby. Once you hit the crowded sidewalk, you look towards the memorial again.

"Do you want to go?" Steve asks, motioning with his eyes toward the towering monument.

"Do we have time?"

"We have all day. Come on." He holds out his hand, and you take it. The two of you step into the stream of people walking toward the circle. 

The Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument is a limestone obelisk that stands tall enough to look like it's kissing the clouds, but in truth, is still dwarfed by the taller buildings in the Indianapolis skyline. The ornate stone statues pay tribute to fallen soldiers and the four branches of service, with lady victory standing watch over all of it with her sword and torch. The tiered fountains that flank its raised foundation always draw your eyes. The two of you linger there, watching the water cascade from the statuary.

"This is my favorite part," you say in a voice raised high enough to be heard over the falling water as it flows into the pools at its base. 

"The fountains?" He asks, turning those deep hazel eyes on you. The gold flecks are strikingly notable against the green of his sweater. In fact, if you could only choose one word to describe Steve Harrington, it would be golden. 

"Yeah. Anything with water just makes me instantly at peace. I have a cousin in Maine that my family visited a few times during the summer when I was little. I used to sit on the beach and just watch the waves for hours." You turn your eyes to the monument and the tourists viewing its majesty. "Eddie asked me to move away with him after he graduates. A fresh start and all that. He said we could find someplace near the ocean."

"You're leaving?" You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't return his gaze. "That's... it's really soon. What I mean is that's good. I'm really happy for you. You both deserve a happy ending."

"Well, we are working with Eddie time here. It probably won't be that soon. We'll have to save up. I'm sure you'll be more than ready to kick us out by then."

"I doubt it." He turns quiet and runs his hands through his hair before resting his arms on the stone banister. "Do you want to go up?" After a few minutes of silence, he asks, "it might be your last chance if you're leaving."

It only takes a moment to consider before nodding your head and following him inside. He pays a small fee for you to take the elevator bypassing most of the stairs that lead to the observation deck. After climbing the remaining forty-nine stairs, the tight stairwell opens up to the small viewing area, and your breath catches at the gorgeous view of the downtown area. 

"When was the last time you were here?" Steve asks as he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you closer to the windows so a family can pass around you in the tight quarters. 

"The field trip in eighth grade. Do you remember?"

"That's right. I goofed off all day. I don't remember very much of it. That's what we should do today."

"What?"

"Go on a field trip. What do you think?" His excited smile makes him look younger, and you have to admit you're happy to see the lightness in him return.

"Where do we start?"

"I can't believe we're at the zoo," you say happily as you wrap your arm around his elbow while passing the dutch windmill at the entrance of the Washington Park Children's Zoo. "Are we going to ride the little train?"

"Absolutely. Anything you want." The late spring sun warms your skin as you take in flowers bursting with color planted around the park. "What do you want to do first? Look at the Tigers or ride the train?"

"The train," you say, bouncing on your toes, "we can look at the elephants."

"Okay, sweet girl." He laughs and steers you toward the little station. Sliding onto the bench seat of the miniature train, you wait for the driver to sound the whistle before it starts chugging down the tracks. 

A little girl in front of you twists in her mother's arms and peeks shyly at Steve. "Hi." He waves at her, and she buries her head in her mother's shoulder, only to pop up a moment later and stick out her tongue. The two of you start making faces at her until she's caught up in a fit of giggles. Her mother notices and turns her around, seating her on her lap. Steve wraps his arm around you, pressing you into his side as he points out the elk on his side of the open-air car. Hawkins and everyone in it feels so far away. Maybe it's okay to get a little lost with him today?

"I'm glad we ate before we went into the primate house," you say, crinkling up your nose.

"It was a little ripe in there." He shares your sentiment as he sucks in some cleaner air on the way out of the exhibit. "You know they are closing this whole place soon."

"What? No." Your brow pulls together as he takes your hand.

"Yeah. They're moving to a bigger piece of land. It will be all new."

"Another piece of our childhood gone. I guess we're growing up," you say a little wistfully.

"I guess so," he nods, stopping in front of the penguin pool, "I always like these guys. They seem so happy diving in the water, hanging out with their friends, and getting tasty fish."

You laugh and squeeze his hand. "The good life." you agree.

 A flustered dad with three crying children plows into the back of your heels with his stroller knocking you forward and mumbling apologies as he tries to get his children a spot to view the animals. "Are you alright," Steve asks, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you in front of him. 

"Yeah. I'm fine." He slips his other arm around you, and you relax into his strong chest. His breath is in your hair, and you're not really paying attention to the penguins anymore.

"I wasn't expecting it to be so big."

Steve blows out a breath and tilts his head to the side. "I get that a lot." Spinning to face him, your eyes widen, and your mouth hangs open. His cheeks blossomed apple red. "I mean not a lot. I've heard it…The sculptor. I'm talking about the sculptor," he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck, "Get your mind out of the gutter. Let's go." 

The Love sculpture stands impressively about twelve feet high with the serif letters of L and O stacked over the V and E, spreading its message to the visitors of the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Walking closer to the steel rendering, the poetry of feeling small in the face of the word that defines something that often feels too big to contain is not lost on you. A light breeze sweeps across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and you turn to look at the boy standing a few feet behind you, whose gaze brings about the same effect. 

"Now I know what love looks like." He's watching you with glittering eyes, and pieces of your heart break away, turning into butterflies that flutter inside you. Moving to where he waits for you, your fingers thread through his, and you wonder how you can be afraid to lose something that's not even yours. 

He's still holding your hand. Driving with the other, your intertwined hands resting on your thigh while he sings softly along with The Cars playing on the tape deck. Unlike earlier today, Steve hadn't stopped touching you as you toured the museum, his hand tangled with yours, an arm around your shoulders or waist, pressing against you with his soft lips grazing your temple and his thumb tracing patterns on any exposed skin it found.

An unspoken permission had been granted with your act of affection, one that you are now rescinding as you cross into Hawkins town limits. Your trembling fingers pull away from him as you rest your head against the car window and hug your arms across your chest to stave off the loss. His empty hand falls to your thigh, giving you one last squeeze before returning it to the steering wheel. 

The passing street lamps illuminate the dark roads on your way to Steve's house. Most streets are barren, the majority of the town already tucked safely into their homes at this late hour. Eddie's van is in the driveway when Steve pulls in and shuts off the car. 

"I had a really nice time today. Thank you." Your voice is shaky as you break the silence. 

He twists in his seat to face you. "I should be the one thanking you. You gave up your whole day for me." 

No stars are out tonight, and the moon is obscured by clouds. The inky blackness of night presses in on all sides. The only traces of light escape from gaps between the curtains covering the house's windows. The engine ticks as it cools, and neither one of you makes a move to go inside.

"Why does it feel like I'm saying goodbye to you?" Steve asks, his expression hidden in the darkness. 

