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genericpuff · 1 year ago

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on the closure of MochaJump, and why we're our own worst enemies in this industry.

"MochaJump? What was that?" is probably your first question, and I'm gonna simply respond with, "Exactly."

MochaJump was a small startup platform made by /u/nunojay2 and a second site engineer (whose name I am not informed of) on reddit. It wasn't anything extraordinary, just a startup site that aimed to offer a more viable alternative to Webtoons and Tapas, with a focus on offering equal visibility to creators, focused recommendation algorithms, loosened restrictions on NSFW content, and bigger cuts for creators on their generated revenue.

Of course, such promises are a tall order, but the creator did their best to host regular discussions with creators in art and webtoon communities to get feedback on what creators really wanted out of their platforms, and they researched what they would need to make in order to keep the site afloat (it came out pretty low at $2 per user per month). Hopes were high and the site launched with a small but eager userbase.

It stayed small. The site shut down in November 2022, just 6 months after launching in May 2022.

Now, I'm not gonna sit here on some soapbox and blame anyone for the site closing down. I unfortunately didn't get much chance to use the site myself so there's surely more I could have done on my own part to help it gain traction. But this is a regular occurrence for start-ups like this, especially in an industry that's as notoriously unprofitable as webcomics. We've seen titans such as SmackJeeves and Inkblazers fall, and MochaJump was merely an infant by comparison.

But it makes me think of how we view and treat these startups as a whole. How we as readers and creators alike have become so trained to exclusively use corporate platforms like Webtoons and Tapas on the promise of "bigger gains". Unlike these bigger companies, platforms like MochaJump depend on building a strong userbase as quickly as possible, and need to find ways to generate revenue to keep things running, otherwise it's only a matter of time before they close down. They don't have a massive conglomerate like Naver or Kakao to pad their pockets through their failures. They don't have the money or reach to inject themselves into society through bus terminal ads and convention sponsorships. They don't have the investors to sink money into their platform until it becomes profitable in return.

So we don't use them. Readers don't use them because we don't see the point in using a platform that has no content... and thus creators don't use them because we don't see the point in publishing our content on a platform with no userbase. Creators seek a place that's "tight knit" and "easy to get seen", but will only post to places that come pre-loaded with massive audiences; because it's not enough anymore to have a couple hundred followers, we're in 2023 now, in the year of consumer bloat, where we expect to now pull in thousands if not millions to be considered a "success". And readers seek a place that offers high-quality high-amount content at the tip of their fingertips, but don't want to pay for the access to these works, and in the case of apps like WT, have given up in trying to support these creators through the platforms themselves because they know that those artists they want to support will likely never see a dime.

The fact of this problem is simple, yet many people seem to ignore it - we cannot expect to have a platform that is tight knit, profitable, and sustainable. These places do not exist, not so long as we continue to raise the bar on what makes a "successful" subscriber count, not so long as we continue to patronize platforms that exploit their artists and writers, and not so long as we keep chasing the dragon of "what these websites used to be". These platforms never used to 'be' anything, they merely existed in one point of time that is now long gone, when owning a smartphone was a luxury and not a need, when online video content wasn't being tethered together by ads, and when the Internet wasn't owned and entirely managed by the same three corporations, the likes of which we haven't seen since cable TV.

Platforms like Tapas and Webtoons are - besides unsustainable - unable to exist and profit in the way they do without undercutting someone along the way. Whether it's underpaying their creators, undercutting their communities, or underexposing the works that have been buried, someone will get the shit hand in the deal and that someone is usually ALWAYS someone who will rarely ever stand to gain anything in the long run from using these platforms despite their issues. The 1% got theirs, and the 10% are barely getting by, while the remaining 89% are pushing onwards, because they have faith in the systemic online enshittification that demands conformity to a single formula for "success".

