#i'm actually going to get a print of this when i get paid

[maimaiapologist]

sorry for the reaction pic spam but these sum up my reaction way more than words could but ANYWAYS: thank you sosososo much for this!!! everything about it is AMAZING and i love their outfits and the way they're looking at each other and the pose and all of the little details (sal's tattoos! the dress! yori's hand on her waist! AUGHHH). i've been having a rough week because of work so coming back and seeing this cheered me up so so much. thanks for such a thoughtful gift!!

I took part in the @cp77nyexchange this year and got to work on a gift for @maimaiapologist :D Here's Sal and Yorinobu at a fancy corpo party (but probably they're both undercover and scheming their next moves 👀). Hope you like it!!

Happy new year, and thanks for the organisation of the exchange! 😁

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[thebibliosphere]

I both believe "poor people deserve art" and "artists deserve food", but it's hard to reconcile those beliefs. I blame capitalism. And I suppose it mostly matters who you're stealing from?

I don't mean to question you at all, I'm against people pirating your stories. I guess I was just wondering if you had more thoughts regarding the reconciliation the two beliefs I quoted above.

I think the reconciliation is working toward a future where things are better, and authors and artists don't have to beg people not to steal from them because they think every author is Stephen King, who wouldn't notice if you stole the pennies found under his couch when in reality most of us are hunting for spare change down the back of the couch because we are earning below minimum wage.

We need people to embrace the idea that art belongs to the working class, both in terms of consumption but also creation.

If you don't support the working-class creators, you'll only end up with rich fucks with no scope of the world beyond their own narrow view of privilege.

Indie creators are actually working very hard to change the way the industry works, and the publishing industry is shitting itself over it. They don't like the success some of us are having. It's why they keep upping prices while slashing corners on their own production (while never affecting the man at the top) to try and stay competitive within the rat race they've created.

They're not interested in the proliferation of art. They're not interested in making sure their authors can afford to live. They don't want more diversity. They don't want inclusion. They want profit at whatever the cost.

And while indie creators very much need to get paid because we live in a capitalistic society and everything is burning down around us, and a carton of eggs now costs more than what I earn per hour, our creativity is directly at odds with the type of profiteering big publishers want.

The money should go to the writers. Not the CEOs. The money should go to the workers in the print houses. Not the CEOs. No one needs the kind of wealth these people have. It's obscene. We need direct action against these conglomerates. We need unionization. We need a means to fight back so that we can make art and make it accessible.

So, how do we do that? I don't know. I'm just a very tired, disabled creator doing my best to keep my head above water. But I think getting people to realize that art and books are worth saving up for would be a good start.

That putting money in the pockets of creators is just as important as your own enjoyment of their art. Because if there aren't any artists, you've got nothing.

Getting them involved with their local libraries would also be a great start. Educating them on how the industry works is part of that. The number of people telling me they had no idea libraries paid authors is staggering. And that's intentional. It's a by-product of right-wing propaganda to make you think libraries are worthless and just sap taxpayers' money.

They're not.

If they were, the fash wouldn't be trying so hard to take them away.

Basically, we need working-class solidarity and for certain people on the left to rid themselves of the idea that just because something isn't borne of manual labor, it doesn't have worth. We need the artists and the dreamers as much as we need to bricklayers and the craftsmen. Otherwise, what's the fucking point of it all?

[earlycuntsets]

11/23/2004 gerard's interview from coffee with cojo on artsucks.com

"It's really cool when people you know, and knew from obscurity become famous in a field you would have never guessed that they were even involved in.

Here is some back story. . .My freshman year of college (SVA) I became fast friends with this kid named Gerard Way. It was our "foundation year" where they lump students into "general blocks" of courses, reguardless of major. The people you are grouped with, you are stuck with, because they will be in about seventy percent of your classes your foundation year. Being that Gerard was a cartooning and illustration major with a line-art-cartoonish-comic-book style, and I had been working at Marvel Comics for the past two years; we had a lot in common. He was actually a really good cartoonist (One of the top in our class).

Well, Gerard was best friends with this guy Todd. Todd was a funny guy, but I didn't really hang around with him. I was a DJ for our school's radio station (WSVA) at the time and I was dating this girl Cheryl.

A few months later I broke it off with Cheryl. . .Time passed and somewhere along the line (I can't remember how long exactly) Todd started seeing Cheryl. Of course that's when Todd would want nothing to do with me (being that he was with Cheryl now), and it's also where I lost touch with Gerard (Naturally, he being Todd's best friend and all).

Well, I would run into Gerard in school over the years from time to time, and I remember seeing one of his cartoons printed in "THE BIG BOOK OF THE WEIRD WILD WEST" which was part of one of my favorite graphic novel series' (THE BIG BOOK OF).

Then in 2003 sometime I ran into Gerard walking down Third Avenue right off of St. Marks Place. I hadn't seen him in like seven years and his name slipped my mind, but I was sure it was him.

I followed him, he was going pretty fast "MARK!" I yelled to him, and he turned around. He looked at me with the expression of searching one's memory to place a face.

"Cojo?" He said, then corrected me "It's Gerard by the way, where did you get Mark from?"

"I don't know, maybe St. Marks? I was just drawing a blank on your name, I'm sorry, but I knew it was you and I had to stop you, how ya been man?" I asked.

I rarely run into old classmates so I offered to buy him a cup of coffee. We were right in Cooper's Square so we hit a Starbucks (If you've never been in Cooper's Square, you will be amused to learn that there are three Starbucks Coffee shops within sight of one another. . .it's really freakish).

I paid for his coffee and we shot the shit. He blew my mind telling me that he's the lead singer for a band called "MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE" and that they just got back from touring Europe. What the fuck? A far cry from cartooning.

I told him about all the weird work I've been doing. It's so rare that I actually run into someone from school who is successful and doing something they love. It was really refreshing. I took a few photos of him as we talked. I'm weird with documenting things- as if you haven't noticed.

We left Starbucks and kept shooting the shit. Having nothing to do he decided to join me for the rest of the afternoon. We walked over to the Virgin Megastore on 14th and he pointed out the magazines his band had been spotlighted in and what music he's into and what not.

It was funny cause he's like: "We're in Alternative Press all the time" and I was like, "Hey, I worked for A.P., I did stuff for the Warped Tour a few years back and actually visited their office in Cleveland!" (-author's note: you will read about this Cleveland trip in the past updates after the site hard launches in Feb-). It was cool cause we knew the same peeps.

I showed him the magazines I was in, and turned to the pages to show him the artwork. One neat thing about being in magazines is that you have a mini portfolio of your work at any magazine shop you walk into in the country.

Well, he invited me to see his band perform at THE KNITTING FACTORY the next week. I told him I would try to make it, but I was really slammed with work so I probably wouldn't be able to make this one, but I'd really like to do an interview with him or him and the band sometime where I could record our conversation.

Like just hang out and shoot the shit with them (cause he's just a down to earth Jersey born kid like myself) and pitch it to magazines afterwords, accompanied by a portrait I would do of their members. He was like: "Man, I wish you had a tape recorder on you now, the stuff I've been saying is good shit, totally printable shit!" And he was right, I really was digging at him about what happend that got him to make the transition from art into music and was getting the "real" answers, not the way a rockstar talks to a reporter, but the way an old bud you goofed off with in drawing class and you haven't seen in years talks to you.

I told him I'd look out for his band in the mags and if I saw something or could help em' out I'd spotlight it or give him a buzz. He thanked me for payin' for the Starbucks and then I caught a train uptown.

Well, September Maxim's Blender did a whole page on MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE, showcasing them as the next big thing. Then last week I was out with my girl and we walked by a magazine rack, and on the cover of AP (Alternative Press) was Gerard and his band in some serious Rigamortis style dead make-up.

"No SHIT!" I exclaimed, and picked it up. I explained to Tracy (my girlfriend) the story of how I knew this guy. That night I was flipping through the channels and I came upon MTV and what the fuck, there was a MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE video! Same day as I saw the cover! The song was catchy as hell. I couldn't believe it. I was like: "No crap. . . they are gonna be huge!" Just after their song, a yellow card video started. I guess that's their genre. I asked Ink's brother (17 year old semi-pro skateboarder) Mikey if he knew of My Chemical Romance. He told me he's a fan, has their albums. I asked Jain, and she was like, "Um yeah, they are actually a really popular band! They've been out for a while."

So I guess this update is long overdue, and so is a congrats to Gerard. Keep kickin' ass man! Next time you are back in town, give me a buzz.

Just another day in the life of an Art Juggernaut.

-Cojo"

[kremlin]

"This event ends the moment you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you're a dead motherfucker" -- Big Bill Hell

There was a time when you'd see little old ladies paying for the groceries with a hand-written personal check, holding up the line, causing an immediately-forgiven slight sense of annoyance with those behind her. Buddy. Those days are over. They've been over. What, did you think you were going to just pop a couple extra zeroes on the end of your paycheck there? Maybe scan your paycheck, open it in photoshop, make a template, print em out all nice? You think you're the first to think of that, dipshit?

It takes the law a long time to catch up with the state of the art. You're reading this on the internet, which means you never use checks. The law has caught up. Your ass will be going to prison immediately and you will see zero return.

You can't even kite checks anymore, and hell, nobody under 40 will even know what that means, due to the blazing fast, two day settlement on all ACH transactions. Let me paint you a picture.

You get paid on Friday, but it is Monday, and bills are due on Tuesday. And you're broke: $0 in the bank. Goose egg. Pop open your checkbook, go to a store, "buy" some things, write a check for the amount. The cashier takes it!