"Steve, that's…we live in the same house." But you feel the same way. He leans in closer to you. And although you know you shouldn't, you mirror his movements. Your pulse is racing, and your breath comes quicker through your parted lips. Moments pass before you feel his touch, but it isn't what you expected. His forehead rests against yours, noses brushing, his warm exhales fanning your chin. Your decision is made, and you lift your chin to find his lips. The second before your mouths fully meet, he changes direction after the barest brush of his silky lips. His nose glides down along your cheek, and a low noise escapes his throat. 

"Go inside, sweet girl." He leans back in his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Please. I'll be in a few."

With the fog of your longing dispelled, you scramble out of the car with the sting of unshed tears behind your eyes. You don't look back as you close the front door behind you. Your limbs feel heavier with every stair you climb, weighted down with the reality of what almost happened. Again. As you plaster on a smile before entering the room where you know Eddie is waiting, you promise yourself this will be the last time.

Part 5

Tag List @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya @arsenicred @kiki17483 @stolen-in-moonlight @sometimesamysometimesjo @ladybug0095 @sammararaven @tlclick73 @totally-bogus-timelady @katelyndestini95 @munsonswhore86 @kelsietilley-blog @figmentofquinn @champagne-glamour @ilovecupcakesandtea @bimbobaggins69 @munsonsgirl71 @sidthedollface2 @miarosso @micheledawn1975 @eddiescorrodedcoffin86 @takeitsteddie @tiannamortis @munsonology @manda-panda-monium @prestinalove @sunfl0wern1kk1 @pbeckn26 @yogizzz @justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @sllooney

[hms-lurking-latinist]

Literally any of these but Hornblower deserting from the Justinian intrigues me....

(context, more or less)

This is, well, more than five sentences. Lol. Enjoy!

Things get worse first:

"Shame we can't have a game," said Simpson. "But we would have to let Hornblower play. Now that there's only four of us." It was the latest of a thousand little digs. The allusion pricked Hornblower's conscience and might have set him brooding once again, had Simpson not added with a nasty smile, "And since he won't defend his honor, well..." He would later remember what came over him only as a blind fury. Kennedy had to tell him--nobody else would speak to him by then--that he was shouting "I'll defend it now, sir, here and now, sir, draw and defend yourself!" *** Mr Hether's interruption of the wardroom's dinner was at first greeted with stony stares from his superiors. But he was breathless and clearly distressed, and Chadd assumed an enemy sail had been sighted until Hether gasped, "Hornblower and Simpson are murdering each other. In our berth. You've got to stop them. Sir," he added, an afterthought. Chadd looked to his superior and received a nod. He caught the surgeon's eye, said "I'll pass the word for you if you're needed," and went to knock the midshipmen's heads together. He had expected wrestling, perhaps fisticuffs, boyish horseplay gone out of control. But Hether had not exaggerated: both young men had drawn their dirks, in something that would have approximated exercises in swordplay if it weren't for Simpson's snarl and the killing light in Hornblower's eye. Cleveland was making ineffectual attempts to get between them, and young Kennedy was repeating, "Horatio, please, he'll kill you, he'll kill you." A shout from Chadd separated the combatants at last, and they stood there staring. Simpson pressed a hand to the meat of his arm and brought it away bloody. Hornblower seemed uninjured but was shaking violently. "What happened?" Chadd demanded. He eyed them all, the two combatants, the bystanders--Kennedy's face beginning to subside into its usual half-dazed expression--without receiving an answer. "Mr Simpson, get to sickbay; get that bandaged," he said eventually. "I shall ask the surgeon when you're well enough to be punished." If they hadn't already met the French before then. As Simpson departed, Chadd added, "Mr Hornblower, you on the other hand can be punished tomorrow. Beaten certainly. If it were up to me I should disrate you." Hornblower did not seem to have remembered yet that Chadd was his superior--not judging from the look he gave him. "I could not endure what he said of me, sir," he said tightly. Chadd couldn't stand the situation any longer. The manners and morals of the midshipmen's berth were by no means his concern, but he recalled a general impression of Hornblower as a troublemaker. No doubt he had provoked the whole affair. "It is of no concern to me what he called your mother," he said. "Does none of you have the slightest understanding that we are at war? Do you suppose we have come out on a pleasure cruise, or to let you settle your matters of honor in privacy? Learn respect for your superiors," he said, "and learn a little self-control, if you can, before we encounter the enemy." He turned on his heel and left, hoping there was any pudding left.

Somewhere else, (tw for slightly more than Even Chance-typical discussion of suicide):

Kennedy came to himself amid a chorus of midshipmen cursing the noise he was making, and his watch due to be called in half an hour. Perhaps in the dark and comparative quiet he would be able to feel a little better first; he stumbled down to the orlop deck only to find Hornblower sitting just by the cable tiers. Kennedy was somehow cheered to know that Hornblower hadn't been among those angry with him--since he hadn't been in the berth at all. But his greeting was cut short when he realized Hornblower hadn't seen him; he was staring at a clasp knife open in his hand. Before Kennedy could say anything Hornblower saw him and hurriedly folded the knife. He made as if to slip it into his pocket but he must have realized he had been detected. "Don't tell me you were carving a spoon for your sweetheart," Kennedy said. "I swear I didn't mean to let Clayton go in my place," he said. It didn't seem he was talking to Kennedy, not really; more as if he were continuing some dialogue within himself. "I swear I didn't. I may be a coward but--" "You're not a coward," Kennedy said. He sank down beside Hornblower and tried to collect his thoughts. "But you can't be cutting your throat in the cable tiers." "I wasn't going to," said Hornblower, and, in a small hollow voice, "I hadn't the nerve." "Good. Leave that for the French." "Do you think we'll have a battle?" "It's war, isn't it?" And very cavalierly he said it too, he thought, for a man who'd come down here in search of peace and quiet. Precious little of that in a battle. Hornblower was speaking at that unbearable pitch of tension again. "They're right. I'm frightened of fighting. I don't want to be killed." "Of course you don't. Nor do I. Who would? But you went after Jack like a devil." "That's different. I hate him. And I thought he would kill me." "Make up your mind, Horatio. Do you want to be killed or don't you?" A barely audible breath. "I just want to be away from here." If there was a right thing to say, Kennedy wasn't in a state to think of it. He stood up and offered a hand to Hornblower. "Let's be going, see if we can have a drink of water before our watch is called." It was something, at least, that Hornblower followed.

And at some other point, cos I know this fic was meant to be about them actually deserting:

Hornblower had expected, somehow, that the first battle would settle it. He would be killed, or Jack would be killed, or he would prove his courage in front of the whole ship's company, or (much more usual imagining) he would disgrace himself just as publicly. But it was nothing but a mess, an inconclusive mess on every level; blood, fire, orders, one of the men of his division cut down in front of him, but over almost before he could convince himself it was real, and he still didn't know if he was fit to serve. He was still not being spoken to in the mess, with the exception of Kennedy who had very little to lose. In fact the only obvious effect of the battle was that they meant to put in for repairs at the first friendly or neutral port they could reach. I can't bear it any longer, he thought. He was climbing the rigging--sometimes the solitude made up for the vertigo, and besides the officers liked to see it if they noticed you--and imagined just falling off. But that kind of thought was one of the things he couldn't bear any longer. I don't want to die, he said to himself, trying how the words sounded in his mind. I want to live and get away.