We are our own worst enemies in this industry. Webcomics are one of the few online mediums that still truly belong to the people - anyone can make them, anyone can find joy in them, but we're letting platforms like Webtoons and Tapas and all the other massive corporate apps rob us of that joy and accessibility in the pursuit of "success" and profiting. Webtoons was never the sole way to profit off this medium and yet I still see people every day who underestimate the existence of legitimate publishing houses and self-publishing, who think that publishing on Webtoons and landing an Originals deal is the only way to find success in this industry. This is meant to be the era of creators, of self-starting and self-actualization, and yet we're still handing all of that control over to corporations that only seek to exploit our art, bodies, and labor, while convincing ourselves that this will somehow all be worth it. We stick with Webtoons, despite the numerous controversies it's been involved in and the lack of support it's given even its own hired creators. We stick with Tapas, despite the undercutting of its most core components such as its community and the outlier genres it used to be known for hosting. We find new ways to justify using platforms that are steadily going downhill - Patreon, Twitter/X, Youtube, Instagram, Facebook - because we've been convinced that these are the routes to success, so if we acknowledge their failures, then "success" can no longer exist.

Because we need to pay rent. Because we need to eat. Because we need to survive. Because it's a lot more complicated than just "stepping away". Because the startups just don't have any of the surface level potential for us to immediately identify and get on board with, so we don't give them a chance.

I realize this post got very existential and depressing. I've been creating comics for well over a decade now, largely unnoticed, and I've fallen victim to these same limiting mindsets that we have to stick to one way, one "formula" for success - a formula that changes with the wind and only works for those who get in on the ground floor. It's been slowly killing me from the very beginning, robbing me of my joy to create, of my reason to even do this in the first place - to tell and share stories with others, to express myself creatively, to live my life surrounded by art and stories and creations made by and for others. It's made me tired and miserable, and I can tell it's done the same to those who have shared that boat with me.

But there's one silver lining I can always be sure of, and it's one I was reminded of after realizing I was still in the MochaJump Discord, with one announcement post that I hadn't yet read.

Webcomics are one of the few online mediums that still truly belong to the people. Corporations are trying their hardest to take that power away. Let's not continue to let them.

If you want to help sustain, patronize, and contribute to the growth of sites that are still being operated by small teams (or even one man armies), please, consider checking out the following websites, some of which serve as platforms or publishers, others which operate as link directories for independent sites run by creators.

ComicFury GlobalComix TopWebcomics The Webcomic List The Webcomic Library Hiveworks SpiderForest SmackJeeves Archive Inkblot.art And whoever wants to use the GitHub source code used for MochaJump (RIP)

Let's do our part to decentralize webcomics again. We may not be able to leave the platforms that weakly sustain us, but we can still support those that strengthen and support us.

#also bonus: if you're willing to pay like $10/year for the domain name you can get free hosting on comicfury #essay post #decentralize the internet #decentralize webcomics #fuck webtoons #support small platforms #don't be a coward #use the sites that only net you 20 readers #it costs you literally nothing but a little extra time #i guarantee most of these sites come with more features and more supportive userbases than webtoons #webtoons doesn't even have a fucking TAGGING SYSTEM #why did we allow ourselves to be convinced that webtoons is setting some industry standard ?? they're PISS #WT is literally persephone #riding off daddy warbucks' money while being a big stinking failure of an entity who no one likes but still calls a hero #no wonder WT loves LO so much it's literally an autobiography at this point

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pixelizedprince · 10 days ago

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💀 Bishop is in charge of mentally/physically cleaning up after another botched ritual & Emmrich helps him center himself ▪️ rook's niece, Margaux, tries to combine her limited Seer/Corpse Whispering studies with mixed success 💀

4k // angst // hurt-comfort

💀👻💀👻💀

Featuring:

Bishop Laidir (M!Elven Rook, 56 y/o) x Emmrich

Margaux Laidir (F!Half Elf, Rook's 23 y/o Niece, Mage, Bonus Companion)

Mentioned:

Florin Beaudin (Margaux's father, Bishop's Best Friend/Brother-in-Law, Mage, Deceased)

Eleni Laidir (Margaux's Mother, Bishop's Sister, Warrior, Deceased)

Topaz “Paz” (Bishop's Friend, Ex-Qun Mage, resides in Rivain)

💀👻💀👻💀

I wrote this before DATV released and it's still my pride and joy. The gift of prophecy HIT ME HARD with this one.