Now take those things you "bought", across town, to another store location, and return them for cold hard cash. Sweet. Bills paid. Friday rolls around, and you just make it to the bank to deposit your paycheck before it closes. After the weekend, the checks you wrote finally post, and they don't bounce! You've kited a check. You've surreptitiously taken a zero-interest loan. And we know your broke ass. The interest rate on that short-term payday loan should have been straight up usurious. We're talking 29%. That makes predatory fuckers like us horny for sex. We're so mad. Now you are going to Federal Prison. For a good minute. Fuckface.

COST: $0.10 (With banks offering free checking accounts + Bic pen)

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor sleet, if you fuck with the mail, we'll rip your nuts off" -- Ronald Mail (Inventor of Mail)

Many people have this misnomer that the most powerful people in politics are democratically elected. The president, of the United States, of America, is a stupid cartoon hotdog. All of them, I don't care. Way less clout than you'd think. Brilliantly, it is the people that the hotdog president appoints who are actually doing anything significant. The director of the CIA. The fucking chairman of the Federal Reserve. Probably the, like, most senior, uh, general of the military, and shit too. I don't know, we don't "do" army here at Bloomberg. You probably don't even know their names! I don't! These are the ones you should be seeing in your sleep.

There's another position like that. Appointed directly by the hotdog. The Postmaster General. That's a real title. He's the CEO of the mail, and buddy, what he may lack in political power relative to the director of the CEO, he makes up in raw sexual energy. Total Tom Selleck energy. Like an airline pilot. We're talking Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm tentpoling in my black business slacks just writing this, and all my Bloomberg newsroom bros are peering over my shoulder and also tent-poling. We're not gay though, and especially me, I'm probably the least gay, but sometimes I just lay awake for hours at night what that mustache would feel like pressed against my lips, the unbelievable and utter, total sense of security I'd feel burying my head into his hard chest.

You get it. He's your dad. And if you fuck with the mail, you've fucked with the tools in your dad's garage. And dad's been drinking. You're in for it, bucko, you are in trouble. Do you think the United States Postal Service actually makes any money? Hell no. It costs like five bucks to mail a box basically anywhere I can think of and they give you the boxes for free. You can just walk in the post office and take them. I do that, and then just throw them away, I don't know why, some kind of compulsion. Being able to move shit around like this, quickly, cheaply -- Jesus H, I've got a huge amount of money in my bank account, probably tens of trillions of dollars (due to financial knowledge gained from reading Bloomberg articles) and I could probably mail every single person ever something and still come out in the black.

No way pal. They've thought of that already. The Postmaster General is going to know every time, and he's going to grab you by the shirt collar, wearing his cool as fuck hat, and you're going to get your pants pulled down, and your bare ass spanke...I need to go use the restroom real quick.

We rely on the mail system to get important shit done. It's not something to be taken lightly, and it isn't. Trust me. This is why, like almost every other person who receives mail in this year 2023, I just fucking put a wastebasket under my mail slot. I don't even shred that shit anymore. I just burn it. Takes less time.

COST: $0.63 (Postal stamp)

"Can call all you want, but there's no one home // And you're not gonna reach my telephone // Out in the club, and I'm sipping that bubb // And you're not gonna reach my telephone" -- Lady Gaga

I read something wild that the children of today do not know what a dial tone is, because of how fucked up and stupid they are. Isn't that super fucked up?

While it's not really our style, allow me to fill you in on some ancient, arcane knowledge about the telephone. You can turn it on, and then you can punch in numbers. Any numbers. Random ones, or maybe not random ones. If the ten numbers you punch in are the same as the numbers in someone else's telephone number, their phone will ring, and then you are talking to them. This is called "Phreaking".

Here's the kicker: You can tell that jackass anything you want. "Oh, Hi, Yes, I am Reginald Sumpter calling from Avalon Consulting LLC, we are just following up on the invoice we sent you. Please remit to ###### routing ###### account."

BOOM! Your name isn't Reginald whatever and that company doesn't exist, but you just received a deposit. It's fucking beautiful. What have you done wrong? It isn't your responsibility to handle who your business' clients/etc are, it's their's. If they want to just pay you money for no real reason, well, that's kind of on them, isn't it? I haven't stuck a pistol in your face and demanded everything in the register.

Well, it's too clever. It's too slick. This is the United States of America. It's one thing to commit a felony like armed robbery, it's another thing to piss off someone in charge of the accounting division who uses a special bathroom you need a key to get into.

You can do it on the computer too, I use a PC Computer at work and send email, so you can see how it'd work there. You can make a document that is indifferentiable from a real invoice and, straight up, 1/3 of the time they will pay that shit. Lmfao.

It's called wire fraud because, uhh, duhhhh, there's wires. What do you think that thing is strung between the telephone receiver and the dialer? And computers? Give me a break. There's so many wires with those.

COST: $0.25 (Coin for payphone)

"People calculate too much and think too little." -- Charlie Munger

It is insane how dumb the common man can be when it comes to our world of expertise. I hear this same sentiment, like, ALL THE TIME:

"Durr hurr I will buy an insurance policy for my car or house or whatever so that in case something happens to it I will get money". And then that same person proceeds to drive safely or not burn their house down. Dumbest crap imaginable.

Let me break it down for you. Insurance is a two player competitive game. There is a winner and there is a loser. Go take out an expensive insurance policy on your American sports car. Buy a neck brace, a football helmet, and pack that bitch with throw pillows. Then get in the left lane of a major highway at like noonish, let it rip and then SLAM on your brakes. Hit from behind! Your fault! Congratulations. You have won insurance. How this gets past people is beyond me.

You can only do this once or twice before the insurance companies catch on. Then they don't want to fuck with you. It is also..I don't know man...something feels off about taking a car or a house, which like, some guy had to build and just destroying it, but that is only a weird emotional thing, since you're making money, more than whatever the destroyed thing is worth, so in reality you've built that house plus some extra. You've contributed.

COST: $106.00 (Average monthly car insurance payment)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

SUBSCRIBE TO MY WHATEVER FOR PART TWO, COMING SOON. i'll post it later today probably. whatever time frame will juice the numbers. have a sneaky peaky

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[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Together or Separate

Eddie is pissed.

He knew the risks, he did, he didn't care. The rewards were worth it.

Getting to hold Steve's hand, getting to love him. Who cares if his boyfriend gets flirted with from time to time and he can't do anything to stop it...no biggie...right?

Who cares if their waitress is laughing a little too loudly at a joke that certainly was not a joke. Who returned with their drinks with a button undone on her uniform. Who hasn't given Eddie the time of day and keeps leaning a little too closely to Steve...on their anniversary.

Steve slams on his foot the minute she turns back again.

"Bitch!" Eddie yelps.

"Sorry! What's going on with you? I've been calling your name and trying to get your attention-"

"At least somebody wants my attention."

"Oh is that what this is about? The waitress?" Steve rolls his eyes.

Eddie doesn't dignify that with a response. He huffs and digs a little more into his seat.

"Eds you know we can't do anything in public...you don't think I don't want to hold your hand across the table? To sit in a booth so I can wrap my arm around you?"

Eddie sits up a little more, "Steve I-"

"Alright gentleman!" The waitress interrupts. "Here's the check for the meal." She slides it closer to Steve, her phone number very obviously printed on it.

"You know, I forgot to ask, together or separate?" She flashes Eddie a forced smile.

A dark shadow passes across Eddie's face. They always have to pay separately. Stupid small town. Stupid Reagan. He was going to take advantage of this opportunity though.

"I guess we can pay together since the check is already here." Eddie reaches a hand into his pocket to search for his wallet. He's about to put the bills together when Steve let's out a girlish giggle.

Both Eddie and the waitress are staring at him in shock. Eddie's never heard that noise from him before.

"Steve? Are you-"

"Oh! Isn't he just dreamy?" Steve flutters his lashes at the waitress.

"...him?"

Eddie tries not to take offense to that.

"Steve, what are you doing?"

Steve's smile is evil. His eyes have a terrible sparkle to them. "Taking care of things dear."

The waitress jumps back in shock.

"We never get to go out anymore, he's so busy providing for me. It's so nice of him to pay for dinner isn't it?" Steve blows a kiss at Eddie and the waitress has gone pale.

"It's our anniversary you know? We can't normally advertise our relationship you know? Some people are awfully rude to us. You've been so sweet to us Sharon."

Oh so that's her name.

Eddie couldn't care less.

Steve turns his megawatt smile to him now. Not even giving Sharon another minute of his time.

"Of-of course. People can be so rude to such a lovely...couple. I'll be right back with your change."

"Keep it." Eddie says, standing from the table and walking over to Steve. "Ready to go sweetheart?" He holds out his elbow.

Steve grabs it and giggles as they leave.

"That was some risky move Stevie."

"I don't actually give a fuck." He leans his head on Eddie's shoulder as they walk home. He can feel Steve's smile pressed into his shirt. He finds he can't keep his own smile off his face.

"Happy anniversary."

----

I'm back bitches!

I wrote this on my lunch break:P

Kind of inspired by the date I went on where we paid separately and it ended on a nice note of friendship

[genericpuff]

I've watched both (this is a hazbin hotel ask btw) but tend to keep my eyes closed to merch sales (and such forth) unless it can pierce my five degrees of separation

also gotta admit that I've been not keeping up with HB since... honestly the since the season end. yeah I'm behind.

What do you mean they're waiting for what's functionally pamphlets? It's taking MONTHS for a pamphlet?

