#not that it matters my queue is set for a few weeks still

[every-sanji]

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[angelicpoison12]

daddy issues ☆

MFA/MFM, (N)SFW, 18+, PORN W/ FEELINGS

Lucifer notices just how much you care. when he gives you a rubber duck, your feelings solidify, and you decide to show him your gratitude in a more... physical way.

Lucifer is downbad for you omg, top!Lucifer, soft dom!Lucifer, mating press, missionary, fluffy sex, i need to show this man some love ya'll oml

—🦢— 

it felt a little odd finding solace in a man that you’d feared your entire life. growing up, you were ushered to avoid the devil at all costs. it felt weird knowing he was a short, funny, socially awkward king that liked rubber ducks.

Lucifer was everything that you never had but wanted in a father; someone who was kind and was willing to guide you in the hotel. you were happy that his relationship with Charlie was getting better. Lucifer seemed to still have some trouble with properly socializing, having a filter, and making sure to catch social queues-but he was trying, and that was what mattered most. 

you often found yourself questioning if you wanted more to come out of your relationship with Lucifer. it was odd, in a way. you were both so nervous around each other that you had to be in a conversation with others just to get it flowing. you both realized you had more in common than you thought you ever would. you were both silly and had your own hobbies that collided in the best ways possible. he made you feel heard and safe. 

—🦢— 

one night, you decided to have a drink to chill out. it had been a long week, and you just really needed to cool off. 

you sat at the bar, looking at Husk with a smile. he smiled back. Husk enjoyed you because you didn’t push his boundaries, and you often respected him. he enjoyed talking to you as well, and most of the time, he’d let you pet his ears if you got drunk enough to ask sweetly. 

“just a soda water, please. i’ve had a long week,” 

you told Husk. he poured you a seltzer and added some juice, sliding it over to you. as he dried a few glasses, he asked,  “what made your week so long?”  “i don’t know honestly. it just felt longer than most weeks,”  you said, shrugging. Husk nodded.  “i understand somewhat. but what’s up? you don’t usually sit at the bar. you often get your drink and go to the lounge,”  Husk said, quirking a furry brow at you. you sighed and looked around.  “i’m waiting for Lucifer... i know he hangs out around here before bed, so I wanted to see him.”  “oh? you wanted to see him before bed, huh?”  Husk asked with a smirk, chuckling as he shook his head. your face turned red, and you pouted, crossing your arms at Husk. he knew all too well that you wanted more than just a friendship with Lucifer. he’d often watched from afar, seeing how you two would both light up in conversations, constantly hitting it off and talking faster than two teenage girls at a slumber party.  

you nodded and quietly said,  “well... yeah, of course i do. he's my friend.”  “he should be down here soon. he’s been locked up in his room all day upstairs. i think he’s been making those dumb ducks,”  Husk said. you were quick to say,  “hey, they aren’t dumb! i think they’re pretty cute.”  Husk only chuckled and shook his head in response, amused by your loyalty to the man.  

Lucifer came downstairs, humming and holding a little paper bag. he saw you and his cheeks were dusted with a rosy red.  “oh! Y/N! i-uh, what’re you doing down here? weren’t waiting for me, were ya?”  Lucifer asked, smiling shyly at you, now holding the bag behind his back. you smiled back at him, watching as he sat at the barstool next to yours, setting the bag on the counter.  “nah, I was just stalking you.”  you teased at him. you noticed the bag and asked,  “what’s that?”  “oh-well, uh it’s-uhm, it’s actually for you.”  Lucifer said. he pushed the bag towards you. it was light and didn’t have too much of a feel to it. you took out the white tissue paper, hearing it crinkle under your fingers, gasping when you pulled out the item inside the bag. 

it was a rubber duck. it was painted and decorated to look like you. it had the swirls of your hair in acrylic paint, your eyes in resin glass, a little beak, and even cute clothes made of fabric he’d sewn himself. Lucifer looked at you, a little nervous as he asked,  “do you like it...? i mean, i hope you do, i spent a lot of time on-”  you didn’t even let Lucifer finish his sentence. you lunged forward and hugged him, your head in his chest as you snuggled up to him, mumbling against him,  “no, no, Lucifer... i love it. i love it more than you could ever know. thank you so much,”  you told him, smiling up at him. Lucifer held you close, his nose nuzzling in your hair as you both basked in the hug. 

“goddamn, get a room, you two!”  you heard a boisterous laugh behind you. you blushed and turned around, seeing Angel Dust standing there, leaning against the bar in his usual lustful gaze at Husk.  “say uh, wanna have some fun, Whiskers?”  Angel asked, his lower set of arms fluffing up at his chest. Husk’s eyes widened, a low, gravely growl coming out of him in a catlike way. 

you took this opportunity for a distraction, dragging Lucifer away and going upstairs to his room. Lucifer squeaked when you basically pinned him against the wall, leaving you both breathless and a little shocked of the situation.  “Lucifer,”  you began, swallowing as you tried to figure out how to say the words. it was hard. you’d been wanting to tell him how you felt for ages now. but now that you had the opportunity, it felt as if the water was boiling hot beneath you both, and you couldn’t deny the palpable feeling you were getting in your chest. 

“Lucifer, i... i just-”  you didn’t need to finish. he pressed a finger to your lips, his eyes nearly burning with love.  “shh, you don’t need to say anything, baby,”  Lucifer’s voice was a soft purr as he spoke. he cupped your face, his claws gently holding you as he came closer, your lips brushing in a sweet serenade.  

the kisses went from soft and innocent to messy and spiraling in a matter of seconds. by the time you’d reached his bedroom door, you were both practically drooling into each other’s mouths.   "fuck, Lucifer,”  you panted. he smirked, starting to kiss your neck as he chuckled,  “nah, it’ll be the other way around baby, trust me.”  he said, his forked tongue sliding its way up to your ear, circling the shell as he began to tug off your shirt over your head. he pinned you down on the bed, whispering,  “don’t worry, baby. i’ll be gentle. well, as gentle as i can be... i wouldn’t hurt you on purpose, i hope you know that,”  Lucifer said. his voice was loving and you could tell he meant every word he said.  

you shivered when Lucifer tugged your shirt off, his lips making their way down to your collarbone, his hands lovingly squeezing your chest. "fuck, you're beautiful, applecake." Lucifer whispered, his lips a little shaky. they went to your left nipple, his soft fingers fondling with the right one. he reciprocated the treatment to both of them, making your chest feel buzzed and loved.

he licked his way down to your tummy, dipping it into your belly button, eliciting an innocent giggle from you. he smirked at that, enjoying the sensations he was making course throughout your body.