I know Bioware lost the plot on “all elves are feeling magical” but it is an idea that I hold dear and love the consequences of.

Does anyone truly understand how the magic system in Dragon Age works? I sure the fuck don't.

Hope y'all enjoy this highly self indulgent story / give it a "hell yeah two cakes" understanding

Bishop's hands twitched with the spark of the immense magic whipping about the room, his fear and anger both raging on inside of him as Emmrich shouted an incantation. Margaux's hovering body radiated a sickly green glow that made his skin crawl. “Spirit you aren't welcome here, if you do not relinquish her I will be forced to banish you-” The being, the thing inside of her hissed. The elf flexed his fingers, teeth grinding at the helpless feeling, how could she do something so irresponsible?

“Whatever she contacted isn't malicious, but it doesn't know where to go, I do not believe she is conscious enough to direct it either!” Emmrich's words were barely audible over the pseudo-winds.

Bishop didn't give a shit if it was a spirit of puppies and rainbows, it needed to let her go. The man steadied himself from against the wall and leaned forward, pushing through the force. Bishop's feet fought for purchase as he slowly made his way across the cobblestone floor, grinding his feet against the freshly painted runes that compelled this demon here.

“Bishop!! Be careful! The veil is volatile around her and might try to defend itself! Please back down!” Emmrich had planted himself firmly against a banister, struggling against the currents. The necromancer was currently concentrating on the barrier he had cast to keep the event contained, barricading himself and Bishop inside the flux of power. It was a desperate attempt to keep other spirits from joining, in addition to keeping what misfortune had struck his quarters to a minimum. There was a fear that if the magic destabilized enough it might take some of their base with it.

The mage's plea was deftly ignored, Bishop strained but reached the center of the symbols on the ground. Emmrich was too busy trying to keep the building from collapsing in on itself. Bishop knew he had to do something to help and hells forty some odd years of picking fights bigger than him is what he was best at. He needed to protect her, damn the cost. The spirit needed to let her go. She was less than an arm's length away now, Margaux's body limp and swaying softly, suspended in the eye of the whirlwind. “You will LEAVE NOW!!” Bishop growled, grabbing through the verdant flames that enveloped Margaux. The supernatural blaze left its current host untouched but wasted no time in singing Bishop's palms as digits finally, firmly, grasped Margaux's ankle. Bishop wanted, hoped that the tingling in his fingertips was simply his own flesh bubbling and blistering, pain his mind was too overwhelmed to process. He could handle a wound, as long as Margaux stayed safe he could deal with a few days without his hands, hells even losing the feeling to the nerves he'd make due. One more ache on the list was nothing compared to his niece's safety. Bishop was not prepared for the sensation that felt like a bomb had gone off in his grasp, his every nerve feeling flayed raw - a wave of energy burst forth from his clenched fist and rippled through the air, a golden aura cutting through the spirit's hold. An unnatural howl streamed out of Margaux's body, light and energy expelling from her frame. Across the study, the waves of energy, fade green followed by unfamiliar amber force - rang out, and despite Emmrich's best effort to contain them the new expelling force overpowered his own - vials shattered, candles and lanterns flared up temporarily erupting before flickering dimly. Margaux dropped abruptly. Emmrich, freed from the spirit's winds, rapidly threw up his arms to summon a new barrier around her body, lessening the impact as Bishop reached out and fell to his knees, seizing her body and pulling her close.

Emmrich hurried over, hesitating before putting a hand on Bishop's shoulder. The elf shuttered at the touch. Bishop remained quiet as he peered down, Margaux's breathing dropping from a hyperventilation to a steady rhythm before he sighed. The necromancer bit his lip. “My dear, I- I am not quite sure what just happened, but the presence is gone. Let's lay her down on the table over here-” Emmrich nervously guided his love to the table where he knew the elf had witnessed various experiments of his take place. It made him feel a pang of guilt that this is probably not the most reassuring scene for Bishop to bring Margaux to.