That's funny in the bad way 😭

yeah so from MY UNDERSTANDING (i.e. correct me if I'm wrong) the playbill was part of some exclusive package deal where buyers would receive some keychains, trading cards, and a playbill which was supposedly going to be filled with exclusive interviews/quotes/background information/etc. about the show's production. That playbill was exclusive to the pre-orders, meaning if you didn't pre-order this merch package, presumably you could still purchase the merch package on its own (or possibly its parts separately on the merch site like the keychains n junk) but the playbill would ONLY be sent to those who pre-ordered.

The pre-orders started around a year or so ago, but then roughly 9 months ago when the bundles started to show up, people reported that the playbill - literally the centerpiece of the marketing - was missing.

Since then, the playbills still haven't arrived, but customers have gotten TWO separate emails written from the "characters" of Hazbin Hotel updating them on the situation. Yes, you read that right, the emails meant to update people on the part of their pre-order package that was still missing - a package that cost them $76 and again, the playbill was exclusive to - were written in-character like a roleplay post in a message board forum.

And for some reason, the A24 staff decided that Husk would be the best character to deliver the bad news, a character who is, like many characters in Hazbin, just an asshole.

It's wild that this even got approved as an official email from the A24 team because let's face it - if you had spent $76 with the good faith expectation that you were gonna get everything you were promised in return for that $76 is this really the response you'd want to get? I'm not exactly sure when this email was sent out but according to some of the people reporting on it via Twitter, it was around the end of January (so the end of the month that folks were expecting it to roll in). Not a great way to tell people that the product they're waiting on - and didn't expect to be missing in the first place - was delayed.

Months later, a second email rolled out, and A24 sort of learned their lesson, not by actually addressing their customers as human beings, but this time as Charlie, who is at least not a complete dickhead.

It still doesn't really answer any questions though because it's putting the responsibility on fictional characters to explain what's going on. So of course everything is masked behind the "teehee, Alastor did a naughty and Niffty got stuck in the printing press machine!" roleplaying talk which literally does not actually tell anyone what's really going on, just gives them a vague impression based on what they chose to make a fictional character say.

Sure, it's nicer than Husk, but it's still disingenuous and frankly just cringe esp when this is concerning the interests of paying customers.

I don't know if this is Vivzie's doing or someone else on the A24 team, but it really feels like they're trying to operate the same way HH would have operated back when it was just a Youtube series... but it's not a small-time Youtube production anymore, it's a full on Amazon show with hired employees and a customer base that expects the thing they paid for to actually show up. So at best this is just really immature mishandling of a situation that should be taken at least relatively seriously.

And really, out of all the things to delay... the playbills? Really? For anyone who's not familiar with what a playbill is, it's literally just a booklet. Professional, "Playbill" branded playbills that you see in legitimate theatre productions are (if I recall correctly) anywhere from 30-60 pages, but a lot of those pages are often dedicated to ad space of other productions and companies, with maybe only 10-15 pages dedicated to the actual production. People love collecting them though because you typically only receive them when you go to see a play itself, so it can be a great souvenir from limited run productions.

It's kinda like comic collecting for theatre-goers, they can serve as memorabilia or as "proof" that you were there to attend a specific show. Though playbills don't tend to accrue as much value as much as comics can, they can still have a lot of sentimental value.

Hazbin Hotel isn't a play though. It's a streaming show available on Amazon Prime that anyone can watch anywhere in the world. It doesn't exactly have the need for something like a playbill, because the exclusivity is simply tied to how much extra money you're willing to give them for the pre-order, not to any sort of unique in-person experience of going to the theatre and watching the show live with your own eyes.

Granted, Hazbin Hotel does obviously take heavy inspiration from theatre culture as it is itself a musical, so I can understand the novelty and appeal of creating a unique playbill for it. I just don't really understand why that's the item that got delayed when a booklet containing exclusive info should be one of the easiest things to make, especially when it comes to production costs (printing a bunch of playbills shouldn't be anywhere near as expensive as producing keychains and trading cards).

But there was an update on reddit about this a couple weeks ago and it seemingly contradicts what A24 - sorry, 'Charlie', sigh - said months ago that they were working hard on specifically printing and packaging the playbill orders-

FINALLY the HH fandom gets a real human being from A24 responding, but they're saying that the designs are still being worked on??? So this means they haven't even started printing the things yet?? So that's an entirely DIFFERENT issue that hasn't been addressed up until this point.

So yeah, again, I don't have any stakes in this and it's definitely not something that I'm like, putting a lot of emotional investment into, but it has still been fascinating to check in on every now and then. Big condolences to the HH fans who paid $76+ for this package and are still waiting for the MAIN CENTERPIECE to show up - if you're one of those fans and are now reading this, you're probably gonna be waiting a little while longer because apparently they haven't even designed them yet 💀😆

[xoxoamyas]

`` I love you ,,

rating : fluff/comfort, pet names used on reader [ darling, love, and doll ]

wilbur x gn!reader [ use of you/yours, no use of y/n ]

☆ . you've been overworking yourself, and wilbur has taken notice. he finally gets you to take that well-deserved and needed break. <3

note : i'm in a tiny bit of a writers block, so i decided to give something out of my depths a try [ i'm more experienced in angst ]. anyhow, i hope you enjoy it! any pointers at all are also appreciated, i love to hear them :]

masterlist [ ☆ ]

⋆˙⟡

“Hello, darling.” You're greeted by that soft, mushy tone Wilbur uses whenever he's in a mood. His arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders from behind as you sat on a computer chair, having been working away at editing something for your own projects.

“You haven't left the office in some time.” Wilbur rested his chin along the top of your head, successful in getting you to finally relax back into the seat and effectively a fair amount back into him.

“Hardly call this an office.” You give a light huff, not needing to glance around the room to mentally know how barren it still was. You hadn't had time between keeping up with your own projects and paid-for products for others to decorate the barren room. At most, it had a beanbag in one of the corners and a singular photo of you and Wilbur from one of your dates. One photo, and you had so many ready to be printed. You just needed the time to actually do it.

“I know, love.” He's trying to be understanding, giving a soft sound between a hum and general acknowledgement.

The moment sits for a good moment, and it just feels nice. It makes your mind go blank, not worrying over whatever deadlines were approaching, almost completely forgetting about what projects could and couldn't wait.

Wilbur quietly says your name, drawing your attention and thoughts completely to him. A nice, fairly relaxing feeling washing over you. Realizing just how heavily stressing you had yourself for the past few days. He's quick to grasp your dominant hand into his when you go to reach for the mouse to your computer again.

“Take a break, please. A real break, love.” You can hear the concern lightly lacing into his tone. Wilbur moves a bit, instead to slightly kneel beside you, your hand still held in his yet in an easy grasp that you can pull away from. You wouldn't have pulled away no matter what.

“I just need to save the progress,” you try to explain, ignoring the wave of nervousness that hits. The realization you were about to put your much necessary work down to take a break. Something you convinced yourself you didn't need no matter how much you truly did.

You can practically feel Wilbur's eyes flicker over you, likely seeing through whatever calmness you were visibly projecting. He removes his hand from yours, replacing the touch by letting his hand cup around your shoulder. On his way to standing completely, he presses a kiss to your temple. Seeing the application close a moment later, showing the homescreen of a picture you took and held sentimental value to.

You take his hand in yours again when he offers it, standing and instantly moving in. Wrapping your arms around his torso, and yeah, you've missed this. Wilbur's arms move in an automatic manner, efficiently pulling you closer to him as you press your face into his shirt. Just breathing him in for a few seconds, basking in the warmth he had all the same.

It stays like that, the two of you in a much needed embrace that had you both melting against one another.

“Bed?” Wilbur is the first to break the peaceful silence. It's definitely a welcome break of the quiet. Realizing just how much you've missed hearing his voice, feeling the way his chest moved as he breathed, listening to the way his heart beat when you pressed your ear against his chest..

When you finally nod at his question, having gotten carried away with that last point, he surprises you by suddenly wrapping his hands along the back of your thighs. Taking that as your signal and slightly jumping up for him so he can pick you up easier. Legs slightly curled along the sides of his waist, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. He uses both of his hands to support your bottom, making sure you were both good before he made his way out of the office.

You just mostly rest your cheek on top of his shoulder, feeling almost like you could fall asleep. Though, from past experience, you knew your legs would hate you if you did that.

Wilbur has to remove one of his hands a couple of times for doors, but you're mostly supported the entire time. He taps the bedroom door shut with his foot before moving towards the bed. Pressing one knee into it before letting you go through your theatrics and dramatics. He chuckles fondly as you groan when your back hits the comfortable mattress. Proceeding to give a sound of complaint as you stretch your limbs out over and off the side of the bed. You think bones that weren't supposed to pop popped, but that would be an issue for future you.

“What are you doing?” You queried with pure curiosity, watching as Wilbur moved himself off of the bed. Continuing to lay there, content in taking up the entire space as if you were a cat.

“Can't exactly sleep in jeans, darling.” There's a hint of amusement as Wilbur speaks. Laughing the slightest bit when you give a soft and long “ooohh” in return. “Work on getting comfortable, doll.” He partially motions towards the sheets you were laying on top of.

Any other day, you'd make some witty comeback, maybe a suggestive comment on him changing in front of you. You just don't have the energy for it at the moment, though. Mentally committing the moment to memory so you can be a little extra next time to make up for lack-thereof this time.

By the time Wilbur's finally in some comfortable pyjama pants, which were Grinch themed, you were under the covers and practically almost lights out just laying there. You feel him crawl into the bed, giving a content hum and moving on your side to face him, instantly hinting at not wanting to spoon.