Lucifer's fingers webbed into your pants, his eyes looking up at you for consent. when you nodded at him, he slowly took them off of you, reveling at the sight. he sucked in a sharp breath, his slacks feeling incredibly tight all of a sudden. "fucking unholy Hell.." he choked, grabbing some lube from his nightstand. he coated his fingers, shedding off his coat and vest, left in his unbuttoned white button up shirt, and white pants, his black boots left on as well.

his fingers were cool and sleek against your hole. he pressed a tender kiss behind your ear as he said, "shh, relax, baby.. i promise, i'll take care of you," he said, gently sliding the first finger into you. you felt your body quiver, making a soft gasp leave your lips. Lucifer kissed you, easing some pain when he added a second finger, stretching you further. "oh God," you panted, quivering under Lucifer's ministrations. no wonder why Lilith and Eve slept with him, fuck, he was really good at this. "no God can save you now, applecake," Lucifer chuckled in a sinister tone against your sensitive neck. you squeaked when he sank his teeth into the soft flesh, making a yelp leave your soft lips, your muscles tightening around his fingers.

Lucifer pulled his fingers out of you, sucking the digits clean before undoing the zipper on his pants, but he only pulled them down enough just to expose his butt. you whined, wanting to see more of him. "you'll take what i let you see of me, baby, or nothing at all." Lucifer growled, his hands holding down your shoulders. you pouted but nodded, deciding to be obedient for now.

he slowly stroked some lube into his length. it was a good length, not too girthy, but had a nice vein running on the left underside. he slowly brushed the head of his cock against your entrance, shivering as he felt the remaining wetness from the lubricant he used to stretch you out. you hooked your legs around his waist, and he pulled you closer, your forehead nearly touching.

"i love you, Y/N," Lucifer whispered, kissing you. you mewled into the kiss, gasping when he pushed into you at the same time. he ran his snake-like tongue over your lips, and you gave him permission to enter your wet cavern, allowing him to take control over your oral desires. his hips were slow and measured as they pushed against you, his pelvis rubbing you in all the right places. you moaned quietly, enjoying the intimate scenery. the lights weren't too bright, the bed was soft, and you could feel each other's warmth-even though Lucifer was still pretty much clothed. but fuck, it made it more exciting in a way.

"ah.. Lucifer, fuck.. more, give me more," you begged, growing used to the pace. Lucifer smirked and pressed you further into the bed, his hips angled downward as he began to go faster and harder, his tip hitting your spot over and over again. you cried out at the sudden rough pace, yelping and whimpering with each nudge his tip made inside of you.

"fuck-! Lucifer! i'm cumming-! yes, don't stop! don't stop!" you begged, almost drooling from how good he was destroying you. Lucifer couldn't help but grin sadistically at the sight, his horns coming out as he grew into his demon form, nuzzling your neck and sinking his teeth into your flesh once more.

the mere feeling was enough to make tidal waves of pleasure roll over you. the bite, his cock inside of you, his pelvis rubbing you-it was all too much. you were cumming fast and hard, your release explosive, back arching, lips letting out the sweetest yet most sinful sounds Lucifer had ever heard. it wasn't long before Lucifer was cumming too. his cock pulsed inside of you, and he grunted, pulling out after a few more sloppy thrusts. he stroked his cock, a few stray pieces of blonde hair falling in his face, lips agape, eyes half-lidded as his cock shot white ropes of orgasmic wax onto your tummy.

Lucifer smiled, panting after the last drop had smeared along your belly button. he kissed your lips, his mouth going down. you made a confused noise, only to squeak when his tongue began lapping up his release from your tummy. he nuzzled your pelvis, chuckling as he purred, "oh applecake, i'm far from done with you," he purred, nuzzling his cheek against your inner thigh, his eyes dark as he glanced up at yours.

fuck, you were in for a ride tonight.

—🦢—

[888-fr]

WHY I DON'T RETIRE MY SKINS: an essay

Disclaimer that I'm speaking from a point of being established here, because not everybody can afford to run their skin shop like I do. I don't judge less established artists for needing to limit their skins because they can't afford to print a run with only 2 people on it. I'm also not judging anybody who does retire their skins after a set number of prints - whole different matter! I'm giving an opinion piece based on my own personal thoughts about running my own skin shop.

Okay, now that's out of the way. I really dislike the idea of time-limiting my skins. There's just no actual justification for me, as an established skin artist, to limit skins I know will sell... aside from prestige, and putting buying pressure on my customers. So there's a couple of reasons I don't like that:

1) Erodes trust in the artist.

Yes, I could probably make more money if I kept my skins limited so people HAD to pick up my skin on release. Maybe even all 4 colors of the skin, including the one they don't really keep in their hoard. Just in case they want it down the line but it won't be available anymore.

Is this good business practice though? Do I want people to start feeling panicked every time I ping for a release, because they just picked up a new project and really really CAN'T afford to be buying skins right now but there's 5 colorways of my skin available and they'll probably be resold for 2kg as soon as they retire?

Personally, no! I want people excited when I ping, not feeling dread in their hearts and budgets. I want people to be thinking: 'Awesome, a new skin! I can't afford that right now but I know he always keeps a few on the AH at print price even after preorders end. Even if I can't buy a skin just this moment, I'll be sure to keep an eye on his thread for when I have gems again.' Or: "Awesome, a new skin! This one doesn't appeal to my lair aesthetic, so I will just nod and smile. I don't feel the need to buy it in case it gets popular for resale, because it will always be on the AH for print price."

People tell me about unsubscribing from GASP because they get anxiety being pinged for skins they want but can't have. So I want people to stay on my pinglist because there's no pressure on them whatsoever to purchase anything. It'll always be here, okay? In the meantime, just enjoy the art, maybe preview it on a scry or two. I'll be here if you're back in three weeks, or three months.

2) Passive income!

I lied. I probably would've made less money time limiting all my skins than by keeping my skins restocked. A couple of reasons for this:

- My earlier skins sold worse. This isn't psychology, it's just numbers. Some of my most popular stock were made early on in 2021/2022. I didn't have that many sales then, so could you imagine if I had retired them immediately after that? There's 230something copies of SAILOR'S WARNING out in the world right now. If that skin was time limited after preorders died down, I would've sold "only" 50 forever.

- People see my shop stock whenever you ping for a new releases. I get 3-4 sales off auction house whenever I release something new and people check my front page. It's not a lot but it's consistent.

- It's a win-win situation, okay? If a skin is popular, there's no reason to time limit it to drive up sales. If it IS popular, then people are going to see it on other people's dragons, go "damn that's a nice skin," and maybe do an AH search for it. And if there's a cheap print price copy available, they're gonna buy it.

2) Reprints are easy!