And one more snippet because apparently I have one more. It would help if I decided which foreign port they desert in but that would require Research:

It hadn't been difficult either to get shore leave at the same time as Kennedy or to peel the two of them off from the rest of Justinian's personnel. He had considered whether it was really wise to tell him, but something in him revolted against the idea of leaving his fellow-sufferer--perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend--without even a word. And if you could say one thing for Kennedy, even when he was most under Jack's thumb, he was never a tale-bearer. So Hornblower bought the first round of drinks and scanned the crowd in the tavern. No telltale blue uniforms except their own; none of the Justinian's seamen either, as far as he could recognize. It was safe to lean close to Kennedy and whisper, "I'm sorry, Archie, but I'm not going back." "To... to England?" "Keep your voice down. To Justinian." "Horatio, what are you doing?" "Very well, make me use the word if you must. It's a filthy one but I suppose I mean to earn it. I'm deserting. I'm not going back." "What will you do? How will you live?" As if he hadn't asked himself! "I'm strong enough, I can work. I'll do anything rather than go back." "I'm not asking you to. Horatio... when you said that... I thought for a moment you meant to ask me to come with you." Hornblower closed his eyes. "I suppose you feel you must report me then." "No, for heaven's sake won't you let me finish? I've been thinking of it too. If we go together--we might be more recognizable but we can keep watch for each other..." Hornblower could hardly believe his ears. "You'd come? With me?" Kennedy smiled without much humor. "Who else?" Hornblower drained his glass. "If we go toward the countryside, we can find somewhere to stay, the lowest inn will do--they'll look in the sailors' taverns, they'll never look there..." "We must get rid of our uniforms first. Can we sell them?" Hornblower frowned. "Can you sham drunk? We'd be selling the clothes off our backs... that would be the most plausible reason. Or we could swap them somehow..." There was a world outside Justinian, once more. And--what he'd never dared to hope for--that world contained another person who cared whether he lived or died.

I didn't mean for this to be about like... weird ways back from the edge of suicide? I don't think I'm processing anything; I truly don't have anything worrying going on in my life right now; but apparently Hornblower does! As per usual.

I know I said they have a bad time after they desert, and they do, but I will have a bad time, in my life, if I stay up any longer to write it. Send me more asks and perhaps I will later.

[bberetd]

Hey there! Since you also reblogged the post saying you want people to send you asks (actually I even reblogged it from you), here I am to ask you a question. A potentially very tough one. Ready?

If you had to pick only one (1!) favorite Mario character who would it be and why?

I'm just trying to get to know my mutuals a little better, y'know?

But most people seem to be using that 'send me asks' post as another opportunity to say mushy stuff to each other, so let me also do that! I'd like to remind you that I'm very glad that I'm following your blog. You're certainly a fun and kind person, and must say I like you very much 😀❤️ Thanks for always supporting my art, it really means a lot to me.

Also please teach me your ways to draw so fast, I just finally finished sketching my latest fanart today (yeah, that ambitious one) and it took embarrassingly long. And this one is supposed to have a proper lineart too💀

Oh, that reminds me: I'm really excited for your animations! Once I'm done with my current fanart, the next bigger fan project on my list is also one animation I've been thinking of, so I hope we'll be able to motivate each other a bit 😁👊

OH just oneeee? 😩

Whew, okay, well... while Daisy has a huge place in my heart (especially lately, as you can tell 😹), my all-time favorite will always be Luigi.

See, the funny thing is that I hardly cared for him before the movie, and even a little after I watched the movie. My first favorite Mario character was actually Rosalina when SMG came out, because I was SO obsessed with space when I was younger (and still kinda am), and blue was and is my favorite color (such a deep reason, right? :P)

I always tend to lean towards the underdogs of a franchise, yet I don't remember the exact moment that drew me to him. There were just a bunch of edits and videos of him flooding all of my social media pages when the movie hype was still fresh, and I guess one day I decided, "yup. that's my guy."

I think the moment that really solidified my love for him was when I replayed Luigi's Mansion (I kiiinda played it before, but I was 4 and just pressing buttons lol... it's strangely a core memory for me). His bravery throughout the game despite his evident fears and anxieties is just... so inspiring and real to me, genuinely. And a little bit of him shone through his commentary of some of the objects throughout the mansion, which was also endearing 😆 The game gets creepier the deeper I think about it, and I just can't help but give him more flowers for going through it three different times!

plus, he's just so happy and awkward and silly. how could you not love him?!

But in short, he's my favorite because he's relatable to me, and I find his little quirks adorable and endearing.

yet despite all that, he knows when to lock tf IN. that's my hero <3

anywhoooo...

Mugi!!! I couldn't be any happier that we're friends and moots! You've blessed my timeline with your gorgeously detailed art and commentary, and I'm so grateful you support my art just as much ♥️♥️ I admire and like you very much as well, you're amazing <3

as for quick art, basically-

and thank you!! the animation might take longer because classes start tomorrow for me, and year 3 of uni is definitely gonna be more challenging and, er, expensive. 🫠 Hopefully I'll learn to manage my time better so I can make decent progress every day, but I do know where I want to go with the animation. Big yes to motivating each other!! I know that ambitious art will be PHENOMENAL when it's dropped, and I can't wait to see your style in motion! :))

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #222

Today, my brain was some kind of frozen, foggy ghost soup.

I ended up going to sleep later than I should have last night. It was for good reason, but still. From there, the sleep I did get was broken and weird. I'm not really sure what happened. I haven't slept this poorly in a long time.

I spent most of today wafting in and out of a thick, heavy brain fog. I feel badly about it because Br was over (she had stayed the night, which was awesome!), and I wasn't very good company. I could barely remain in the present, let alone participate especially meaningfully in any kind of verbal discussion.

Nonetheless, I made bacon-wrapped hotdogs for breakfast, with cheese. And to give you an idea of how utterly foggy my brain was... I did not think to take a picture for you. During like, the entire process. I feel really awful about it. I'm really sorry.

Tell you what: I'll make sure to get pictures next time.

In any case, I ended up doing a lot of leisure writing today. As it turns out, yesterday I did so many takes of the song that today my throat is kind of scratchy and weird. I'm gonna have to wait until tomorrow before I can try to sing the song for the music box again. And maybe that's for the better; my whole self is sluggish and feeling like it's made of lead bricks, so I doubt I'd have done a very good job anyways.