Bishop stood and nodded, refusing the hand Emmrich leaned over to offer. It took a fair amount of effort to cradle his niece and carry her the small distance. His knees were weak from the adrenaline drop, from the effort to carry the fully grown woman, and from the prickling in his hands that still hadn't left- what he'd hate the most to address when his head stopped spinning. Bishop laid Margaux down, carefully examining where the fires had caught her gown in a few places but miraculously she seemed physically unphased. From the corner of his eye he saw Emmrich approach the table, take off his overcoat and fold it as swiftly as he could manage, gently propping up Margaux's head with the garment. Emmrich tutted as he proceeded to take her pulse, offering a meek smile when his hazel eyes caught Bishop's own, however the turn of the mage's lips did not reach his eyes. Emmrich draped Margaux's arm across her front and took a step back from the table, offering Bishop space to process but close enough to let the elf know that he was waiting for him.

Bishop went to brush Marguax's mess of black curls and caught himself before he could finish the movement. The elf looked down at his hands, gut twisting as he could feel the pull of the fade still stringing from his fingertips, invisible spiderwebs attached into a force he never wanted any part in. He felt exhausted on a level he hadn't felt in? A long time. Bishop looked helplessly at Emmrich, searching for an answer to the question he was yet to utter. “Emm I don't know what I did. I- this place- fuck! Fuck!!” Bishop slammed his hand down on the side of the table. Pain radiated from his palms up his wrists, his skin blistering making the reality of the situation close in. Margaux stirred in her sleep-like state because of his outburst and he was instantly filled with grief. Bishop gasped and covered his mouth with his hands, regretting his anger, and turned to face anything but his niece. Emmrich gestured for him to come close. Bishop instinctually filled the space, complying when Emmrich reached down and gently took Bishop's hands in his own. The mage mumbled quietly, curling strings of magic around Bishop's apparent own, the older man could intimately feel the pain being stitched away. His throat felt dry, an uncomfortable lump claiming a wail, stifling the sobs of grief and fear that wanted to overthrow Bishop's peaked anger. He turned to look across the damage. The study wasn't ruined but it sure the hell wasn't going to be a quick fix. “Is she going to be alright?” Was all he could muster through hoarse lips.

Emmrich cautiously linked fingers with Bishop's healing own; rings of silver and gold clinking together a shimmer of noise that felt incredibly out of place with the destruction of their safe haven. He stared intently on their tangled digits and avoided Bishop's eye. “Manfred said that he fetched us as soon as things went awry. Thanks to your…. It doesn't seem like she had been like that for long, I believe she will be fine, my dear. Aside from what I assume will be a chastising for the books.”

Bishop scoffed and leaned his forehead against the taller man's. “Damn right.” He felt sturdy for the first time in a while, being comforted by the man he'd grown to love. That could also be the soothing of the healing magics Bishop was sure Emmrich had employed the moment their foreheads had met. Bishop sighed and let their shared grasp break, but allowed one hand to linger, holding a single hand for a moment before returning to the headache before them. The men both returned their gaze to the girl upon the table. Her gown torn from the wind, burnt from the spirit's force, but thankfully alive. Damn right she was going to get an earful.

‘Damn right’ turned out, was an understatement. There had barely been enough time to inform the Guard of an incident and vaguely told of the temporary off limits status of Emmrich's study when Margaux started to stir. Upon waking she had immediately sprung from the table and insisted she had had everything under control -

“This place has so much information, if I had another day, another chance, I could have made it work!” Margaux was in full defense of her attempt. She paced as she spoke, discovery and excitement still fueling her. Piss and vinegar of defiance even though Bishop had laid her unconscious body down on the operating table not even an hour before.