It was a lot more annoying to keep track of queue numbers and inventory back when reprints had to go through regular queue for a week. Did I put in 10 copies of SUNHEAVEN already? Wait, are my kitsune aethers back yet? How many of MOLOCH are still listed?

Now I can put in a blueprint and get my reprint instantly. No fuss at all.

3) I don't want to buy into the 'this is a retired skin' hype...

This is just personal preference. It makes me feel a little bad when a public skin I made is popular and people can't afford to have it. I'm not judging anybody who does like it when their skins are rare, special, and sought after.

It's just... I get that part of my brain scratched from my customs. They're gorgeous, they're 5 prints, they're on the AH for 30kg if you really want one. Most importantly they're niche and high coverage enough that even if someone hadn't paid me to draw an exclusive skin specifically for their dragon, they'd never do well as a public skin anyway.

Here are some tips for people looking into keeping their skins unlimited:

- You don't need to do it like I do.

Blueprints are expensive. Even I don't have my entire catalogue stocked, only the ones I noticed always have reprint requests. For example, only SAILOR'S WARNING out of 4 total colors for my impm skins is kept stocked because the others don't sell enough to justify it.

If you can't afford to stock them 10 at a time, have the customer provide the blueprints. Shelving your skins but having them be reprintable with a BP and a fee (350g is good for 850g print prices; remember, 500g of that went to you purchasing blueprints in the public run, so it doesn't make sense to charge customers a whole 850g when they're already providing the blueprint) is a good alternative to permanently retiring your skins. You don't get a ton of people who can afford that, but the option is there for people who want it.

- Notice which skins sell!

If you already have a good amount of skins in catalogue and have trouble figuring out which ones to begin stocking, you can start by checking in with your pinglist. Poll them and see which ones you'd want to rerun.

- Don't have so many recolors.

It's a law of the universe that they more recolors you have, the worse they sell collectively. I usually do 2, no more than 3. If you have to time limit your skins to get 6 recolors to hit print, then it's time to cut those recolors down.

There's reasons for this: it's choice paralysis, people may want 'complete sets' and will skip out if you're making that complete set cost 4kg total, and it just plain doesn't make sense for very similar color schemes to cover 4 different skins. Feel free to print personal recolors or have custom recolors open.

[thephooka]

Happy Webcomic Day! My webcomic White Noise is a labor of love--according to Procreate, this page took me 15.5 hours to complete.* Here's a look into that process!

Some other notes:

The thumbnails are done on graph paper and I script while I do them--there is no separate written script for White Noise. I usually spent a couple hours on weekends as needed thumbnailing, sometimes at a coffee shop or at home listening to records.

I then set up the file in Photoshop, so I can lay in the text and use the template I have with bleeds already set up. The text is rasterized and I shuttle the file over to my iPad via Airdrop.

The bulk of the actual work is done in Procreate, which records timelapses that I sometimes share to my Patreon. I usually spend a couple hours most nights after my day job or on the bus commuting doing this.

Once everything art-wise is done, I shuttle the file back over to my desktop to re-set in the text, add a stroke around the speech bubbles (Procreate doesn't have that took fsr) and do the resizing/exporting for web.

On Sunday mornings I get up, queue the page and write the page descriptions. I don't spend any time on the page descriptions outside of that.

Also, this process goes for the whole first arc of White Noise. I'm done with that arc (which means you can binge the whole thing I'm js!!) and am experimenting with some different methods these days, but my workflow is still generally the same.

*Some more talk about the labor (and burnout) involved below the cut:

This particular page (and most of the pages I did in 2023) took a lot longer than normal because I was heading into a burnout period that I'm still lowkey in/recovering from. It's obvious to me now in retrospect watching the timelapse here and seeing how much noodling I'm doing and how much I'm struggling with the process, but at the time I was just very frustrated generally. When I'm not burned tf out pages take maybe 10 hours max.

2023 was a pretty stressful year--lots of big life changes, uncertainty, pet death, health issues--so it's no wonder it propelled me into burnout, but it just goes to show that even the slowest and steadiest pace is not sustainable forever. I've been doing one page a week following this general process for over a decade! And I stuck to that pace because I knew it was one I could maintain. But even so, by the end of this arc I found myself working more and more slowly, not really looking forward to the work, feeling anxious about being behind, unhappy with the finished work, and extremely annoyed with myself for not being able to give it my all right there at the finish line.

I did stop for a while after the epilogue and took a more or less complete break from drawing for about a month--the longest I have EVER gone without drawing, much less working on White Noise--which did help, but these days my ability to work is...inconsistent. I should probably take another total break, but I'm reluctant. What if my passion never comes back? What if people forget about WN? It's already pretty obscure, and with the general social media collapse, it's harder than ever to get people to read my work. Now that I've left Hiveworks, WN doesn't even get the benefit of being linked to other comics (although objectively very, very few readers actually got referred to my comic that way.) And frankly, I'm also just too proud to go too long without comic updates. I've always told myself, I might not be the best artist or the fastest worker or make a popular comic, but I'm consistent. Difficult to let that go.

This is all to say that webcomics are hard. We do them because we love them, we have stories to tell, we are seized with the human compulsion to create. We spend hours of our time, almost always on top of the paying work that allows us to eat, to make something that we then give away for free. It has consequences on us that the reader doesn't often see, no matter how careful we are about it. If you ask me, webcomics deserve to be valued more.

Happy Webcomic Day! Read webcomics!

[ratherembarrassing]

2024: weeks 36 through 38

here are some things i had thrown into a note

beetlejuice beetlejuice (2024). cute! enjoyable but not mindblowing, but representative of a the middle class of films that no longer exists and which i miss dearly.

corridors of power (bbc, 2024). i'm still making my way through it, but if you're excited by seeing formerly powerful people say absolutely batshit crazy things about the exercise of that power, this might be for you too.

maria abramovich's this or that for GQ germany.

and now: LONDON (a chronological series of happenings)

airplanes: still miserable. i do think that we need to rethink international airtravel, because 23 hours in a plane is just ridiculous. nonetheless, in keeping with tradition, i had a pretty good 8-9 hours sleep, which i measured by having hotd on and every few hours waking up to wonder what all the screaming was about.

immediately spent money on clothes: it could not be helped. i've been staying walking distance from brick lane and these things happen. now i own a levis jacket that's as old as i am that fits me perfectly, as god intended.

food: part 1. took my cousin, who is also in london on holiday rn, to dishoom, per literally everyone's recommendation. you were all entirely correct.

food: part 2. abuelo in marylebone, served me some vanilla fig jam on a plate of random other foods that was, without exaggeration, the most delicious thing i have ever eaten. i literally asked if i could buy a jar. i could not, and i will feel sad about this for the rest of my life.