“Hi darling.” Wilbur had a small yet sweet smile on his face, pulling you close by wrapping his arms around your waist. Both of you let your legs intertwine and tangle together as much as possible. You wrap your arms around his torso once more, happy to be holding him as he holds you.

“Hi sweetheart.” You hum right back, watching as he can't hold back the smile tugging into a borderline grin. Always one to be happy over the reciprocation of pet names. You loved watching him get all happy and giggly over it.

“Okay, okay. Try and get some sleep, love.” Wilbur moves, pressing a kiss to your nose. Having fully expected a more proper kiss, you pout at him, promptly making kissy lips at him. It just gets him to let out a light yet amused laugh, finally moving and pressing a soft, loving, and fulfilling kiss to your lips.

When he pulls away, you tuck your head right under his chin. Relaxing and enjoying the warmth that was provided inside and out.

“Hey, Wil?” You make sure your voice is a soft whisper.

“Yeah?” Wilbur moved one of his hands to trace light patterns along your back using his fingers, the action soothing.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[themultifandomgal]

Jay Halstead- Work Husband Pt1

I walk into the break room to grab myself a coffee. Jay, my partner is already in there making two drinks

"Good morning" I greet him

"Morning" he hands me a cup after he pours the hot water in

"Thanks" I give him a smile

"Your very welcome. Actually I erm wanted to speak to you"

"What's up?" I ask frowning but before Jay can talk to me Adam pops his head in to the break room letting us know that Voight wanted to speak to us. He asks me and Jay to talk to a source to find out some information about our perp.

Jay and I get in the car, me behind the steering wheel. At first it's quiet. Then jay breaks the silence

"I think it's time we can be honest with each other. Wouldn't you agree?" This makes me feel a little nervous, but I try to hide it

"Depends"

"Ok I'm just going to say it"

"Go on then"

"You driving all the time? I'm not down with that"

"Tough. I drive"

"I've been on the job longer" I see Jay now looking at me through my peripheral vision. I glance at him before looking back at the road

"Well I've been in this unit longer"

"Ok honestly? I feel like a house husband" I chuckle at this then put on a straight face and glance at Jay

"I'd say sorry..." I stop the car and take my belt off and now give Jay my full attention "but I was told not to lie. Now let's go" I open up my door and both Jay and I start to walk to the shop when a guy whistles at me

"Shake it baby" I raise a brow at him then shake my head

"Jay" I nod my head towards the shop

"Watch yourself" Jay warns

"Yes sir officer sir" the guy says back to

"Does that ever catch girls attention?"

"Jay it's fine. Leave it" I open up the door to the shop "hi Chicago PD we would like to ask you a few questions" I say showing my badge

"Sure"

"A pay-as-you-go phone was purchased from your store in the last 24 hours" Jay starts as I take out the phone number from my pocket

"We're looking for who bought it"

"Yeah, a Juan Garcia. Yesterday. Paid cash"

"Any other information you can provide us?" I ask

"No, we're not responsible for  background checks"

"True, but it is a fairly common name. You know, there's not a lot we can do with that" I give the store clerk a sweet smile

"You don't tell me how to do my job. I don't tell you how to do yours" the guy hands the number back to me as I continue to smile

"You're Glen Pearson, right? The owner of this place?"

"That's right"

"You know, it looks like there's a Glen Pearson with deceptive practice and fraud charge"

"Huh" I cross my arms looking at Jay

"Yeah for selling stolen merchandise

out of Gary, Indiana" Jay shows me a fake police report made to just scare the guy "That's a 25,000 dollar expeditable must-hold warrant"

"Hmm. What do you think Halstead? Height, weight match. Eye color, too"

"Yeah" he nods his head "hey I've got an idea. Why don't we throw some bracelets on him, we'll take him down to the station, run his prints, and then we can be sure" Jay gives me a little nudge

"I got a nanny cam up here. I can pull some footage. Get a picture of the guy who did it.

It's best I can do"

"Oh that's great" Jay and I both smile "oh and I'll have some gum"

We leave the store after getting a photo. I place a piece of gum in my mouth

"I knew that would work"

"Now we just gotta figure out who this idiot is" I pass the photo over to Jay as the same guy we passed earlier throws a bottle

"Why don't you bring that ass over to place sometime girl. I'll let you in"

"Hey" I say to Jay who looks pissed "it's fine. Let's go" Jay takes off his holster and badge, handing them over to me "ok. Yeah" I nod my head. Jay and the guy have a little tiff earning an eye roll from me "oh my hero" I give Jay his things back "and by the way I'm still driving" I run over to the drivers side of the car before driving us back to the precinct to talk over what we have found out.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

☆ { going } down on them in the backseat of a car with Bradley please 🙏

you got it babe! xo

smut below the cut, minors dni.

"Bradley, someone's going to notice a pair of gangly legs hanging out the back door of the Bronco."

"Trust me, honey, no one will notice. Nor will they care. I got Hangman keepin' an eye out." "You trusted Hangman?! Hangman. The same guy who can't talk to my face half the time?" You scoffed, shaking your head as Bradley's lips made their way down your neck and collarbone, peppering the exposed skin of your breasts with hot, wet kisses. "I paid him twenty bucks to keep look out so we could have some alone time. It's not like we're needed at this dinner anyway. Ten for him to actually watch, five for him to keep it a secret, and another five for him to not be a little pervert and sneak a peek," He said breathlessly as he continued to cover every inch of your exposed skin with his lips, leaving your body tingling with excitement at his touch. "Fine," you laughed softly, shaking your head, "I'm only agreeing because you look ridiculously good in that hideous shirt you have on." "Everyone knows the ladies love an ugly Hawaiian print shirt, babe. It's just how it is. I don't make the rules."

Bradley smirked, shrugging his shoulders before scooting his body back on the seat of the car. He tapped your knees with his hand gently, gesturing for you to part your legs. When you playfully refused, he pushed your knees apart, licking his bottom lip at the sight of you. Conveniently for both of you, you'd decided against wearing underwear under the sundress you'd chosen to wear to Bob's birthday party - a barbecue hosted by Maverick at his house to celebrate the WSO, and an excuse to have everyone together. Bradley ducked his head between your thighs, licking a long, slow strip up your slit, your arousal coating his tongue as he lapped at you. You groaned loudly in response, your back arching at the sensation of Bradley's tongue making contact with your clit. He pulled his mouth away for a moment, pressing two fingers into your dripping core, his amber coloured eyes looking up at you as he watched your facial expressions, loving every whimper, whine and moan that accompanied them. "Lookin' so pretty like this babygirl, look at how wet you are for me already, barely even touched ya and you're just dripping," he lilted, his normally subtle Virginian accent coming out stronger as he became aroused. You whimpered as his tongue met with your clit again, lapping at it while his fingers pumped into the spongey wall of your core. His lips sucked at your nub while his fingers worked at you, eliciting a loud moan of delight out of you as you got closer and closer to your climax. "Bradley, so fucking good," you managed to get out before being cut off by another loud moan, unable to finish a sentence without the orgasm that was threatening to come taking over your thoughts. "That's it, pretty girl," Bradley purred, grinning as he looked down, watching his fingers glide in and out of you with ease, "You look so good with my fingers fucking your tight little pussy like this," he said as a third finger made its way into your core. You let out a sharp gasp, one that you're almost positive Hangman would have heard if he's within a ten yard radius of the car. You mewled as you felt your hips thrust forwards into his hand, his fingers drawing you to your orgasm. As Bradley watched you throw your head back in ecstasy at his touch, he ducked his head down once again, licking and sucking at your sensitive nub as you rode out the high you'd reached. Once finished, Bradley pulled his mouth away from you. His chin glistened with arousal as he grinned down at you, shimmying out of his Hawaiian print shirt, revealing the simple white tank top that he always sported underneath. He took the Hawaiian shirt and used the fabric to wipe his mouth clean before discarding it to the floor in the backseat. You sat up, grinning at him, your cheeks rosy and flushed from the orgasm that'd just come over you. "Alright, Bradshaw, now it's your turn."

[stinalotte]

So. Basingstoke Comic Con.

This is going to be a rant. I'm German, so I have a PhD in a) complaining and b) being blunt. Perfect combination for this post. It's going to be long, so buckle up.

I give explicit permission to repost, reblog, screenshot and post to other websites, comment, tag, and add to this in any way you see fit. Feel free to write your own experiences and criticism.

It's a modified version of the feedback email I sent them. Since then, they have put out a statement which directly contradicts some of the stuff other people have told us (and have evidence for) and which blames everyone from attendees to guests to staff to the weather.

First of all, despite all the mess with the actual con, I had a ton of fun. I hadn't seen some of these people in 20 years. I hadn't met some of y'all before, and I talked to so many people this weekend. I don't regret a single meeting, hug, smile, or laugh. I do wish however for the organizers to step on legos for the rest of their lives.

Frankly, they had a huge business opportunity and they blew it. They could have established themselves as THE Stargate convention in Europe. People were taking 15-hour flights to be there. We were willing to spend hundreds, in some cases thousands of pounds. With that lineup, they blew every other current convention out of the water. If they had done this right, this would have been a huge success and an absolute no-brainer for years to come. They could have been one of those cons that sell out in minutes. 

Instead, they let greed and poor organization guide them. They severely underestimated the size of the Stargate fandom. They didn't bother to learn about what the fans wanted and who the guests actually were.