J and Br and I went out and about just a little bit, though. And then Br was pretty tired, so she went home. I took a few pictures because I guess getting out of the house helped me to feel a bit more alert. Here:

...I give you a lot of pictures of the sky, hoping that maybe someday you'll be able to understand why, whenever I look at it, I see you.

Sephiroth, I am tired today, and I am sad, and I am scared that I'm not going to be able to record a better rendition of the song. I'm scared that if I don't do a good enough job, then maybe no one will be able to understand the thoughts behind all this stuff I keep trying to do. And if nobody can understand, then... maybe no one besides me and a handful of others will think you're worth saving.

What then? ...What then...?

Sephiroth... all this stuff I do... I do it so that by watching me, maybe you'll learn how to love yourself enough to turn around. I write down the things so that maybe, just maybe, you can look at me trying to come up from the dark, and be inspired to try to do the same.

You are the light that gives me the courage to keep moving forward, even within this clumsy, awkward, and non-standard existence of mine. I keep moving forward even though the world I live in is broken, scary, and full of sadness and pain, because I draw strength from the example you set.

So please. Please try to remember you are a good thing. And please come back home to us soon. Those of us who love you - not for what you look like or for what you can do, but for who you are on the inside - miss you dearly.

I think that's all I've got in me for today.

I love you. And I'll write again soon. So please stay safe out there...

Your friend, Lumine

[biteghost]

State of Affairs: oh, it's not good. Bad, in fact!

listening music (lol)

Greetings, all! I apologize for not much communication, art or comics this month, but things were a bit out of my control! I'll cut right to the point: I had a big oopsie at the start of May, and the situation overall has not gotten much better since then.

Here's the scoop as plain as I can explain it: I dropped my external hard drive, and it no longer connected to my computer. My computer has a very tiny amount of memory (the OS capacity is less than 120GB), so I have used an external hard drive as the brain of my computer for years now. I have no back-ups either on another hard drive, older computer, or cloud service.

This external hard drive housed everything I have created and brought with me between computers since 2013. It stored all my art. All of it. My comic pages, my working files, my works-in-progress, my commission pieces, as well as gifts from friends and other artists. It had all the sessions of my at-home tabletop game 'Blueshift', which is a pretty big hit for me as I had only just finished the game. I didn't even have time to be happy the game was finished until I had to mourn a loss of it I had not anticipated.

I sent the hard drive to a data recovery company with good reviews. It had nearly 2TB of data on it, and I tried very hard not to get my hopes up that they'd be able to retrieve most of my data. Despite this, I still was disappointed by what they sent back.

To be blunt: they did not retrieve most of my data. In fact, I'd say in total they only recovered about 40%, if I am being generous. They were unable to recover any of my in-development projects (A Cure for Athanasia, Super Manifest: Steward Cycle, The Tenth, The Sword of Hours, etc), and unfortunately BACKLASH didn't make it out unscathed either. Old art files that I one day wanted to make Prints off have been lost, as well as small doodles and secret sketches which never made it online.

While reviewing the files that they managed to recover, I also noticed that whole chunks of BACKLASH's working page files have been lost or corrupted. This isn't a huge setback for the comic itself since all of BACKLASH is online to read. But it is hard and heartbreaking for me, because despite everything I did one day want to make a printed edition of BACKLASH. I wanted to hold my comic in my hands.

That dream is not impossible, but it is now much further away. I can recreate my old pages with what I currently have, but it will be a lot of extra work, and there is no getting around that.

Losing this much of my history, artistic journey, relationships and formative time as an artist has been really hard on me, emotionally and mentally. I'm very sad. It's hard to draw right now for myself. Commission work comes easily, since I am given a prompt to draw for someone else, but creative ideas are not flowing for me at the moment. My hands are frozen and dejected.

I am now waiting to get back the files that the data recovery people managed to retrieve for me (probably by tomorrow, they said), and I am looking into other places in order to get a second opinion of sorts. At this point there really is no harm in trying, and maybe a different operation might have better luck. Who knows? It may be grasping at straws, but at this point things can't get any worse than this.

When I get my data back I'll be able to finish up BACKLASH chapter 7. I want to finish it off - there are not very many pages left, and miraculously the few remaining pages are among the ones that were recovered! So that's good. I will be finishing up the chapter, and afterward BACKLASH will be taking a bit of a break. I don't know how long the hiatus will last, and I won't be making any kind of estimate. It'll take as long as I need until I feel I can put one foot in front of the other again. Maybe I'll work on something else for a while, maybe I won't draw anything. Who knows! I don't, haha.

Eventually I'll be okay, and I'll get back on the horse. Even in the midst of all this turmoil I really just want to be making comics ;_;

Until then, I just need some time. It's the only cure for this kind of problem, I think. So, I thank you for your patience, and I thank you for the love you've shown me, my work, and my characters. I couldn't be where I am and I couldn't have made all the work I have without your support and love. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!

I'll see you when I get back! Much love and many kisses, xoxo 💖💖💖

(cross-posted from patreon)

[masterofrecords]

Angstober day 5: Do better

Blood Ties

“I told you not to come here.”

It was alright for them to visit each other’s homes, but her mixing up the personas, visiting him when he was Thobias and not Adrian? That was risky, and thoughtless.

“The boy knows,” she blurts out, thankfully quietly.

That gives him pause.

He locks the door, draws the curtains. The barrier, protecting from eavesdroppers, pushes out towards the walls, and only then he allows himself to let Adrian’s face bleed onto his.

“Come again?”

“That… clerk at old hag’s law firm. He found the lab.”

“I thought you said you’ve dealt with it,” he remarks, and her mouth twitches.

“He kept digging even after being told to drop it. I don’t know – he’s young and… upright, I guess.”

“How remarkable.”

He can tell she’s getting frustrated that he doesn’t seem to be sharing her urgency, but in truth, he has no reason to be worried. The only thing connecting him to the lab is Margaret herself. The boy is her problem.

After all, Adrian knows nothing about alchemy, or the occult. He’s made sure those were other faces. Adrian is barely anybody, too busy mourning his parents untimely deaths.

“Look, lend me someone for a few nights, I’ll get rid of him. I’m sure he hasn’t told anyone, it’ll be fine, I just need some extra support – he’s on his guard now, and I heard he’s s decent fencer.”

She’s running her fingers along the seam of her skirt, too nervous for the kinds of things she’s saying.

“What are you not telling me?” he asks, and she shudders under his gaze before straightening out.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll fix it,” she insists, but she’s not a good enough liar, and he knows her too well.

“What are you not telling me?” he asks once more. With someone else, he might have made effort to put in some emphasis.

With her, just the repetition is enough.

Still, she hesitates.

“He has the book,” she says quietly, as if hoping he wouldn’t hear.

It’s not fatal, of course. He has contingencies – he’s seen the full description; worst case scenario, he will force himself into remembering. But the enormity of her blunder is…

He looks at Margaret again. He’s long since thought of her as just Margaret at this point, but perhaps there was some lingering affection in the way he’s let her stay even as she grew sloppier in her work, as his own strength soared far beyond needing her.