punished for the crime of being interested in a crime: the british museum. the parthenon room was closed, so what even was the point. anyway, i was generally unimpressed, with some exceptions (who amongst us is not moved by the existence of the rosetta stone, also a very good prints and drawings exhibition). but also my god, would it kill them to install some aircon (a sentiment i have felt applies to almost everywhere i have been in london thus far)?

very far away: kingsmeadow. opening week for my beloved chelsea, i could have wept from happiness. sat next to a local woman and her husband who come every week and talk about the team like they are each girl's parents and biggest stans, and it was entirely perfect.

did i mention: CHAPPELL FUCKING ROAN. yes, i queued for like five hours. i was 68th in the priority queue, which is behind the vips but in front of everyone else. all i did to get in that queue was buy an o2 sim card for £20, which i needed anyway. it was fun, everyone made friends, you could come and go as you pleased and we all made sure everyone got their spot back even as we were repeatedly shuffled up the side street behind the brixton o2. it was nice and wholesome and exactly what you would expect from the 99% of people who aren't assholes and also into this lovely woman. the rest is just a blur of askldhjalsk. objectively, she's not the best performer going right now, the show's not overly produced beyond a set list of songs and a bit of banter, and absolutely none of that matters in the face of how quietly charismatic she is and the absolutely insane set of pipes she's got. it was fucking intense, man. zero regrets about the time and money (oh my god, the money) it took to make this happen, delighted to have corrected my grievous mistake of choosing not to go to her show in melbourne last year.

i don't think my insurance covers this: ebiking across north and east london. first attempt was, uh. ill conceived, and i will never recover from seeing my phone go flying in one direction into the street as i went skidding along in the wet, still in the bike lane. phone's fine, i'm fine, not sure why i decided today was the day to ride a bike for the first time in 15 years. second attempt went much better.

sportsball 2: this time bigger! like the absolute turncoat that i am, i also went to arsenal's opener at emirates with 40k other people. sat next to a woman with her 13 year old daughter who come every few months and who noted early on, pointedly, that it was unfortunate we weren't sitting on the other corner, where we would have been closer to the WAGs. love this mum for this kid.

food: part 3. i just ate the most delicious burger i've ever eaten, wtf???

coming up: i fought a battle with booking.com, and i won, and tomorrow i'm off down the south coast for a few days. LA's roads didn't kill me, but london's might.

[resowrites]

Waterloo - oneshot.

Summary: Speculation abounds about his wife's pregnancy and Henry finally has enough…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, angst, banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2034

A/N: This was supposed to go up last week but time got away from me. Please note: as I've tried to write this story as both standalone oneshots and an ongoing series, I now have to use more imagery to flesh out this arc and I'm aware this may disappoint some of you. But I want you all to know, whether you're a regular reader of mine or not, I will always adore and support you no matter who you are or what you look like. Please also note: this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. Love you guys ~ R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Waterloo - oneshot.

Henry couldn't help but smile when he reentered the living room and saw her lying there. They'd walked the dogs only twenty minutes before and she was so exhausted she'd collapsed on the sofa the moment they got home. He watched as her chest rose steadily with every breath, with her legs tucked up and a hand cupping the base of her stomach. Luckily her morning sickness had lessened and the worst symptom her pregnancy was causing at that moment was bouts of extreme tiredness. He was loathe to wake her, especially as he had difficult news to share. Seeing her so soundly asleep reminded him of how vulnerable she was and his chest stirred with a mixture of anger and worst of all - guilt. "Ollie, it's dinnertime, can you wake up for me?" He rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her slowly. But her eyes burst open and she bolted upright.

"M-mmm what time is it?"

"Six o'clock darling, you fell asleep after our walk. I thought you'd like some dinner, you can join me in the kitchen if you're up to it?" She blinked at Henry several times, still trying to get her bearings.

"Yeah, okay, just help me up…" He smiled lovingly and took her by the hands. "What are we having? If you want I can drive to the deli and pick us up a couple of subs?" Henry vigorously shook his head.

"No, it's fine darling, I'm going to make something. Besides, you need to rest. There's… also something we need to discuss." As if on queue, his phone pinged for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. Henry tried to ignore it and offered her a reassuring smile. But her mouth set into a frown.

"What is it? Are your Mum and Dad okay?!"

"Yes sweetheart, it's nothing like that. Come on, let's have something to eat first." He attempted to lead her into the kitchen but she held fast.

"Henry, you're worrying me. What is it?" He gazed into her eyes for a few seconds and sighed.

"Look, I really didn't want to bring this up—"

"Bring up what?! Just tell me!"

"Okay, okay… you know we went shopping yesterday and you thought someone took a picture of us?" She nodded slowly. "Well, it turns out a picture was taken. And then posted on Twitter." She blinked at Henry several times.

"So? Sometimes people catch us and take photos…"

"Darling, I… things are different now." He reached for her stomach.

"Oh…"

"Look, my publicist's already called me. The picture's everywhere and she wants to know how we'd like to proceed—"

"What? Why?"

"Well, maybe if we're more upfront the speculation will die down and there'll be less interest…" Henry trailed off, unable to read the look on her face. Eventually, she cleared her throat.

"Henry, it really doesn't matter what we confirm and/or how. People are still going to take our pictures and gossip. It's why I didn't want to do anything in the first place - it's not going to make any difference." His head dropped to his chest.

"… I'm so sorry, darling." She cradled Henry's face and gave him a quizzical look.

"What for?"

"For all of it. I wanted to do my best to protect you and I've failed."

"Failed? It's not your fault someone saw us—"

"Yes, but if you were with someone else, you'd have none of this. You could just live your life without being talked about the whole world over." She chuckled.

"Aren't you exaggerating slightly? It's only a small group of people who really cares about this. Besides, we've been together nearly a decade—"

"I know, but that's not how they see it. I'm just scared that this will all escalate now that that picture's out there—"

"But darling that's beyond our control. Besides, it's not like anyone's made any threats… is it?"

"No, but what if they do? I mean I would never want to scare you but you know how unhinged people can be. If anything happens to you I'll never forgive myself." She couldn't help but laugh again.

"Well, for starters we're holed up here most of the time and security aside, we also have two Akita's who aren't exactly fond of strangers. I'm sure we'll be fine…" But he was in no mood for her teasing.

"Darling this isn't funny, I feel beyond awful. You should never have had these sorts of worries, pregnant or not."

"Don't be daft. I wouldn't trade our life for anything. Okay, so it can be a nuisance at times, but what others think isn't important. We have to live our lives, Henry. We were going to be spotted at some point. It's probably better people know now rather than when we're randomly seen pushing a pram."

"I know, I know. But I still feel helpless. It makes me fear for when the baby's actually here. How are they going to cope with being in the public eye? How the hell am I going to keep them safe as well?"