A few things stood out for me:

Health and safety at the venue. No a/c, running heaters (!!) in some rooms, not enough opportunities to get water, way too many people for this size hotel. We are lucky there wasn't a panic or more severe injuries. Crowd control was non existent.

An impossible, ever-changing schedule. You can't put talks back to back, or meet&greets, or photo ops. Everybody knows you will run overtime and then the whole thing collapses. Changes were not communicated. Nobody knew what was going on.

Poorly trained staff. No staff meetings beforehand. Staff had no way to communicate with each other. Seriously, give them radios! Some of them didn't now the names of the guests or in which autograph group they were.

People could not get the things they paid for. Out of all the autographs included in my pass, I only got one, and only because a friend got it for me. [Marion, you're a fucking rockstar] I don't even want to know how many people will be attempting chargebacks on their credit cards in the coming days.

And the most important thing, the one that makes everyone I talked to the angriest: The way they treated the guests was appalling. They are such generous, hard-working people, and BCC shamelessly took advantage of that. Richard Dean Anderson was signing until after 1 am. A 74-year-old man who just wants to make his fans happy.

[BCC are now saying they were told he was a „slow signer“, aka someone who actually takes their time by talking to fans when signing autographs. Oh really? Then why did you continue to sell autographs well into Sunday when it was clear that there was no way he could get through them all in a reasonable time??]

David Blue was setting up his own autograph table. Several Atlantis actors went and got more of their headshots (by taking pictures in the photo room and printing them) because they ran out. Joe Flanigan tried to bring some order to the chaos more than once. He went full John Sheppard in the photo op room and took charge. We are lucky they're such sweet souls and didn't raise hell then and there. Nobody would have blamed them.

Staff were amazing and tried to make the best with what little support they were given. Kathleen, Finn and Nick (with the Stick!) especially, and so many others whose names I sadly didn't get. They worked so hard, never lost their humor, and tried to help as much as they could.

This disaster is entirely on management. It's a failure of leadership and an example of what not to do when you're running an event.

If you want to put on a convention, you need to go to people who have experience and listen to them. You need to attend several cons before even thinking about doing one yourself. And before, during and after, you need to take care of your people. You need to take care of your staff, of your guests, of the fans. You need to adjust the size of the event to the size of the venue, or vice versa. You need to actually be interested in this event beyond the money it will earn you. You need to know when you bit off more than you can chew.

I'm not hoping for a better one next year, because all of us said we won't be back. What I do hope is that hey sincerely apologize to the guests and at least double what money was raised for charity.

[assistant-of-drama]

Assistant Noah's World Tour!

Hello, my name is Noah.

And around 2 years ago, I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

I got into a show called Total Drama and now I can't escape this overrated series or its crazy host.

How did this happen to me?

Well, I'm going to tell you...

When I first entered the show, I thought that I was gonna stay at a fancy resort or something like that, while trying to win the 100,00 dollars.

But instead that hotel turned out to be a crappy, ancient campsite. They only have one outhouse and there's a camera inside of it. The food is disgusting and served by a violent psychopath of a Chef. The host is basically insane and probably gonna get crazier. With the cherry on top, being that our first challenge was to jump off of a giant cliff.

Yeah, the money just wasn't worth it.

I decided to trick my team into voting me off.

So, when the dodgeball challenge arrived, I saw it as the perfect opportunity since I hated sports anyway. I simply refused to help and gave my team the occasional rude comment here and there, to irritate them even more. It was almost too easy.

I smiled and chuckled to myself as I left the dodgeball arena, forgetting about the cameras recording my satisfaction.

When I wasn't given a marshmallow, I had to resist the urge to smile, while acting angry and disappointed. I even subtly insulted their intelligence one final time as I left, getting pelted with marshmallows in the process. It was totally worth it.

I couldn't fight the smug smile anymore as I reached the boat, nor the sigh of relief as the boat left the stupid island.

If only I knew that being unable to control my joy would've sealed my fate.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that there was a resort after all; a resort of the losers.

How ironic, but I wasn't gonna complain.

However, a few days later, Chris and Chef learned that I got voted off on purpose. They were furious. They called me back to the island, explaining that as a punishment, I would have to come back to the island as Chris' assistant for the rest of the show. My jaw dropped in disbelief. Apparently, I missed the fine print in my contract; if anyone leaves on purpose, then they're forced to work for Chris.

As I reluctantly went on the boat back to the island, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of anger, disappointment, and a bit of fear. I didn't know what Chris had planned for me, but I knew it couldn't be anything good. When I arrived at the camp, I immediately put on a disguise, so the others wouldn't recognize me.

I was exhausted. Chris had been working me like a dog since my return to the island. He had me doing all sorts of tasks. I'd never been so tired in my life. Every time I thought I'd finally catch a break, he'd find something else for me to do. It was relentless.

But at least I get paid more than the other interns.

Then later to my surprise, Chris began to ask me for new ideas for the challenges. I was confused at first, but then he explained that he was impressed with how I managed to trick my team into wanting me off the island. He saw it as a sign of my true potential. I couldn't believe it. Chris, the insane host, was actually praising me?

I decided to take advantage of the situation and give him my best ideas. To my surprise, he actually liked most of them. Over time, my role in the show became bigger. We would brainstorm ideas for challenges together, and I would help him execute them. It was a weird kind of partnership, but it worked for us.

As the days went by, I learned to accept my new life on the island. Sure, it was still a competition, and there was always the chance that someone might figure out my true identity, but for now, I was content. I even started to enjoy the challenges again, if only because they were more interesting with my unique perspective. The gross eating challenge was one of my favorites.

When the finale arrived, Chris, Chef, and I were thrown into the water by the contestants as a form of revenge. We didn't see it coming; one minute we were announcing the winner, and the next, we were soaked to the bone.

Then my wig came off, revealing myself to the others. They were angry at first, but after I explained everything, they decided to forgive me… except for Heather. We all had a laugh about it and even became friends.

I thought it was over.

But then Chris made everyone chase a case with a million dollars inside of it, while I simply stayed at the resort.

Then Chris revealed that he tricked everyone into doing a second season of Total Drama, I didn't care at first because I thought that I was gonna leave.

The apathy turned into horror, when Chris reveals that I'm still his assistant, according to my signed contract.

Life, why do you hate me so?

In Season 2, everyone became extra nice to me, hoping that their kindness would somehow get them special treatment in the future episodes.

Even Justin began flirting with me, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. I mean, sure, he was gorgeous and all, but I'm immune to Justin's charms. He's just another generic pretty boy that everyone loves drooling over.

I was so relieved when he left.

While the others finally took the hint that I wasn't gonna give them anything and now leave me alone, thank god.

Now that Season 2 is over, Chris is currently preparing a third season which is gonna take place in a unstable plane traveling across the world and singing random musical numbers.

Chef was right, that is the worst idea ever.

At least I'm not expected to sing.

The making of Season 3 is how I met Alejandro. The perfect combo of beauty, brawn and brains. Basically Justin, but with upgrades. The man who could charm the pants off of most species. At least that's what Chris says. Because personally, I think that guy is as overrated as the show I'm forced to work on.

That doesn't stop the Prince Charming Wannabe from flirting with me. In fact, it only seems to encourage him. He's constantly circling around me, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. It's amusing, in a pathetic sort of way. I mean, really, how can someone be so convinced that they can win someone over with a few well-placed compliments and a big, fake smile? It's almost insulting.

Then there's Sierra. She's… interesting, to say the least. There's something about her that suggests she's not quite right in the head. When she was an interviewer, she followed the cast around like a lost puppy, constantly scribbling in her notebook and asking questions that no one seems to understand. She's also obsessed with Cody.

Her obsession with Total Drama is borderline creepy. She knows every contestant and knows personal things about us too. Even Chris himself. It's unnerving, actually. She even seems to know some things about me that I'm pretty sure I haven't told anyone.

They are the two weirdest people that I've ever met… and I'm about to be trapped on a plane with them. Great. Just great.

I'm not sure whether to feel sorry for myself or laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I mean, here I am, stuck as Chris Mcclean's assistant, while everyone else gets to compete for a chance at a million dollars. And now, we're all going to be singing and dancing our way around the world. It's enough to make anyone's head spin.

Pray for me.

(Inspired by total-drama-brainrot's anonymous questions!)

[thebibliosphere]

ID: A cropped screenshot from Ingram Spark showing various distribution regions. The highlighted ones are the US and the UK. The price shows 17.99 with a red exclamation mark next to it.

The next drop-down box prompts the author to set the wholesale discount to 55% trade, noting that this is the "retailer preference."

The author compensation, aka the amount the author will get paid for their work after wholesale discount and printing costs have been taken out of the $17.99 price tag, is shown as 0.61 cents in the US and 0.04 pence in the UK.

----

So this is a thing that I saw today when I logged into Ingram to confirm some metadata.

They used to list "retailer preference" at 40%, which is what they have made into their new wholesale distribution standard. You will not be able to distribute your books for global wholesale anymore after October 30th if you don't have your rates sent to 40%.

I don't doubt retailers would prefer if we sold to them at 55%. But considering myself and several others already have doubts over whether or not Ingram is actually showing our discounts to retailers (they've been caught showing mine as 5% even though they've been listed at 35% for three years), I'm just sort of sitting here, well, I can't accuse them of fraud, but let's just say I am not not thinking it.

Also, just a fun little tidbit, I tried to use my old ISBNs with d2d which legally I am allowed to do. They are mine. I own them. Anyway, d2d sent me a warning about how it would require me to work with them and Ingram Spark over several weeks to transfer the ISBN, and ahaha. Hahahahaha.