That boy though…

Strong, righteous, persistent. Adrian’s thoughts go back to the dark throne hidden underground, to the kind of blood it thirsts after.

“Don’t kill him, bring him to me,” he orders her, and her too-expressive face turns angry.

“He’s not some nobody that won’t be missed!” she hisses. “Why?”

He ignores her question and repeats, “Don’t kill him. Figure something out, fake his death – I don’t care, just get it done. And move the lab. The warehouse is empty for now, use that.”

She wants to argue, and he again conjures Thobias’s red hair and five-o-clock shadow to let her know the conversation is over.

Last chance for her to do better.

After all, he’s running out of other blood relatives to offer to the hellfire.

---

It might look like I'm behind, but technically I have 6 pieces written as of today, I just ended up writing tomorrow's one instead of today's. It... makes sense with the in-universe timeline. Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to post both...

And for now, more Adrian and Margaret (or: how this nephew-aunt relationship ends): Awakening, Tools Discarded and Broken

[ask-theredcrown]

*The daily note.... It's late today. Is that a bad thing? The note itself is fine, as always... It's still impossible to tell where these are coming from. Maybe this person is above you? Maybe they're... Using some sort of magic? Maybe it's best not to ask... It's fine though, atleast you have someone to... Relate too... Probably... "Before I was sent here" was on the last note. Maybe you could ask about that again... Though, like you said. You can't find him in your realm. All of this is just a big mess of confusion, really. Anyways, I'll stop talking. The note is what you're after. I'm just a narrator after all.*

*We always have tomorrow anyways... Now... The note.*

"Heeyyyy, Nari, my friend! Hope you're still doing good while I'm writing this.

I'm doing alright, I'm growing in power by the day. I might be able to send another note to you too, so we can have a bit longer of a conversation... If thats what we call this. You know the drill by now, incase you forgot, just talk. I can hear you just fine through this paper. Magic is weird, isn't it?

Escaping is going to be easier too, if I just keep waiting, keep gaining power, this all of this would be better.

Anyways, back to you. I've been listening to you conversate with those... Shadow's. "Anons" I believe they're called. Telling you something about a Kallamar? And you spoke of them being your sibling? I'm guessing they're somewhat protective of you. Do they think you're dead, too? Reminds me of Him. Your siblings do atleast.

I saw that Lamb you speak of. He seems cute. Or she? I could not tell from here. Enlighten me will you? Despite this, I like them. They could be useful to me... Possibly. Worry not, I dont need a vessel. You wouldn't understand."

*The page has to be flipped.*

"Today I'll be able to send you another note. So ask me a question, I need something to talk about. It's restoring my sanity... Ha. Ironic.

Oh and before I forget, maybe get that Lamb to get one of his followers, or I guess they're your followers too but whatever. Get them to find a cemetery in darkwood. Let them embrace the warmth and their new h o m e . I need their bodies for their energy, and power...

Anyways, like I said. Ask me something if you wish, and get that Lamb to send someone out. I need power too, you can't hog it all."

*The signature is the same. Just a dash, and a small drawing of a tombstone. This time, with a crown drawing next to it. It's similar to the crown on Lambs head, just the eye is dark grey...*

@tomb-the-god

"As always, I am doing perfectly fine. A relapse here and there, but nothing much for someone who has been doing this for millenia."

"I assume we can call this a conversation, just not a conventional one. I am glad to hear that you are good, and growing in power. That is a mutual goal of ours, if I am allowed to say that."

"Shadows, souls, whatever you wish to call them, they talk to me, and sometimes, I talk to them too. At first I believed that they were pigments of my imagination only, and thaat I was finally coming to madness. But apparently not, they are real and each one has their own conscience. Sometimes they can be a little too... Weird. But I have become used to them now."

Narinder finishes reading the letter, putting it down and closing his eyes.

"Kallamar, yes.. He is my brother, one of the nasty bugs that put me in this place... He knows I am alive, hoping and praying every day that I don't wake up again in the same realm as him... As for the Lamb, my vessel, they are not a man, nor a woman, but I will ask you take your eyes off of them, I will not permit distractions upon them."

"A question? Hm, I suppose I have one, yes. I still do not understand your situation. Dead? Alive? Do you even know where you are? Are you able to see, even?"

[pbandjesse]

I had a shockingly long and busy day. I was not expecting that. But I ended up teaching essentially two workshops between camp and creative alliance. But now that's its done I actually feel great mentally. Physically I'm very excited that I don't have to leave the house tomorrow.

I slept fine. But I did not want to get up. And since I knew I didn't have my first workshop until 1230 I knew I could get away with sleeping a little late. I set my alarm for an extra hour. James came in to give me a kiss and say goodbye but they said something about boxes and I was half asleep and couldn't figure out what they meant so then my brain wouldn't turn back off and I didn't end up falling back asleep.

So I just stayed in bed an extra half hour before getting up. I got dressed and had cereal. My hair is driving my a little crazy. It looks so nice when I first wake up but then just looks crazy throughout the day. I also think the top layer is breaking which is frustrating because I don't really know how to fix that. I may start wearing braids more especially since it's getting so long. I don't actually want to cut it shoulder length again right now but we will see if I stick to that.

I left here and got to camp around 830. I went straight to art to load up my wagon with all my painting supplies. But I was not feeling good. I think I've figured out that if I'm standing or laying the nausea is not terrible. But sitting down kills me. But then I am tired from standing and want to sit. It's a lose lose.

Once I was ready to go I would set up my hammock and just chill in it for an hour. My car blanket was still in the laundry so I wasn't as cozy as I wanted but it was nice to just lay there. I really need to figure out how I can hang a hammock at our house. There isn't an amazing space for it. But I think it would really make me feel better to have that somewhere. I'll investigate that soon.

Around 930 I went down to the office. It was a pretty quiet morning. I would find some step by step guides for drawing turtles and snakes and salamanders. I thought that this would be the most helpful for having the adults paint. It's like hey maybe you don't have an idea but you could follow this or you can do whatever you want I'm not your mom. And I thought that since those were the animals they got to meet yesterday they would enjoy them.

And I was very right! But that wouldn't be for hours.

In the mean time I would play around online. Sent some emails. Watched TikToks. I would have my lunch at 11 even though I wasn't actually hungry. It was just soup and it was really nice.

Heather had me scan some stuff for the land trust and construction projects. I was eavesdropping on their meeting a little. Not on purpose but the walls are pretty thin. It seems like there is issue moving forward with the rising ring because of the new building in the woodlands village. I don't 100% understand why but it sucks and I hope the are able to solve it.

Finally though I could head over to the lodge. The ground was really really muddy so getting my wagon over there was precarious. But I made it. And when I did get over there the group also asked me to bring a mop over to one of the cabins and to help turn on the heat. Can do!