“You didn't need to steal Emmrich's notes to do so! You aren't trained in necromancy Margaux, as much as you'd like to think you know, you don't!!” Bishop, usually as animated as the girl, stood firmly in the spot, arms having enough motion for his body to match her feistiness.

“I never stole anything, I borrowed and Manfred helped!! I know I can do this, if I could have another chance I could contact them both!” She swooped down and tried to grab a paper from the ground by where the sigil once lit the room, only to have the page disintegrate to ash in her fingers. She irritatedly grumbled and wiped the mess down the front of her ruined dress.

A sad sigh escaped Emmrich's lips as he watched months of research crumble in his hopeful protégé’s fingers. He scowled and shook his head, pulling Manfred aside, to have their own, much quieter conversation about the situation. Margaux tried not to notice the disappointment in the necromancer's eyes that made her blood run cold.

“If that's what you wanted so badly, if you want to piss with spirits and talk to fucking creatures beyond your knowledge you should have stayed home and paid attention to any of your blasted studies!! Seer Yamaris would have shown you a safe way to communicate!!”

“After how many years?! How many years under her learning the basics and telling people's stupid fortunes for gold would it be before I could try to talk to them?? Until I forget her face like I did his?? You threw me away to become something I never asked for! To make a quick copper, of course that's the only future you and Nouric ever saw-” Margaux halted her animated walk to emphasize her point, wagging her finger in her uncle's face. He caught her wrist in his hand and interrupted the girl mid sentence.

“Don't- you-” Bishop shook with anger, her words cut near as deep as betrayal he had felt before, many years back. He let her go and felt the spark of magic underneath his skin once more, he had to end this conversation now before the cat got out of the bag. Bishop looked directly into Margaux's eyes, they shone with a twinkle of green defiance he had seen in Florin's, her jaw set in the same way Eleni's would when Bishop and her had an argument and she knew she was right - both memories from so so long ago here again and freshly angry with him. He opened his mouth and closed it again, Margaux huffed and pushed off of him. Now that look- squared up shoulders, her gentle lean forward, now that posture mirrored his own. Chest huffing to make her seem bigger, he had taught her that when she was little, to stand up against anyone that gave her shit, bullied her for her name, her heritage, her abilities, and now she had it here, on display - against him. It doesn't matter if she was actually close, or if she was actually capable of contacting Florin or Eleni, the dangerous part was that she whole-heartedly believed it. Bishop was sure his heart was breaking in his chest. He mustered the dying flame of anger once more, trying to get through to her, “Da'len you don't belong here!! You shouldn't be mixed up with thugs and fugitives! Margaux Ethena you should be safe back home!!”

Margaux's tough demeanor faltered in an instant, a dam breaking behind her red rimmed eyes and unleashing a flood of tears. “There is no home without you there-” Big ugly tears had already been falling but a sob wracked the girl's body, she shoved past the older men, clipping Bishop's shoulder with a magicked force that made his nerves once again feel raw. She bowed her head so Emmrich could not see her face and embarrassment further, gave a swift sign across her heart ‘sorry’ to Manfred, and ran out the door. Bishop looked ahead unblinking and unresponsive to the outburst. Manfred turned and reached out a skeletal hand in her direction, chattering something that Emmrich immediately put up his palm to silence.

“Manfred, no. Let her go. I, hmm, I am very cross with you as well right now. You have been privy to my conversations with her and notes alike. You know that she wasn't ready yet. This will set not just her but my studies back several weeks. I ask that you wait on the balcony friend, I expect you to help recover the study later this evening. Leave us be.” The mage toed a broken bottle from the path as his hand gestured towards the doorway. Manfred's jaw dropped and the skeleton's clacking went silent. He shuffled out, closing the door slowly behind him.

Books and papers were strewn across the floor, several small fade corrupted fires settled from the candle flames, the wax cooling from being super heated, wasting half their lengths. Emmrich ran his shoe across the sigil on the floor, interrupting its shape further, ensuring no spirit, demon, would visit them again so soon. “Hells, what a fine mess.” Emmrich put his hands on his hips and whistled.