I'd say, "How do we think this is going to turn out?" But I think we all know.

We know.

[thelovelyruin]

𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖆.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : you’re choso’s girl, and he makes sure to give you anything you want.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, love, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, teasing, fingering.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 3.6K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from primandonna by marina and the diamonds.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

Primadonna girl, all I ever wanted was the world…

“Chosooooo…” 

“Yes, princess?” 

“I want it real bad!” 

“That one?” 

“Yeah, that one!” 

“No problem, baby.” 

When you and Choso originally came to the mall, it was to get a dress you saw in one of the catalogs that gets mailed to your place. You’d been excited all week, having to wait til the weekend to get it ‘cause that’s when it released. You were one of the first ones there, trying it on and walking out on the runway in the store. Choso was enamored with you, especially when you did poses at the end, obviously playing around, but nonetheless, he had it bagged for you and paid for by the time you got dressed again. Even though you knew he would get it for you, you were still really grateful, kissing him as he took the bag from the counter. 

You’d decided to wear a pink tracksuit combo that day, a cropped jacket and shirt, and lowrise pants to show off your belly button ring. You wore your hair up in a ponytail, a couple of strands let out, and a cute pair of earrings. Then there were your bangles, clinking against your wrist as you walked in your pink Amiri’s. You called it “athleisure but way cuter!” (not like you were actually going to the gym), but despite what you wore, Choso thought you looked damn good.

I can't help that I need it all!

You and Choso have been together for about three years; it was pretty much love at first sight, at least for him. When he’d first seen you, it was in a magazine feature their team had gotten, getting a couple of models to take pics on the cars; you’d worn this cute top and shorts that left little to the imagination. Yuuji had given the magazine to him at a meet since he hadn’t gone to the photoshoot himself. When he landed on the page with you on it, Yuuji said:

“Dude, she’s a babe. She’s done a couple of shoots, but this was the first for our team. Just had to pick her; I mean, just look at those-”

“Look at my what Yuuji?”

You were standing in front of them now, manicured finger bringing the page down to look them in the eyes. Yuuji choked on his spit as Choso got flustered seeing you in person for the first time. You’d look past them and at the car they were sitting on, a G80 M3 with a candy purple wrap.

“Ooooo! This is so cute! Who’s is it?”

Yuuji pointed at Choso, who awkwardly smiled and gave you a little wave. You walked over to him, arms crossed as you looked into his eyes. Shamelessly, he looked you up and down, eyes landing back on your face as you smirked.

“And who are you?”

“Choso, nice to meet you.”

“Of course it is! Nice car, too bad I couldn’t shoot on it.”

You were a spicy one, but fuck, you were sexy.

“You can if you want to.”

You’d walked up to him, face inches from his as you looked up at him. Yuuji took that as his cue to leave, patting Choso’s hand as he walked off.

“Depends, do you want me to?”

“What I want is to take you out.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. Let me pick you up on Friday.”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it!”

You say that I'm kinda difficult, but it's always someone else's fault!

You’d walked away from him, leaving him licking his lips as you left. He’d seen you around for the rest of the night, talking to a couple of the other girls, then taking turns with them to flag for the races. Before Choso left for the night, he’d looked for you, but you had already left. He sighed in defeat and walked back to his car, but before he got in, he caught something under his windshield wiper—a napkin with your lipstick print, and your phone number right above it.

Choso did take you out that Friday, picking you up and taking you out for dinner, a little bowling after. He’d fucked your brains out that night, and you two were pretty much inseparable since then. Before you came along, Choso won a few races a month, then bought a dealership; pretty well off but didn’t have a lot of things to spend it on. But you had plenty. After about three months, he’d moved you out of your place and into his apartment downtown, bringing your cat with you. He’d gotten you a C6 convertible, of course, gloss pink wrap with custom cheetah print seats, which you’d drive to and from Pilates and Starbucks, always coming home to kiss him as he spoke to the employees at the dealership. You’d cook him a nice dinner and snuggle up to him at night, a true love story.

Choso fucking loved you and, as a result, had a thing for praising you. Friends would say he kisses the ground you walk on, but he tells them no. He makes out with it. You were his and loved it, wearing a little silver chain with his name on it, him having a tattoo of your initials behind his ear. He’d send you on trips while he went out of state to race, often to fashion weeks, always coming back with quite the list. Like that time you’d come home from Milan, and you just had to have that sparkly Versace dress you saw.

Choso got you everything you wanted, no matter the cost or size. That is until now.

Got you wrapped around my finger, babe; you can count on me to misbehave!

“Baby, you already have that one.”

“Yeah, but not in pink! I got it last year in white before the new drop, so now I just have to have it!”

You looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes, which usually worked, but this time, he genuinely didn’t see a purpose in getting the same bag twice.

“It’s a no, princess. Sorry.”

Unfortunately for him, you were a fucking brat. Not that you couldn’t take no for an answer, but you weren’t gonna be happy about it. You’d walked off from him now, him tailing you to make sure you were okay. You’d walked into another store, real sweet to the attendant that walked up to help, but rolling your eyes at Choso as you looked through the racks.

“Princess…”

“Yes?”

“You’re acting like a brat.”

“Whatever do you mean? I’d like to try these on, please.”

Would you do anything for me?

With that, you walked away, the attendant opening the dressing room for you two as Choso sat the bags down. You’d put the dresses on the hangers as Choso took a seat on the bench in the room. Swiftly, you took off your jacket, hanging it on the door hook and taking off your pants, your shirt following. And what did you have on? One of those pretty lace sets he’d gotten you a month or so ago, a gift for your anniversary. You were wearing probably the only set he hasn’t fucked you in. You weren’t oblivious, taking extra time to get up from the floor while undressing. Choso felt pretty courageous, pulling you back into his lap as you gasped at the sudden motion. He spread your legs over his thighs, keeping your legs open as his hand walked itself down to your panties, which Choso rubbed through the fabric, making you squirm a bit. He brought his mouth to the side of your face, whispering in your ear as his other hand pinched your nipple through your bra.

“You’re pretty damn wet, princess. Want me to help you with that?”

“Mhm!”

“Gonna stop acting like a brat so I can eat your pussy?”

“Yes, baby, please!”

“My pleasure.”

Would you get down on your knees for me?

Choso set you up on the bench as he sat on the floor, pulling your panties off and gently sitting them down next to you. You met his gaze as he spread your legs, kissing the skin of your thighs as you bit your lip in anticipation. He chuckled a bit as he kissed the outside of your lips, excited to taste that familiar sweetness he’d indulge in every day if he could. Teasing you, he licked lightly into your slit, tongue barely grazing your pussy as you sat there whimpering. He’d brought his face back up, signaling you to quiet down as he tasted you. You shut your mouth, groaning into your hand as he began eating your pussy. He’d make it quick today, on a time crunch, before the attendant returned to check on you. He’d brought his face deeper into you, fucking his tongue into you as you gripped his hair. He’d heard you moaning his name into your hand, smiling into your pussy as you closed your eyes to center yourself from all the pleasure. With that, he decided to mess with you a bit. He took his tongue off you, replacing it with his fingers, you groaning from the lack and returning pleasure. 

I know I've got a big ego; I really don't know why it's such a big deal, though!

“Move your hand.”

Hesitantly, you moved it, trying to moan as quietly as possible as his thumb rubbed your clit, the others pumping inside of you.

“That’s a good girl. How ya feelin’ baby?”

“So good, Choso…”

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck you here?”

“Yessss…”

His fingers had found that sweet spot inside you, throwing your head back as your body arched forward.

“God, you’re so fuckin beautiful, you know that?”

“So sexy, even when you’re pissed at me.”

“Look at you, lookin’ pretty as you fuck my fingers.”

All the praise was driving you mad. You brought your hand to your mouth, bracing yourself for the impending orgasm. Instead, choso brought his hand up to your mouth, pulling his body upward to kiss the side of your face as he pumped relentlessly inside of you, feeling you almost screaming his name into his hand.

“You’re so pretty when you cum, you know that? Let me see that pretty face. Cum for me, baby.”

With that, you lost it, body jerking onto his fingers as you moaned his name over and over into his hand. He replaced his hand with his lips, feeling you groan into his mouth as you came down. He kissed his way back down, putting your panties back on as you sat there panting, recovering from your high. Smiling, he brought his lips to your again, pulling away to get a good look at you.

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess.”

Choso wiped your juices off his face, watching you fix your lipgloss. Damn, you were-

“Ma’am, you okay in there?”

When you give, I want more, more, more! 

You opened the door, body adorned with one of the dresses you picked out, as you stepped out and did a spin.

“Do I look good in this dress?”

“Beautiful, ma’am!”

“Great, I’ll take it!”

After you got dressed and the attendant checked you out, she gave a wave and smile to both of you as you left the store. You held tight onto Choso’s arm, smiling up at him as he guided you towards the mall parking lot. He’d opened the car door for you, sitting you inside as he put the bags in the backseat. Starting the car, he looked over at you.

“Ready to go home, baby?”

“Actually, can we get ice cream first?”

I wanna be adored!

Get what I want 'cause I ask for it, not because I'm really that deserving of it!

Choso always went all out for your birthday, going above and beyond to make your day special. He’d started the morning by getting a private chef to come up to the apartment to make you breakfast. Before that could happen, though, he was having trouble getting you out the bed, especially with how you’d woke him up.

“Choso…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Wanna fuck you, can we?”

Usually, he’d be more than happy to feel your pussy first thing in the morning, but you two had overslept (or, as you called it, beauty sleep), and the chef was gonna be there in the next 45 minutes, which you’d take the whole time to get ready.