So I helped with those tasks first before I set up a table for my painting materials. And then I would draw out a tortoise for me to paint. I like to teach by example. And in this case (and many cases) my example is just working along side them.

And this worked out well. They are adults and there were 3 other stations they could chose. Horsemanship, Zipline, and bb guns. I would end up with 4 people over the two hours but honestly it was so nice. Everyone was just doing their own thing. Sometimes coming over for advice. I would go around and encourage and point out things I thought was nice about their techniques. The one guy had brought his own canvases so his was much larger then everyone else. But it was honestly just such a lovely afternoon. I painted my tortoise. I chatted. I laughed with them when the staff was singing and being so silly. It was a good day. Even if it was shockingly gross outside.

Which made getting my wagon back to art horrible. Getting it through the mud and then up the hill was not fun at all. But thankfully I did not fall and the wagon didn't tip over. It just made me a bit exhausted.

So after I put everything away I had to take a half hour to sit at the office. Joe let me know they a neighbor is going to adopt Bobbi cat. I'm so thrilled. They deserve a good home. I hope they are gentle with them.

When I got back to the office after talking to Joe about the cat, Sarah gave me a really nice pumpkin muffin. Which was so kind of her. I would sit at my desk and enjoy that. Talked to Alexi and Heather about my pregnancy symptoms. And after checking in about next week's field trip I would head out.

I decided I wanted Burger King. I just thought that a veggie burger would be nice. And I was mostly right. It was a weirdly long wait at the drive through when they didn't seem to have any other customers. But it was fine.

I ate in the empty parking lot. And while the food was very good I would feel a lot of stomach pain half way through and I was sure I was going to throw up. I would breathe through it and be okay but it was upsetting that that keeps happening. I should be able toe at a single burger without getting so sick!!

But I had a plan. I needed to get home by 4 so I could sleep for a little before my workshop. I needed to do that to make it through. I was very anxious about the workshop. Like I always am. So sleep was important.

And I would sleep. I got home and changed into a sweatshirt and laid down and was out pretty quick. And it was a good little power nap. I woke up at 5 and James was home. I wasn't feeling amazing but I had to shake that off.

I got redressed. And spent a little time cutting out canvas because I realized I didn't have a great plan for how they were going to practice stitching. I would lay on the couch for a few minutes with James talking about our days. But then I had to go.

I would honestly feel a lot better by the time I got there. Still nervous but some teens would let me in the building and I would go set up. We were doing the workshop in the kitchen because the dance class was stomping so loudly again. And it was still loud in the kitchen but not as bad. I got all set up and waited for people to come in. We did t have a desk person tonight so it was a little tough getting people in the building but we managed and all 8 showed up which was awesome.

And these guys were new new new to sewing. So we absolutely started with the basics. Here are all the materials. What types of fabrics. How to use different materials for different applications. And I'm so glad I brought the canvases. I drew on each one so they could follow guides for the 5 stitches we learned. And we would talk about how each one can be used, both for making it for mending. And it was just a really awesome evening.

We had a lot of laughing and chatting. I worked on my own sampler so they could see what they needed to do. The hardest part for them was tying the knot at the end of a row but I think they the end they understood my trick or just tied it like a shoelace. Either way was fine with me. I was being as encouraging as possible and problem solving. We talked about how to see a button. How to find the needle through the back of the fabric. A running stitch, little x's, a back stitch, a whip stitch, and a blanket stitch. And once we got to the blanket stitch I had them cut out little felt pieces to make a pin. Which was very cute and they all did so good. I was super proud of them.

Slowly people started leaving. To go to dinner or trivia. The last two ladies were chatting with me and helping me pack up. And then it was goodbye and see you next time.

I have two more workshops on the calendar. I didn't realize that the class catalog had my workshops on the first page! And my face/part of my face with a project on the 4th page. It was really cool to see. Made me feel really excited.

I carried my basket of materials to the car. And headed home. I was excited to see James at their desk when I walked it. It's the best part of them moving their office to share my studio. They are usually right there and it makes me happy.

We would sit on the floor and talk. Played with sweetp. Mostly just poked and pet him. But eventually we came upstairs. James went to shower and I worked on this.

But it is time for me to wind down now. Tomorrow I am hoping to have a productive morning at home. I want to move out cleaning products to the basement. And do some organizing in the bathroom. And then in the afternoon we are getting out new backdoor and I'm so excited to get a door with a window. Game changer for sure.

I hope that it all goes smoothly. And that I don't feel so sick. Fingers crossed.

Goodnight everyone. Sleep well. Until tomorrow.

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 1.30.2024

Good news! I have finished Chapter 7, including the parts of Chapter 7 that is now in Chapter 8. I mentioned last week that Chapter 7 was running really long with 3 scenes left to go, and I wasn't sure if I was just going to let it get really, really long, or if I was going to shunt those scenes into Chapter 8. In the end, I did both--I moved the longest of the three scenes to Ch 8, and kept the other two in Chapter 7. I had it in my mind that this would ruin the pacing, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed Fine, Actually, and I think it is.

Finishing "all the stuff allotted for Chapter 7" was kind of a big milestone for me, so I celebrated by...editing Chapters 5 and 6 and sending them to my beta. The editing was a bit of a bigger project than I expected--I had run into a couple of places where I wrote things out of order, and I ended up with "well, does this character know about X or not?" problems that I had to resolve. Anyway, I got a very positive review, so that's exciting!

What's next? Well, the second scene of Chapter 8 was already written, although it had more integration problems, so I cleaned those up and got it into place. That puts Chapter 8 at about 5k words right now (I'm always aiming for 8-9). I've got one more, fairly hefty scene on the outline, so that should fit just about right.

My plan was to try and finish Chapter 8 and then skip ahead and try to write the end. Usually, for fanfics like this, I have a very clear end in mind, and I honestly did not for this one. A while ago, I sat down and came up with one, but I'm not all that sure if it's gonna take up a whole chapter, or if I'm gonna have to pad it a little. I figure that once I have the end in place, it will be easier to fill in the canyon between what I've got and where I've got to go. Right now, the outline gives me one chapter to do that. I feel in my heart like it's more realistically two. I am not excluding the possibility I might get carried away and need three (geez I hope not tho). I've had a little trouble getting started on that last scene of Ch 8 tho-- I'm gonna give it another day or two, and if I can't get some juice on it, I might just skip ahead to the end and come back to it later.

Word count: Part B is now 34,983, for a total of 71,862 (+7265 from last week, although about half of that was already written, so let's call it a 3600 word week).