Bishop coughed. “I'm so sorry Emm. I'll take her back myself come morning. I'll go back to Rivain and I'll make sure Paz keeps a better eye on her. I didn't mean for your place to get wrecked like-” the elf's hand swept across the scene, “This. She shouldn't be here.. she's been a liability since day one and I, fuck, I shouldn't be here, I just-” Bishop righted a chair that had been knocked over and slumped into the seat. He leaned forward, putting his face in his soot covered, burnt hands and sobbed.

Emmrich let out a soft gasp, and immediately closed the gap across the room, careful of the various ichors and broken glass. The mage fell to his knees in front of Bishop, throwing his arms around the elf's neck and pulling him slightly lower into an embrace. “Love, love, love, Bishop, oh Bishop my dearest, everything is okay. Margaux is okay, I am okay. I want you to be okay. You don't need to take her anywhere she is right where she needs to be. You are, right where I'd love for you to be. Here with me. You have got this, and I've got you.”

Bishop cried harder, leaning deeply into the crook of the necromancer's neck. “Emmrich I'm not cut out for this. I'm just an old thief, I'm no fucking leader, I'm no dad, what the hells am I playing at? And now angry magic? I'm just as qualified at this as Mar is qualified with talking to the fucking dead-”

“My sweet, try to breathe, clear your mind and try to listen to me please. I am more disappointed in myself than I am with Margaux right now. I can only imagine what I am feeling is a fraction of the hurt and confusion you are trying to process. I am here to make sure our group remains safe, that includes being here to help her learn safely. I am here to help you through this experience, of abilities you do not understand as much for you as I am for her, okay?”

“Please don't tell her-” Bishop pulled away, a sad attempt to catch his breath he sobbed again. “Emmrich please don't tell anyone, I can't, I don't want this power - I already ruined myself and got connected to this nightmare, I hate feeling the air around me, inside everything it's-” he gagged, the branches of magic weaving through it all making a new wave of nausea hit him.

“It is overwhelming, I know. Oh my dear sweet Bishop, you have lucked out on this day because your beloved is an expert at calming one's nerves.”

“Please I don't know if I can take more healing right now, it's making my skin crawl.” Bishop put a polite hand over his mouth to hide his stomach's lurch at the thought.

“Ah-ha. Actually my darling I meant a piping hot cup of camomile and a warm bath.” Emmrich smiled and rested his forehead against Bishop's once more.

It was damn near its own kind of magic how his heart went from breaking to overflowing thanks to Emmrich's skilled hands. Truly a master necromancer to bring his decrepit old chest back to life, feeling so hopeful again, following one of the most tiring of events this side of god slaying Bishop had dealt with recently. The elf trembled as he cupped Emmrich's angular face in his worn hands, kissing His love so softly. Emmrich hummed into the tenderness.

It took the old fools a moment before they returned to the reality about them. Sadly amongst the damage was Emmrich's prized possession, a phonograph device direct from the Necropolis. The intricate metal bell dented from debris, but thankfully it still managed to work, streaming gentle music through the grand room. Hours of work passed, the early morning to late afternoon, Emmrich insisted Bishop nap in the necromancer's bed while he cleaned up some of the vials, (“Nasty business all these concoctions - and I don't want you to accidentally touch something that can further harm you poor hands my dear.”) Harding stopped by during Bishop's nap to offer her assistance but Emmrich assured her they were fine on their own. Early evening passed, and as the false sun began to set Bishop pulled himself from sleep. The elf stepped outside for a moment of fresh air and a smoke when Bellara popped by, assisting Manfred in delivering tea. The skeleton slipped inside while the two elfs watched the vastness of the fade together. The moment of silence was fleeting, for this was also an excuse for Bellara to quietly let Bishop know that she had talked with Margaux. “I'm going to keep an eye on her overnight, an observation disguised as a sleepover. I can promise you if I had any idea she was going to do anything so, much, I would have been there for it!! It, uh, seemed like it wasn't to, successful, she hasn't said much, and Lu-”

Bishop tipped his mug he had received from the younger elf and gave a tight smile. “I've got a lot of work to do Bellara. Thank you for the tea, da'len.”