“Want to, baby, promise, but your first surprise is about to get here soon; go start getting ready.”

When you’d heard surprise, you’d pretty much forgotten about morning sex, instantly hopping out the bed to start getting ready. You were so excited for your birthday that you got your hair curled the day before, lashes too; they were the finishing touch after you’d done your makeup. You decided on a cute pink tennis dress to match your pink Dolce sneakers, holding off on dressing up until later this evening. With a couple of sprays of perfume and a little gloss, you were ready just in time for the chef.

When you were done eating, you looked up to Choso, waiting to see what came next. He gave you a kiss and a smile, walking you to the living room, a bunch of boxes wrapped in pink paper on the middle of the floor. You squealed as you ran and sat down, waiting for him to come over.

“Oh, baby, you’re too sweet!”

“No problem, princess.”

You went through your gifts: a couple of pairs of heels he’d seen you looking at on Pinterest, one of those new hairdryers you saw on TikTok, jewelry, lingerie, the usual stuff. You’d give him a kiss between every present; lips probably had more gloss than yours did at this point. Some of the stuff you’d try on and walk around in like you were modeling, like the Chanel sunnies he’d gotten you. It always made him so happy; he could tell you loved every single one. You’d always take care of anything he’d gotten you, everything down to the first thing he’d gotten you, a sterling anklet you’d found online. After two years time, the chain snapped, and you had quite the fit. You’d been sad for days. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fix it, but he’d been there for you to reassure you that even though it broke, his love for you wouldn’t.

As you closed the final box, you wrapped him in your arms and kissed his cheek repeatedly, making him giggle as he almost fell over.

“Got one more thing for you, baby.”

Choso walked to the room, returning with a box with a big bow on the top. You looked at him skeptically, intrigued that this gift had been separated from the others. Still, you took it as he handed it to you, setting it on the couch next to him as you opened it. There was a layer of paper on it, followed by a simple dust bag, presumably to hide what was underneath it. Before you opened it, you looked up at him; he nodded to you to finish unboxing it. You slowly opened the dust bag, pulling-

“BABY, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!”

Choso had gotten you the pink version of the Vivienne Westwood bag you’d seen at the mall! You pounced at him as he smiled and braced himself for impact.

“You like it, baby?”

“I like it? I like it? I LOVE IT!”

Going up, going down, down, down!

You’d put your lips on his now as he brought a hand around you to sit the bag down gently. You completely straddled him, body pressing to his as you made out with him. He’d brought his hands to your ass, bringing your hips closer to him as you kissed him deeper. You’d pulled away, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, biting your lips.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“Wanna show you how grateful I am.”

“Yeah, how you gonna do that?”

“You're gonna take me back to the room so I can-”

Choso cut you off, throwing you over his shoulder as you playfully slapped his back, him slapping your ass next to his head. When he got you to the room, he laid you down quickly, taking off your sneakers and outfit; hate to mess up such a cute dress with cum stains, ya know? He’d removed his clothes, lifting your body to sit on the bed so you rested your head on the pillows.

Anything for the crown, crown, crown!

Choso brought his lips to yours, kissing you softly and then rushing down to your tits, making you laugh. He’d wrapped his lips around your nipple, looking up at you as he rubbed his hands up and down your body, tickling you slightly. 

“You like that, baby?

“Hmm, maybe…I think your lips would feel wayyy better somewhere else.”

“Oh yeah? Suddenly, I’m really hungry.”

He brought his body down in between your thighs, in one motion, bringing your thighs up to your chest, spreading you open for him. You whimpered when his tongue found your pussy, holding your legs firm as he fucked his tongue into you. Choso was having a lot of fun, seeing you squirm in the position you were in as he all but devoured your pussy. He let all of your juices spread his face, anything to taste more and more of you. When he started sucking your clit? You went nuts. You moaned his name over and over, gripping the shits as you were able to be as loud as you wanted. You felt that fire growing inside you as his nose rubbed against your clit, tongue sinking further and further, exploring you as you fell out above him.

“Baby…”

“Baby, I’m about to cum!”

“Baby, fuck, I-”

You came for him, closing your thighs out of reflex, nearly suffocating him. He brought his face up, letting your legs down, smiling down at you as you tried to catch your breath. Choso was pretty damn cocky. He knew that his tongue sent you flying, having to center yourself as you came down. He brought his body over yours, kissing the side of your face as you came to.

“You okay, princess?”

When the lights dim down, down, down, I spin around!

In one fall swoop, you flipped Choso over, straddling his waist as you brought yourself down on his dick. He was gone, shocked at how fast you’d maneuvered but also from how fucking good you felt. He brought his hands to your hips, fixing his legs so he could fuck into you. You were on top of the world, literally. He was thrusting into you rapidly, one hand on your tit, the other holding your ass as he slammed you down on his dick. Fuck, you two were in love. Bodies sweating against each other, both getting turned on by the other's face, flustered and fucked out as you brought your bodies against each other. You’d shifted your hips slightly so he could fuck into you at that angle that made you scream his name.

“Princess, fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

“Choso, fuck, right there, don’t stop!”

Got you wrapped around my finger, babe…

He was hellbent on making you cum on top of him; he could make you cum in missionary or doggy style later, but right now? He couldn’t get enough of your face, lips quivering and eyes forced shut as you tried to hold on to any sort of balance you had.

“Princess..”

“Mhm?”

“Look at me.”

Hesitantly, you looked in his eyes, knowing at that point you were about to cum. You were completely self-indulgent, and Choso loved it; you’d brought your body forward, resting on your hands on either side of his head as he fucked into you. Shit, he wasn’t gonna last much longer either with your face as close to his, getting a front-row view of your reactions to how good he was fucking you. He’d gripped your ass as leverage to slam you down harder, slapping the skin there every time you said his name. When your arms started to shake, he knew you were about to cum, so, like a good boyfriend, he talked you through it.

“Look how pretty you are, fuck I love you.”

“Gonna give you the world, baby.”

“You’re mine, yeah? Cum for me, then baby, give it to me.”

You lost it right then and there, arms collapsing and body laying down on his as you came hard all over him. God, you were an angel. Whimpering for him as you milked his dick, pussy spasming around his shaft. Choso came at that point, holding your hips against his as he filled you up, groaning as he sat his face into your shoulder. Panting, he brought you into a hug as he fucked you through your orgasm, smiling as you moaned his name softly.

You can count on me to misbehave!

Choso felt a little bad for fucking you so hard, your curls had fallen a bit, and your mascara had smudged a bit when you came. You lifted your hips slightly, letting him know to pull you off and lay you down. You turned your body towards him, running your hands through his hair. He swore at this moment he could marry you; watch you walk around with his ring on your finger, but right now? He was a little too fucked out to think about it clearly.

“How was it princess?”

“So good!”

He smiled and picked you up, taking you to the bathroom to get washed up. Looking at his watch, it was 10:45. Depending on how long you took to ready again, you guys could make the lunch reservations.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“So, there was this LC500 i was looking at…”

“It’s yours.”

Primadonna girl!

♱ the song used in this story is primadonna by marina and the diamonds. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

[beatrice-otter]

There is FINALLY a women's hockey league that pays its players a living wage. There's been women's hockey before; the National Women's Hockey League was founded in 2015, later becoming the Premier Hockey Foundation. They got bought out in 2023 and rebranded as the Professional Women's Hockey League. Unlike its predecessor leagues, PWHL players should not need to work second jobs to have an income to live on in addition to playing hockey; the PWHL has minimum salaries. All players must make a base pay of at LEAST $35k, which is crap but at least it's crap you could theoretically live on. But most of the players are going to earn more than that, because there is also a team average minimum. The salaries for the whole team combined have to average out to at least $55k, and the top six have to each make at least $80k. But these are base pay rates; they also get a housing stipend ($1500/month) on top of that and a "daily meal allowance" when traveling, and all of these rates are contractually obligated to increase each year (3%). It's still peanuts compared to men's hockey, of course, but it's something you could make a living at, at least. And when you add in the housing stipend, a full-time player is actually making a minimum of $53k/year.*

Anyway! The first PWHL game took place on January 1, 2024, and you can watch the games on the PWHL Youtube page. I hope they do well, because female athletes should be treated (and PAID) better and while "a living wage" might seem a low bar it is still one that women's leagues too often fail to clear. So far, they seem to be doing okay; the January 5th game (Minnesota vs. Montreal) SMASHED the previous record attendance at a women's hockey game. 13k people attended; the previous record worldwide was a game with 8k attendees in Sweden. The North American record was 6k, so this is double that.

The thing that interests me is that they are CLEARLY not branding the teams, they are branding and repping THE LEAGUE. None of the teams have a name other than the city they're from; none of them have a logo of their own, just the PWHL logo; the uniforms are pretty identical, just different colors. (each city name printed diagonally down the front.) I read an article that the teams are expected to each rebrand themselves next year, but I'm still surprised that they're not trying to build up any kind of team loyalty from the start, just league loyalty.

The closest I get to being a hockey fan is occasionally reading hockey RPF (there are a TON of great writers in that fandom, if you've never checked it out before). But I support women's sports, and with games being on Youtube it will be pretty easy to just stream it on my TV (muted) while I go about my evening. I know it doesn't ad up to much in ad revenue, but it's something that costs me nothing. (And it's not like I'd be going to a game in person even if I lived in one of the six cities that has a team.)