"Well, they won't even be able to find their feet for the first four months—" Henry's face hardened.

"Ollie, this isn't a bloody joke. Once our kid is out there, there's only so much we can do—"

"But that would be the case whether they were the child of someone famous or not. If there's one thing this pregnancy's taught me so far, it's that we can't have total control. Okay, so one day they'll have to learn why people want to meet their dad and take pictures of him, but that's not a bridge we'll have to cross for some time." He was silent for several moments. "Darling, talk to me…"

"It's nothing, it's just… none of it's worth it. Especially now."

"What are you saying?"

"I saying, I'm ready to—"

"Stop right there—"

"No, Ollie. I won't. Sooner or later it'll become the biggest stressor for us as a family. If the two of you aren't being photographed in the street, there'll be times when you're by yourselves - just the thought of what could happen makes me sick to my stomach."

"Darling, we were out in public and you're a public figure. Okay, so it's unfortunate. But it's not like they got a picture of them—"

"And what about when they do? As you said, we can't fully protect them—"

"Well, for starters, the law's on our side. But other than that you're going to have to learn to let this go. What will be, will be." Henry nearly blew his top.

"How can you be so bloody calm about this?! I'm scared that the more pregnant you look, the more invasive people will become. I don't even want people coming up to you, let alone anything else—"

"I've handled that okay in the past haven't I?" He smiled sadly and held her tight.

"Of course you have, and I'm not saying you're some delicate flower but this isn't just about us anymore. I want to do my best for you and the baby and it scares me how terrible people can be."

"Why? Just what exactly are they saying?" Henry didn't know how to respond. She sighed. "Oh sweetheart, it's not your fault."

"Of course it is! And what can I do about any of it? Nothing unless I give it up—"

"Don't be ridiculous, even that wouldn't be enough. Once you're famous, you're famous. We just have to rise above it."

"But I want to respond, let people know they can keep their disgusting opinions to themselves—"

"And has that ever worked in the past? Look, we really will be alright. You have nothing to apologise for or feel guilty about. We have a wonderful life, Henry. We have so many amazing adventures together and we're about to embark on our biggest one yet…" She rubbed his chest but his head hung low.

"I still want you both to have as little stress as possible."

"What will make me less stressed is you promising not to get any more upset by this, okay?” She bit her lip. “And if it makes any difference, I already knew about the picture." Henry’s eyes darted upwards.

"What?!"

"My sister messaged me when she saw it doing the rounds on Instagram. She's blocked the people trying to get more information." His nostrils flared.

"See?! They've already started harassing our family! We've got to nip this in the bud now—"

"Darling, we're damned if we do, damned if we don't. Luckily we have good people around us and they've promised to say nothing—"

"That's not what worries me. Why didn't you say anything?"

"… Because I knew you were already feeling bad and I didn't want to make it worse." Henry's heart ached.

"Oh, darling. You know you can always tell me anything. Just promise me you won't go reading comments—"

"I won't. But… can you be honest about something?"

"Of course."

"… Do I look big?"

"What? Why would you even think that?!"

"Are you sure?"

"Darling, that's the reason they're in a tizzy, they can't tell if you're pregnant or not—"

"Well… soon they'll know for sure."

"Oh Ollie, please promise me you're not worried about that of all things? All this pregnancy has done is make you even more beautiful—" she scoffed.

"Henry, look… we can work out our plans as a family when we need to. But you love what you do, it's who you are and what you've worked so hard for—"

"No, it's not. Finding you made me realise it never has been. Making you my wife, starting a family… that's who I am. What I've always wanted. I'd do anything now, just so long as you and our kid are always near me." She felt a lump in her throat. "Don't you get it ya numpty? I've never seen your eyes look so soft and warm. It's not about me missing out - I love doing nothing with you Ollie." She swallowed back her tears.

"Well, let's just wait until they're here, okay? Then we can go from there. But I promise you, I'm not worried about that picture, and neither should you be." His head sunk again.

"… They had no right to even take it." She then shot him a mischievous look.

"Well, was it at least enough to distract from the size of my arse?" Henry softened and quickly turned her around.

"Hang on, lemme take a look—" she spun back and thumped him on the arm.

"Don't you start now, mister - I only have so much bloody patience!" Henry's eyes quickly lost their playful spark. "Well, if things get that bad… you could always do a naked calendar. That'd give them something else to talk about—"

"A naked calendar?! You do realise I'm far too hung to appear in-frame?" She clucked her tongue.

"Oh please, the photographer would need more Vaseline for the lens than what's currently in production…" His eyebrows hit the ceiling.

"What are you trying to say?! You're no bloody prize either!" She thwacked Henry on the arm.

"At least they wouldn't be swapping out the lens every thirty seconds—" He gasped.

"Well, I'm surprised that person's phone didn't explode when they took that picture!" Her mouth fell open.

"Oh yeah?! Cos I'm shocked anyone even bothers to take their camera out to snap you—" Henry couldn't stand it any longer and pulled her in for a kiss.

"… Then let me take my shirt off and we'll see just how well I photograph—"

"No fucking thank you! I don't want to be put off that dinner you said you were going to make. In fact, you can now take me out for it—"

"Will a drive-thru be alright?"

"No, it bloody well won't you little bollocks! You know, just for that, you can take me to the new Italian on Harpin Lane—"

"But they won't even do spaghetti there!"

"Tough shit. You should have thought about that before you opened your mouth—"

"Well, from now on I definitely won't be!"

"Good! More breadsticks for me!"

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira

[poorlittlegreenie13]

20 odd years after Van & Tai broke up, on a random weekday, Taissa gets a call to her office phone. When she picks up, Natalie is on the other line, asking if Taissa is alone. Tai braces for the worst, closing her office door and trying to prepare herself for whatever it is Natalie’s about to say.

“It’s Van,” Natalie tells her, “she just got charged with manslaughter in the state of Ohio, she needs a lawyer.”

Queue Taissa panicking, because her and Van have not spoken in decades, and while Taissa may have graduated first in her class at Columbia, her degree was in civil law—she’s not totally confident in a criminal case.

Still, she obviously drops everything and drives across the country to Van, who she finds sitting in a county jail cell with a black eye and bruised knuckles.

“Other guy looks worse,” Van says with a wry smile the minute she spots Taissa, but her smile drops and she shakes her head. “I told Natalie not to call you.”

“Can you afford another lawyer?” Taissa asks, familiar worry rushing back in as she looks at Van, older and different, but still so terrifyingly the same. Taissa can’t suppress the old instinct to reach out and brush her fingers across the bruise on Van’s cheek.

“You’re not gonna get me out of this one, Tai,” Van says. “It was a bar fight. There are witnesses.”