“Oh, ah, absolutely Rook- Bishop, I'm going to get back to her, grabbed an extra hot chocolate while I was in the kitchen, Luca had me grab some spices for it? I don't know- anyway have a good night!” The mage rushed her thoughts as Bishop slowly closed the door on her.

The older elf turned back into the building and exhaled, he'd have to figure out what to do with Margaux later. It was more complicated than sending her home, he knew that, but dammit if he didn't hate the other options that were lining up in his mind.

“Why thank you Manfred.” Emmrich sipped on his drink as he descended the spiral staircase. He held a journal in his other, meeting Bishop at the bottom. “Good morning Darling.” Emmrich's voice warmed Bishop even more than the tea. “My love, I need you to look at this.” Emmrich offered up the notes and Bishop peered at the page. His stomach did a little flip as he saw Margaux's handwriting sprawling across the page, the edges of the book scorched and some pages torn but the text was still legible. However, seeing the words still didn't make it make a single lick of sense to the elf. Bishop raised an eyebrow and a polite chuckle escaped Emmrich's lips. “Ahh apologies Love, well, as frustrating as this has been, I need you to know that she was painstakingly close to actually getting this right. I am aware that you are less than impressed by this “fruitless” endeavor and I am displeased at how my quarters and work have been upended but she wasn't far off at all. I found this amongst the rubbish and miraculously it wasn't too destroyed.” Bishop groaned and pinched between his eyes. Emmrich rubbed the small of the elf's back while he continued, “I did some light reading, and may have tapped into the fade while you were resting.” Bishop's disgruntled look was accompanied by the disgusted grunt. “Here dear, why don't you sit down for a moment.” The mage had corralled him towards his desk.

“Emm, you know I adore the names and lingering touches as much as the next fool but what are you getting at, my head still feels like it's been wormed through by lightning, speak plainly.” Bishop was growing annoyed by the moment, putting both his cup and the notebook onto the desk with a bit of a huff. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, looking up at the lanky man who seemed to be growing more nervous by the second. “What's going on Emmrich? Is Margaux okay?”

Emmrich wrung his hands a few times and steepled his fingers as he spoke. “Yes Margaux is okay. More than okay truly I am more excited by the day to teach her the proper ways of going about life with the dead. Bishop, her attempt was a genuine connection and it seems from the spirits I spoke with that it worked, well, it worked better than it should have for someone as amateur as her. The big issue lay in her contacts. Bishop, from my various connections in the fade, not a one was able to pull upon Florin. I do not believe he has passed.” Emmrich held his breath as Bishop stared blankly up at the man.

Bishop grabbed his cup and sipped once more. “I, wish I could just go back to being piss mad. That was, better actually.” His hands trembled. Emmrich put a soft palm on Bishop's shoulder and squeezed.

“I've got you, remember?” Emmrich exhaled tentatively. Bishop looked up at him with his good big brown eye, tinged red rims already peaking with tears once more.

“C-can we go to bed? Please? Even if we don't sleep right away, Emm, I need, to not be the Rook for a bit.” Bishop's voice broke, going to a whisper.

He knew it would be a lot to take in, but Emmrich would stay by his side no matter what. The elf had claimed his heart and he longed to help him heal however that looked. “Of course love, give me your hand and we can go sleep like the dead.”

Bishop's oncoming spiral temporarily calmed. Emmrich could make him crack a smile even when the world felt like it was falling out from under him. Bishop braced himself and got out of the chair, taking Emmrich's hand in his and not feeling the immediate flash of magic and nerves for the first time all day. One step at a time, they took the stairs upwards, towards the bed, one step at a time. With Emmrich he could take one step at a time, and despite how the day had gone, Bishop took some solace in that.

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