*If you're wondering "why do they pay base salary + housing allowance instead of just saying what the whole salary is up front" I'm guessing there are tax incentives to do it that way. It might be either tax deductible for the team or untaxed for the player, or both.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Sweet on You, Chapter 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Story Summary: HERE

Warnings/Tags: Sugar Daddy!Matt Murdock, Idiots to Lovers, No Age Gap, Alternating PoV, No Use of Y/N

Word Count: ~1850

A/N: I had entirely too much fun writing the terms of Matt and Reader's contract, lol.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged in this or any of my other stories, please let me know!

Divider by @theradioactivespidergwen

Tag List (struck-through blogs could not be tagged): @danzer8705 @capylore @shouldbestudying41 @atemydadforbreakfast @peachy-flxwr @sleepysleepymom @fishinsuits @milkbummm @lazyxsquirrel @beezusvreeland @caughtthefever @bohemianrhapsody86

Thank God it's almost time to go, you thought to yourself as you began to get ready to leave work on Monday afternoon. Wish they'd hurry up and replace Roxy and Tabitha soon.

You had been one of three admin assistants until two months ago when Roxy, the junior admin who had told you about Sugar and Spice, had moved across the country for a job that would actually utilize her college degree, and Tabitha, a glorified intern with no administrative skills who you suspected had only been hired because one or more of the partners had thought she was hot, had gotten fired for showing up to work still wasted after a night of partying. Now you were on your own and doing the work of three people with no relief in sight.

From the moment you arrived at the office at 8 AM that morning until right then when it was time to leave you had been going non-stop. You had fielded phone calls, made appointments, arranged travel, greeted clients, fetched water and coffee, filed for permits, picked up lunch for all three partners from three different restaurants, ordered flowers for your actual boss's girlfriend's birthday, made copies, and printed and mailed invoices -- all with a smile on your face and without a word of thanks from anyone. 

Needless to say, you were looking forward to a drink and a nice, pleasant dinner that you didn't have to prepare yourself and could actually sit down and eat rather than have to quickly inhale like you had had to do with the sandwich you had procured from the deli down the street for lunch.

At 5 PM on the dot you shut down your computer and unlocked your desk drawer to grab your purse.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up before poking your head into your boss's office. “Hi, Mr. DiStefano, I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving for the day.”

“Okay,” Mr. DiStefano replied without looking up from the floor plans he was studying.

You waited for a moment to see if he was going to say ‘thank you, have a great evening ’ -- or anything else for that matter -- but he didn't. “Okay then, see you tomorrow.”

You stopped by the other two partners’ offices to let them know that you were leaving, receiving very much the same non-response from both.

You sighed as you left your office and headed towards Nelson, Murdock, and Page. You were feeling extremely unappreciated and underpaid, especially since you were now having to fill the admin assistant role for all 3 partners at once. Maybe it's time to start looking for another job…

You shook your head. You weren't going to even think about trying to find another job until after you got your mother's medical debt paid off. One thing at a time.

“--Yo, Matty, we hitting up Josie's tonight?”

Matt looked up and shook his head as Foggy stopped by his office. “Actually, I can't. I have plans after work.”

Foggy gasped. “Do you have a date ?”

He poked his head out of Matt's office. “ HEY KAREN, MATT HAS A DATE TONIGHT! ” he yelled down the hall.

Matt sighed. Here we go. He was glad that you and he had already come up with a cover story on how you had met so he wouldn't have to think of one on the spot.

“So, what's her name and how'd you meet her?” Foggy asked.

Matt said your name. “We met at The Brew Towers on Saturday.”

“Ooh, coffee shop meet-cute,” Karen gently teased as she joined him and Foggy in his office. “How romantic.”

“Yeah, tell us more,” Foggy added. “Did you spill your coffee on her? Accidentally grab each other's order? Brush hands across the condiment station?”

Matt chuckled. “Actually, we struck up a conversation while we both were waiting in line to order and since it was busy and tables were scarce we decided to sit together. We hit it off, so I asked her to have dinner with me tonight.”

“So where are you taking her?” 

“Okinawa.”

Foggy huffed out a laugh. “Ooh, fancy.” 

Matt shrugged. “It was close to the office.”

“What time are you meeting her there?” Karen asked.

Matt shook his head. “Actually, she's meeting me here in about 10 minutes and we're going to walk over together.” 

“Well, I'm really happy for you and I hope everything works out with her.”

“Yeah, same,” Foggy added. “It's good to see you putting yourself out there again, buddy.”

Matt inwardly cringed. After everything he, Foggy, and Karen had been through he hated lying to them, especially when they seemed so genuinely happy for him. “Thanks.”

“Guess it's just us at Josie's then, Kare. Let's go before she gets here -- I’m sure Matt doesn't want to scare her away by introducing her to us too soon.” Foggy rapped his knuckles on Matt's desk. “I expect a full report on your date tomorrow morning, Matthew.”

Matt chuckled with a nod. “Will do. ‘Night, guys.”

He waited until Foggy and Karen had left before pulling up his and your contract and printing copies in both standard and Braille print.

A few minutes later he heard your footsteps approaching the office, so he walked out into the lobby to greet you. 

“Hi, Matt,” you said as you entered.

“Hi,” Matt replied. “How are you?”

“I'm good, and you?”

“I'm good too, thanks.” Matt gestured towards his office. “Let's go to my office.”

He led you down the hall to his private office. “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? We have water, soda, tea, juice…”

“No, I'm okay,” you said as you sat. “Thank you though.”

Matt sat across from you. “Alright…”

He picked up the print copy of your contract and handed it to you. “Here’s the contract. I'll read through it, just let me know if you have any questions.”

“Okay.”

Matt cleared his throat and began to read. “Memorandum of Agreement. This memorandum of Agreement is made by and between Matthew M. Murdock and…”

He could hear your quiet, steady breathing as you followed along. He had tried to make the contract as simple and straightforward as possible in order to protect both himself and you.

“...Shall provide the following obligations,”  he continued. “Accompany Matthew to lunch and/or dinner at minimum twice weekly. Accompany Matthew to business-related events as requested with minimum 72 hours prior notice. Accompany Matthew to non-business events as requested, dependent on availability.”

“Wait, what does that last part mean?” you asked.

“Just that every once in a while I might ask you to do something with me that doesn't involve a sit-down meal,” Matt replied. “But also that I'm not going to make you drop everything just to have a cup of coffee or take a walk with me.”

“Oh, okay, that's fair.” You paused. “Sorry, go ahead.”

Matt nodded. “In exchange, Matthew shall provide the following obligations: Monthly stipend of $1,500 --”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted again. “We only agreed on a thousand a month.”

Matt shrugged. “Yeah, but I thought about it and decided that fifteen hundred was a more fair amount for your time.” Especially since you're using it to help your mother.

You sucked in a soft breath. “Oh.”

Matt could tell you were torn between arguing with him and just accepting the higher amount and waited until you decided which path to take. 

Finally, you sighed. “Okay.”

“Okay. ‘Payment for all outings and events, including but not limited to meals, beverages, gratuities, tickets, souvenirs, and gifts. In the event of a professional obligation, arrangement and payment for appropriate garments for said obligation. Accompaniment to requested events with minimum 72 hours prior notice, dependent on availability.” Matt paused. “I figure it's only fair in case you have a work event or something else you'd need a plus-one for.”

You huffed out a mirthless laugh. “Even though I have to plan and set them up I never get invited to actually attend any of DiStefano, Williams, and Abbott’s events, but that's good in case I ever do.”

Matt's brow furrowed at your slightly bitter tone. He'd have to find out more about your job. “Anyway, ‘Confidentiality: Each party shall treat as strictly confidential the nature of said Agreement as a result of entering into or performing duties outlined in this Agreement’. ”

“Snitches get stitches,” you quipped. “Or in this case, sued.”

Matt chuckled. “Relation of the Parties: The relationship between both parties is that of a platonic nature and of partners in a business transaction. No other nature of relationship is obligatory herewith.”

He continued on with the rest of the contract -- termination of the agreement (that either he or you could terminate the contract for any reason at any time with 30 days prior notice), remedies on default (that if one or both of you failed to perform your duties or otherwise broke a clause in the contract, the contract as a whole would be rendered null and void) and finally, amendments (that the contract could be amended at any time with the express written agreement of both you and Matt.)

“Governance: This contract shall be governed by and construed in accordance with the laws of the State of New York,” Matt concluded. “Signed by both parties stated here within and effective as of date first written above.”

He tilted his head back up towards you. “Everything sound fair to you?”

You were silent for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it's fair.”

“Okay then.” Matt handed you a pen and the second printed copy of the contract. “Just so we both have signed print copies.”

“Okay, yeah, no problem.” You signed your name on both copies of the contract. “Am I signing the Braille one too then?”

Matt nodded and handed you the Braille copy, quickly feeling the text below where your signature would go. “Sign right above here.”

“Okay.” You quickly signed your name. “All done.”

Matt signed his name on all three copies of the contract and set both his Braille and print copies into his desk drawer before locking it, then he folded your copy and put it into an envelope. “Here you go. Now that business is settled, how about we celebrate our new arrangement with some dinner?”

He heard you tuck your copy of the contract into your purse. “That sounds wonderful,” you replied.

Matt stood. “Shall we, then?”

He retrieved his coat from the coat rack and took his cane out of the inside pocket, then you both headed back towards the lobby.

Matt turned the lights off and opened the door for you. “After you.”

You stepped outside. “Thank you.”

Matt followed you outside then locked the door behind the two of you. “This way.”

You headed down the sidewalk to what Matt hoped was the first of many get-togethers, a comfortable silence between you.