“Did you start it?” Taissa asks.

Van raises an eyebrow. “Course not,” she says. “Just… got a little carried away finishing it.”

Taissa clears her throat, mind snapping back to all the countless seminar hours she spent reviewing every facet of a good narrative argument. “You’re a visible lesbian in suburban Ohio,” she says. “You have a history of severe mental trauma, you have character witnesses who can speak on your behalf. We can claim self-defense, coupled with acute mental distress aggravated by a violent confrontation. You’re gonna be fine, Van. You’ll get court-mandated counseling, at worst, and maybe that’ll be for the best anyway.”

“I can’t pay you, Tai,” Van says, taking a step back from the bars that are separating them. “And you’re not doing this for free.”

“Why not?” Taissa asks, frustration creeping into her tone.

“Because friends do things for free,” Van says. “And we’re not friends anymore, Tai, we’re not anything.”

Taissa sets her jaw in annoyance.

“I’m not letting some public defender glance over your file and plead this out,” Taissa says. “You’ll do jail time, Van. You’ll lose your store.”

Van looks away from Taissa, staring at her shoes, scuffing one toe against the ground.

“Let me do this, Van,” Taissa says, voice low. “Please.”

She can see Van considering it, chewing on her lip, silently seeming to weigh her options.

“Van, my marriage is falling apart,” Taissa says, not even sure why the words are coming to her, but speaking them anyway. “My kid is scared of me, my wife thinks I’m crazy. And maybe I am. I mean, how many people would hear about someone they love beating some scumbag to death in a bar and not bat an eye? I know you, Van, we know each other, no matter how much time goes by. Just let me do this for you, please. I could only stay away all this time cause I knew you were alright here. I couldn’t sleep at night if you were locked up in some penitentiary.”

Van looks up at her, eyes glassy. Taissa holds her breath. After a minute, Van nods.

“I’m gonna post your bail, okay?” Taissa says. “And then I’ll drive you home and we can go over your statement together.”

Again, Van nods.

She spends that night with her head in Taissa’s lap, absolutely furious at herself for caving that easily. It’s just been a long few days, alright?

Tai wraps up Van’s bruised knuckles and makes her ice her black eye, both of them pretending it isn’t almost unbearable being around each other like this and not talking about everything that went down between them years ago.

Taissa stays the week, going over Tai’s files and frantically serving the court order after order about the gross mishandling of Van’s arrest and the evidence against her. She stays up most nights working. Van can’t sleep either. Somewhere along the way, they start talking to fill the time.

It turns into a year and a half of Taissa spending half her time in Ohio on Van’s couch (and occasionally, when Van’s nightmares get too bad, in her bed), preparing for a weirdly low profile manslaughter trial that no one quite understands why she’s so fixated on. Simone eventually leaves her & goes off to live her best life without Taissa’s crazy ass (affectionate). Tai barely notices her wife leaving her cause she’s too busy falling back in love with her ex girlfriend who cracked a grown man’s skull with her bare hands.

Tai wins the trial, obviously, and Van walks away with no charges. Tai and Van make out in a court house bathroom immediately after they get the verdict. Then they move in together somewhere between Ohio and New Jersey. Taissa loves her murderer girlfriend so much <3 & Van loves her pitbull defense attorney girlfriend more than anything <3. The end.)

[strangerquinns]

Deadly Reunion|Chapter 9

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you’re left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home. // zombie apocalypse Hawkins set in 1993

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues

word count: 

⪻ previous chapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist

A week.

It had been a week since Eddie watched you walk away from him.

And you still weren’t talking to him.

Not like he hadn’t been trying. It seemed that any time he went looking for you, he’d just missed you.

The first couple of days the fear gripped Eddie’s heart like a vice and grew tighter when he couldn’t find you anywhere in the Camp. When he stopped by the room you shared with Robin, conveniently, you were gone. But the third day when he walked in with Gareth to the cafeteria for breakfast – he instantly found you.

You were sitting at a table with Robin but looked to be within your own mind as you pushed around the food on your tray. Your head was downcast as everyone else at the table around you talked lively. Eddie stood there frozen for a moment. But another part thought he was hallucinating since no one else seemed to interact with you.

Like his fear of losing you had manifested you in front of him.

Your head turned up slightly before your eyes stayed on him. They widened for a quick second before that deep seated rage returned to your eyes. The spark within them made him flinch back slightly. No matter how much Eddie wanted to go to you. He didn’t.

“Damn,” Gareth spoke from beside him, “She’s really fuckin’ pissed at you.”

Eddie sighed deeply at his friend's words, before turning and heading toward the queue to grab some breakfast. The line moved quickly and soon he was sitting at his usual table with Gareth and a few others.

But here is now, days after that, and still hating that you weren’t talking to him.

A part of him was pissed at Gareth for telling you the truth. For beating him in informing you about him and Sarah. It was a topic he wasn’t ready to talk about with you – yet. Her death was still too fresh in his mind. The guilt over it still gnawing away at his heart so much that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He might not’ve be in love with Sarah, but he still cared deeply. She was also his friend. Someone he’d known nearly his entire life. And like everyone else in his life. She was taken away from him.

Just like you had been all those years ago. The only difference was that he was the one to push you out of his life.

But he got a second chance and it seemed that it was already ruined.

Eddie still thought of that night on your birthday. As you lay with your head in his lap mumbling sweet nothings of love. Finally saying the words, he ached to hear.

But Eddie knew there was no one else to blame but himself for hurting you.

“Chief says we need to head out for another run,” Steve spoke, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts and back to the present.

Eddie sighed deeply and rubbed at the scuff along his jaw that had been growing over the last few days. “We just did a run, what do we need now?”

“Medical supplies,” Steve spoke, resting his hands on his hips. The black you’d given him was starting to fade, only soft yellows and greens around his eye and nose left behind. “Also, we gotta start prepping for the colder months when we’re not gonna go out as much.”

Eddie nodded his head, “Alright, I’ll meet you upfront. Let me grab my gear.”

Eddie’s body already felt tired at the thought of leaving the camp again. Hopper had them going out more and more for supplies that he could’ve sworn they had enough of. Trips were becoming longer, and they were venturing out farther. Hawkins was nearly tapped clean of any valuable supplies for them, so the surrounding towns were their only source. But that was depleting.

But how much longer do we have to keep living like this? Eddie asked himself.

Eddie didn’t take long to grab his pack and a few supplies. He wasn’t sure how long they would be gone, so he over-packed slightly. He grabbed his leather jacket knowing the nights would be cold, along with his bandana. The last thing he grabbed was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that he slipped into his back pocket.

One of the things Eddie wasn’t expecting as he walked into the front lobby…was you.