I also spent a lot of this week drawing. It's a Kuchiki sibs piece for both their birthdays. It was very hard and I won't say I'm happy with it, but I fanart-failed the last two things I tried to do, so I'm just pushing forward. I want to have something to show for January. I've finished up the linework and the flat colors, but it still needs shading and I need to half-ass a background of some sort. I hope I'll be able to do all that in time to post it tomorrow. This is also the phase of the project where it looks the least good, and the part that comes next is where it rapidly starts to look a lot better. I also need to do A Special Effect, and I think I'm going to have to look up a tutorial, because my usual brush-mashing was not turning out to be fruitful. We'll just have to see, I guess.

[excelsi-or]

summoned (pt. 15)

one more part after this, my friends! they're both going up simultaneously :) i'll have more to say at the end of the next one. love you all! hope the holidays are treating you well, and if they aren't, then i hope the day is okay today and you get to be cozy, and i hope tomorrow is better.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader/fem!OC

w.c. 1.7k

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

When they arrive at the right nuclear plant, the sky is now burning red. Halfway through the drive, Jihoon had started screaming, which had just put her nerves on end. Both her parents had messaged asking her where she was. She hadn’t responded to their questions, just told them she loved them and she’d be home soon.

It seems the alarms have not stopped blaring since they started. From the front gate, they can hear the piercing sound. A guard is lying on the ground outside the security box, rolled on his side with Hansol’s sweater over him.

“The angel must have put him to sleep,” Jihoon yells as they drive past.

They skid to a halt in front of the nuclear plant. Seokmin runs at them from the side of the building. Jihoon continues screaming, as he kneels next to the car. The fire won’t go out, and she can hear the metal groaning, about to break. She grabs Jihoon’s hand and yanks him away from the pending metal fireball.

“What’s wrong with him? What happened to you? Are you on fire?” Seokmin pats her shoulder to put out a small flame she’d caught when she got out of the car.

She glances at her shoulder where there is now a scorch mark in her dress sleeve. “That makes me look more like the Antichrist, no?”

At the mention of the Antichrist, the door to the nuclear plant bursts open.

A figure clad in black with a scythe slung along its back leads the way. Its hood is up, so no one can see its face. Three other figures follow close behind.

Famine and War saunter close behind Death. A smaller character, one she doesn’t recognize, glides behind them.

“Is that an oil slick?” she whispers.

“Say hello to ‘Pollution’,” Seokmin informs her.

She tips her head. “Fitting.”

“The Antichrist has arrived.” The way Death says it makes it sound as if she should be greeted with arms wide open. But from Death, she’s happy with the slow walk towards her.

Jihoon stands just behind her and watches her entire body seize at Death’s proclamation. Seokmin must notice it too, because he looks as if he’s going to move towards her.

But Death isn’t doing anything, and right now, she’s probably at her most powerful. The wind picks up around them as the Four Horsemen draw nearer.

Jihoon feels the air being sucked out from around him, and he inhales a deep breath.

And then the wind slows.

“What’s happening?” Seokmin asks.

The Antichrist answers his question with a question. “What do I do?”

“Is this you?” Jihoon peers closely at a fly moving slowly past his face. He nudges it up slightly.

“This really cannot be the only way, can it?”

“You’ve literally slowed time down at will,” Seokmin states. He swats at Jihoon to pay attention and stop poking all the bugs.

Jihoon obediently moves to her side and interlaces his fingers with hers. “This is the most powerful you’ve ever been. If you decide to go through with the end of the world, you can be even more so.”

“Jihoon,” Seokmin hisses.

“But you never seemed to want power.” Jihoon presses his lips to her knuckles. “So, just like you did with the car and the fire bridge, you should be able to do the same thing.”

“Not die?” she asks.

Jihoon chuckles. “But I likely won’t be able to touch you again.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Meets one human he likes and suddenly can’t keep it in his pants even when the world’s ending.” Despite hissing under his breath, both the demon and Antichrist hear him.

“Shame,” she chuckles. She squeezes Jihoon’s hand, her eyes still on Death’s even slower approach. “You are good at it.”

“Well, there will be other humans.” 

She hums, glancing at him. “Maybe.”

Jihoon grins, his eyes flickering cat-like before reverting to normal. “You get to decide what happens today.”

“Just please don’t let us die,” Seokmin huffs. He steps up and reaches for her hand. He winces only slightly. “We can’t help you if you kill us. But we support whatever decision you make.”

This gets her to look away from Death, time returning to normal. The angel and demon step back again. The rumbling of the earth is now apparent in real time.

“Your father… is… coming,” Death drawls, turning slightly.

She catches sight of a face beneath the hood, but not enough to make out what exactly the face is.

“My father is coming?” the Antichrist repeats, suddenly hearing the words properly.

She hears a name being called. In a voice she doesn’t recognize.

It is not her name, and she tilts her head, noticing the gleeful expressions on the faces of the Horsemen she can see. The name speaks to her, but it is not hers.

And she wonders what Death meant when it said that her father was coming. Her mind flicks to her literal angel of a father, wondering why he would come here of all places. Her father’s such a homebody. It’s a struggle just to convince him to come to the beach.

And then it’s her name.

In a voice she does recognize.

Her father appears around the side of the building as if by magic, his wings disappearing into his clothes (because the angels decided taking away his soul was fair, but his wings he could keep), his feet barely touching the ground as he hurries towards her. He hardly glances at the Four Horsemen who, besides Death, look completely baffled.

“I told your mother you were doing something nefarious.”

She turns at the sound of wings flapping behind her. Her mother drops down next to her. “And I told you she’d be here.”

Her father tuts. “But you didn’t tell us you were going to be here.”

“She has her own angel and demon, Tin.” Xero glances over her shoulder at Jihoon. She even honours Seokmin with a split-second glance. “We’re the ones who birthed the Antichrist. It’s not as if we were going to be the ones to guide her.”

“Were you on fire?” Her father brushes the burn mark on the shoulder of her dress. “And you wore a dress to the final days of—”

A loud boom gets all the beings’ attention. If this situation were a cartoon, the roof of the nuclear building would have jumped up. 

Her eyes widen, and she turns to Seokmin.

Seokmin rushes towards the building, but before he can burst through the doors, Hansol stumbles outside. He winces at the red light of the sky, coughing at the dust, his face covered in soot.

“Has the world ended?” Hansol asks. Then he takes stock of the four Horsemen and her mother, who has yet to retract her wings. 

“This can’t be happening,” Pollution hisses.

“The world ending?” Hansol catches her gaze across the bodies between them.

She shrugs. She’s sort of unsure of what’s happening.

“It seems,” Death begins, turning towards her, “that this isn’t the Antichrist we were waiting for.”

“Her father’s an angel,” War growls. His eyes flame red, eyeing the angel in question. “I thought the Antichrist was brought to earth by Satan.”

Tin rounds on Xero, giving her a once over with narrowed eyes.

“Tin, she’s ours,” Xero insists.

“Then why was Satan here before me?”

“So, he did come,” the Antichrist muses. All the beings, including Hansol, can sense her presence easing back. “Don’t worry, Dad. You’re my dad regardless if Satan brought me here or not.”