You stood toward the outer side of the group when he walked through the doors. You were back in the clothes that he’d found you in. Your eyes met the moment he walked upon the group and that flare of anger was still there. But Eddie couldn’t stop the words that came out of his mouth.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eddie spoke, his dark brows pulling tightly together as his eyes glared down toward you.

Your back straightened as you turned to him more, “Excuse me?”

Your tone was tight with a slight hiss to it. Eddie recognized that tone. But even knowing he was pushing himself down a deeper hole with you – he didn’t stop.

“What are you doing here?” He asked again, looking around to see everyone was looking toward the two of you in confusion. “You’re not coming with us.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t realize that I need your permission.”

“Hopper assigned her to her tasks, Munson,” Robin spoke, stepping up to stand beside you. Her arms crossed at her chest as she glared at him. "She's part of the supply run crew now."

It took three seconds and observing your body language with Robin to quickly see you two have become closer. It was really a shock since  Robin was your roommate. But that only pissed Eddie off more.

“I don’t fuckin’ care what Hopper assigned her, go, and tell him to change it.” Eddie stepped toward you, his frame looming over you. “You’re not coming with us.”

Eddie’s voice dropped as he spoke that last part, a slight pleading coming into his eyes. You had to remind yourself not to give in, that you were still mad at him. That those large, dark eyes weren’t going to crack the hardened shell you placed around yourself.

“I didn’t ask, nor want, your permission of what I can and can do, Eddie.” You stepped closer to him, looking directly into his eyes and speaking next so only he could hear. “You lose that when you decided to lie to me.”

A part of you could've sworn that a deep flash of pain moved through Eddie’s eyes. But you didn’t give yourself too much time to see, as you pushed around him and moved to stand on the other side. Eddie stood standing in his spot, unmoving, as tension moved through the lobby. It was Steve who cut the tension, clearing his throat to pull everyone back to him.

“We’re going on a supply run for the medical wing. We’re heading out farther towards Redding, a spot we have hit before, and didn’t clear. It’s gonna take a few days so we need to move quickly, we need to move fast.” Steve spoke with clear authority and leadership in his tone. “Now let’s head out, we don’t want to lose light before get to the first camp point.”

One by one the group started to file out of the building and toward the front gate. Steve walked to the front of the group leading the way with someone else close behind him. You learned his name was Mike and he was Nancy’s older brother. He was far from the little kid that you knew from running around the neighborhood. You walked more toward the middle with Robin, Nancy, and Nancy’s boyfriend Jonathan. Another person you met in the week you’d been at the camp.

But behind you, you felt him. His eyes are at the back of your head causing your spine to straighten. You fought with yourself to not look back toward him. To not acknowledge him any more than you already have.

Instead, you kept your eyes forward as you prepared yourself to head out into the world you just found safety from.

-x-x-x-x-

“So, what is going on with you and Munson?” Robin asked, the two of you walking side by side as the group moved through the overgrown woods surrounding Hawkins.

“We’re supposed to be sweeping the area,” You spoke, your gun raised slightly, ready if needed, as your eyes moved through the area looking for a sign of anything.

Have it be a Flayed.

Have it been human.

Either was dangerous.

“I can multitask,” Robin spoke with a soft laugh, “Come on…it’s like suffocatingly tense between you two,”

You sighed deeply, “I found out he lied...kept something from me, and that’s all I’m really going to say about it.”

“Does it have anything to do with your reaction to knowing you’re in Sarah’s old bed?”

You stopped for a moment and shot her a look, before shaking your head and moving further through the area Steve wanted you to sweep.

But Robin took your silence as a sign to continue.

“I know you said the two of you were friends and stuff, but your reaction to finding her stuff tells a little more. Which, ya know, I get if you don’t want to share. You barely know me, and we are only starting to become friends…but I am here…if you wanna talk.”

You stopped for a moment, lowering your gun slightly, “Thank you, I appreciate that, Robin.”

Robin smirked, “What are roomies for?”

There was no denying that over the last few days, Robin had greatly grown on you.

“I don’t see anything, do you?” a voice spoke as they walked upon the two of you, Nancy coming into view as she walked closer.

“Nothing.” You answered quickly, moving to holster your gun into the back of your jeans. “Anyone else?”

“No.” Nancy sighed sweeping her curls from her face, “The others found an abandoned home, thinking of camping out there? Catch some shelter since night is dropping.”

You nodded your head and quickly followed behind Nancy and Robin to head toward the shelter for the night. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes aware looking out for any danger. Your body didn’t relax till you came upon the small home that was tucked within the woods.

When you approached the small home, you quickly noticed how the forest around it was quickly reclaiming it. Moss grew along the sides giving the white siding more of a dirtied look. Mud caked along siding and windows. The front door was surprisingly still attacked but a few of the windows were blown out. It would do for the night. Steve and Eddie were securing the perimeter with Jonathan when you and the others approached.

You didn’t miss the quick glance Eddie sent your way as you walked past him. It was a mix of a few emotions, the one you caught quickly in the depth of his brown eyes was fear and sorrow. But with your emotionless mask still, in place, you walked by and said not a word.

“Night’s falling quickly, let’s get settled inside, get something to eat, and rest. Munson and Buckley, you have the first watch.” Steve spoke, strapping his rifle back across his back. “Not sigh of flayed, think we’re deep enough for cover.”

Eddie nodded his head slightly and moved his glace quickly back over to you. You were standing with Nancy and Robin right outside the home. Your face brightened slightly as you laughed at something Robin said. Again, that flare of anger and jealousy came back up, simply causing your attention as on someone else and not him. Steve caught the tension between the two of you, it was hard to miss especially with how you two were before the group left. And he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Eddie.

“She’ll come around, man,” Steve spoke, so that only Eddie would hear, digging through his bag in search of some jerky he’d packed earlier. “Whatever fight you’ve got going on will be resolved and you’ll be best friends again.”

“I don’t know. I…I fucked up, and…I don’t know how to make it better. It’s like I know her, but I don’t at the same time.” Eddie spoke, shaking his head slightly and rubbing his tired eyes.

“You’ll figure it out,” Steve spoke with more confidence than Eddie was feeling at the moment.

Everyone quickly began to fall into the roles and routine of a campout. You unrolled your sleeping bag and settled in the living room along with Nancy and the others. But even as you tried to lay down and catch some sleep, your mind wasn’t allowing you.

Instead, it was too focused on the fact Eddie was outside on the lookout with Robin at the moment. You stared up at the peeling paint on the ceiling hoping for sleep to take over. It wasn’t long till you cursed under your breath and stepped out into the front of the home again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Robin’s voice came from above. You turned quickly to see her on the roof, gun in hand.

“Why are you on the roof? And second, is that even safe?”