“I wanted to play,” Famine whines. “This isn’t fun.”

Death holds up its scythe, stopping the three other Horsemen from attacking. If she could see Death’s eyes, she thinks Death would be sizing them all up. “I do not think we could win a battle today.”

Famine scowls, reaching for Hansol who is about to eat a Twix bar. She’d given everyone snacks before they’d left her place, because it was unlikely they would get to have a proper meal. Hansol holds out the bar towards Famine. “You can have it if you want. I don’t need this one. I still have snacks in the car.”

That makes her laugh, surprising the angels and demons. “Sol, that’s not—”

“Oh, sorry.” Hansol puts the Twix in Famine’s hand. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way or anything. Just have extra—Oop. Where did they go?”

Hansol bends over to pick up the Twix, now just a wrapper, from the ground. “And they littered too?” He shakes his head in dismay. When he straightens, Pollution had disappeared too. Only an oil puddle in her midst.

Hansol frowns. “You know,” he saunters through the crowd (of now just 2 Horsemen) to her side, “I really hate when you magical beings do that kinda stuff without warning me.”

Her insides are glowing at watching Hansol’s humanity ward off the Horsemen one by one, seemingly without knowing it. “Sorry, Sollie. I can at least promise I won’t do it anymore.”

Seokmin holds a hand out for a high five. “I can promise you that too.”

“Thank you.” Before Hansol’s even clapped Seokmin’s outstretched hand, War is gone too.

Not without a battle cry and a clatter of his sword.

Seokmin clasps Hansol’s hand and eases him behind them, as he and Jihoon step before the Antichrist, her parents just behind them.

Death looks over this spectacle, its gaze lingering on the human who willed his 3 companions out of existence (for now). "There will come a time for the Antichrist. Until then." With a small bow of its head, Death disappears in pillar of smoke.

Seokmin turns on his heel towards the group. “Now, that was not how I expected it to end.”

“What did you do inside, Sollie?” she asks, grabbing his hand and dragging him after her to the car.

“Unplugged one of the computers.”

“What was the boom?”

“I kicked over some other ones and a fire started inside.”

She blinks. “Nope.”

“I’m covered in soot.”

“No fire. Look.”

As the two friends bicker over the existence of the fire or not, Jihoon places a foot on the clattering sword of War before he picks it up and rests it on his shoulder.

“What do we do now?” Seokmin asks.

Jihoon catches her eye. “We go home. Our part of this is over.”

epilogue: part 16

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

For the character asks: 2, 3, and 20 for Remus?

Thanks for the ask @pocket-lilacs!

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Despite his many flaws, what draws me to Remus is his ability to hope. He's not a cheerful man, he's not the cleverest man, he's not cool, he's got all these things working against him - but he keeps going. Not only does he keep going, but he keeps going in a way that hopes for a brighter future for others. He's brave for others, he can be courageous, he can be daring, and he can be largely loyal. But I do think that what drives him is hope for a better tomorrow, and even if he messes it up consistently for himself, he latches onto those who give him hope.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

That's a hard one! All of his canon flaws are reasons why I love Remus. He's so complex. I'll go with him going to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts. It's obviously in-character for him to be courageous and fight for Teddy and Tonks, but I really wish he'd just done a cowardly move and stayed home so he could live!!

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

Other than Tonks, James! I will defend Tonks as Remus's BFF and wife, forever, because Tonks, while coming from a place of privilege in many ways, wasn't as privileged as James. James was generous with Remus, but I think that Tonks could be more sympathetic to Remus's social standing, in a way that James might not have been able to. That being said, if everyone had lived/nobody died, then I would have James be Remus's BFF until Tonks comes around.

(in fact I am writing an everyone lives/nobody dies AU and if I ever finish it or get around to posting it, it's going to be fun!)

Character Ask Game

[dustofthedailylife]

🎤 *tap tap* Hello? Is this thing on? I AM BACK!!

Just came home from my last exam!! Remind me to never do this again. 6 each 5 hours long exams in the span of 1 1/2 weeks for the second time in six months. All because I hope to get a better grade this time. Fingers crossed it works and wasn't for naught!

I'll tidy up at home now before I start prepping my 2k follower event. Hopefully should be able to post it tomorrow. I can also finally write and draw and play Genshin again, guys. I'm so happy and in desperate need of some recharging. 😭

I missed you all. Hope you've been well! 💕

[deepautumncolors]

Boundaries

I think I'm finally getting better at saying no, which has taken me a very long time to learn how to do. It has always been a challenge for me.

I've known my dad's friend since I was born, and he's had three cats since 2014. I go over to his house to feed them and clean the litter boxes whenever he goes out of town... until now. When he asked me if I could do that from the 24th-28th, I decided it was time for me to retire from taking care of his cats. I took this whole week off from work and I haven’t had a week off since this same time last year, so I was really looking forward to my vacation. And I just didn't want to spend it worrying about his cats and driving to his house almost every day (two of the days being Christmas Eve and Christmas Day). I don't live right in the city anymore like I used to, and I don't need the extra cash anymore like I used to. I would have been driving into town once a day just for that. Not to mention, his house is very small and cramped as it is, plus he happens to be a pack rat - so there is stuff EVERYWHERE and there's not a lot of room to move around. I also have my own cats to take care of now. Things are just different than they used to be.

And so, I said no. Well actually, I said, "I'm sorry, next week doesn't work for me. I hope you can find someone." I didn't lie, I didn't make up an excuse or give a reason, I just told the truth and wished him well. I felt bad, but I just really didn't want to do it. So I didn't. I don't know who else he ended up asking, but I hope everything worked out (and that he asks that person again next time).

The other thing is that my coworkers in my department like to play the lottery, so we take turns buying tickets for the whole group. There are 14 of us, so someone gets $14 of quick picks when the jackpot gets really big. We don't have an official order that people go in, it's more like whoever hasn't gone in a while does it if they can. I can't remember the last time I bought them, so I figured my turn was coming up soon. Today they asked me if I could get them for tomorrow's drawing, but I don't live right in the city like I mentioned before and I didn't have any plans to go out. So I replied, "Can I do it next time? I'm staying home all day today." If they had asked me yesterday, I would have grabbed them when I went out to do other things. Sorry people, I'm not leaving the house for no other reason besides that when odds are we're just going to lose anyway. I've always done it the other times they asked me to and I've always been agreeable to everything they've asked of me, so I think I'm allowed to skip it just this once.

I don't know if I'm actually getting more assertive or if I just don't feel like doing certain things anymore because I'm getting older or if it's a combination of both, but I'm proud of myself for knowing my boundaries and being able to say no. If you don't, people will walk all over you. You might disappoint or inconvenience the other person/people for a while, but they'll get over it. Sometimes it's okay to be selfish when it comes to your mental health. I'm glad I'm ending 2023 on this note of asking for what I want, and I hope I'll still be able to do that when it's necessary throughout 2024!