“Most likely not, but I get a better vantage point. Plus I’m lighter weight than Munson.” She spoke with a smirk, “Now why are you up?”

“Can’t sleep. Thought I could be useful.”

“Munson in circling the perimeter, sure he could use the company and a second eye.” Robin’s lips turned up slightly with a mischievous grin before turning and continuing her pace on the roof.

“Fuck,” You whispered, before grabbing your gun from your back, checking your ammo, and then sliding it into the back of your pants. Tucked between your back and the waist of your pants. You also made sure to check your cargo pockets for your knife, before moving to find Eddie.

Didn’t take long to find his tall, lean frame moving between the shadows of the trees. The moon bleeds through the tops of the trees and creating a silver glow. Your footsteps were light, Eddie not noticing you till you were nearly on top of him.

“Jesus…” He cursed the moment he turned to head back in the opposite direction, only to see you. “…what the fuck,”

“Isn’t the whole purpose of patrolling being, to be aware of your surroundings?” You spoke, deep sarcasm in your tone.

Eddie sighed deeply, “I didn’t hear you.”

Your brows shot up, “No shit. Good thing I wasn’t a bad guy.”

“My mind been a little all over the place, wasn’t…paying attention.”

You rolled your eyes and moved to head back in the other direction, grabbing your gun in case anything was to happen. In a few passing seconds, Eddie was soon in pace beside you. The silence was thick and uncomfortable as the two of you walked side by side.

Eddie was the first to talk.

“Can we talk about the other night, please?” He asked, his voice soft and timid. The complete opposite of earlier in the day.

“There is nothing to talk about.”

Eddie flinched slightly, internally, from the harsh finality of your tone.

“There is a lot to talk about, a lot that you don’t know.”

“I know enough.” You looked at him slightly, before turning quickly back to scan the forest. “You kept it from me, Eddie. Purposefully. And don’t lie to me and say you didn’t.”

“I wasn’t,” Eddie spoke quickly.

You stopped for a moment and looked at him. Even with just the moon for light, you could see his face. He was being sincere. That remorsefulness was back in his eyes and causing his brow to pinch together slightly.

“I really don’t want to talk about this. You and Sarah were allowed to do whatever you wanted,”  You spoke, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. “It’s not like you were mine and you cheated on me. I just…just…”

Your mouth opened a few times but no words could form. Eddie moved toward you, till something behind you caught his attention. His back straightened as goosebumps rolled over his flesh. Eddie quickly recognized the staggered, gaunt walk as it moved through the trees severely feet from the two of you. You caught on quickly to the change in Eddie’s body language and knew something was wrong.

“Ed-.”

“Shh,” He interrupted you, keeping his eyes just over your shoulder. “When I tell you to, I want you to head back toward the house, as quietly as you can.” He whispered, his words barely heard.

Your words stopped and choked you as you looked up at him, your grip tightening around your gun. The deep, guttural groan of a flayed soon cut through the tension and instantly made bile rise in your throat. Eddie moved slowly to grab his rifle, cursing any time a noise was made.

It would only take one sound, and the Flayed would know of your location.

It was far away enough to where you had a small chance to get away.

“I’m not leaving you.” You whispered.

“I’m gonna be right behind you, sweetheart.” Eddie spoke, his eyes moving toward you, “Now run.”

You hesitated for only a moment before your instincts kicked in and you were off, running back in the direction of the home. It wasn’t till you were running that you noticed how far you and Eddie had walked from the shelter.

But it hadn’t even been five seconds before the scream erupted from the monster. It had heard you and it was now on the hunt. You couldn’t help the whimper that came from you as the echoing of more screams moved through the forest.

“Run! Fuckin’ run!” Eddie shouted from behind you, the house coming into view. Robin is still perched on the roof.

“It’s a pack! Fuckin’ Flayed” You screamed, pure terror in your tone.

It wasn’t long till gunshots joined in with the screams.

Sooo...that was chapter Nine. please leave a review on your thoughts, predictions of the next, and anything else! I love seeing everyone's comments about how the story is going. Thank you for all your support it means the world to me.

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[aita-polls]

Two quick updates!

I was not feeling good yesterday and had to take some time off work to rest and recover, as such I did not have the energy to queue up any polls yesterday/this morning; my sincerest apology for the delay. More polls will be posted today.

Secondly, on the topic of missing comments on posts, I am still working with Tumblr Support on this. We have most likely figured out why certain comments aren’t appearing, now it’s just a matter of figuring out how to fix it. I should have a resolution for this soon.

In other news, submissions are still open so feel free to drop an ask and it will be posted ASAP!!

Thank you all for your patience!

P.S: Do you guys like having polls last for one week or would you prefer they only be kept open for a day? I have them set to one week currently just in case someone misses a few days but wanted to check back on the polls during the week and still have the opportunity to vote on them but I understand if a submitter for example would want to see the results of a poll sooner.

[subliminalbo]

One Shot #4: The Instrument and the Maestro

Standing on the stage before thousands of raucous fans chanting her name, Amelia clenched the microphone tight to her chest. She wished that she could just live in that moment forever. Wembley was the kind of venue that musicians worked their lives to book but Amelia was only twenty-four. She exhaled. What was next? Her rags-to-riches story had captivated the world. Raised by a single mother in Brooklyn, discovered by her producer. Jack, at a community talent show. Everything else felt like a dream. Her entire career was a haze from which she could pull few distinct memories as her life moved at a thousand miles an hour. Last week she was sixteen, yesterday she was twenty.

All Amelia really knew standing on that stage was that she deserved it. Her voice had always had a way with fans. Jack called it a gift. Their partnership had made her the most profitable solo act in the business. Her albums were often criticized for a lack of risk. There were plenty of takes from Twitter critics about Amelia's early work and her potential to be more than a popstar. It was true that before her partnership with Jack, Amelia had ambitions beyond pop stardom. She wanted to write and compose her own music, but Jack knew the business and a lack of freedom was the price all successful artists had to pay. Of course the negative reviews never stopped her singles from reaching number one on the pop charts. Even when people loathed Amelia, they still couldn't stop listening.

Amelia closed her eyes as the booming synth began to drone behind her. Time was picking up again. And when she opened her mouth and began to sing and her audience disappeared into the hypnotic lyrics of her song, Amelia too began to sink into a familiar trance.

Shortly after the Wembley show, Amelia met in the park for lunch with Jack and demanded to be released from her contract. Jack, surprised and smiling, reminded her that she was at the peak of her career. "You just played Wembley, why on earth would you want anything else?"

"I know Jack," Amelia sighed. "Wembley was great, you're great. But it's not about the money or the fame anymore. I want to make my own art. Like I used to."

"Of course," Jack nodded. "And I let you write a song for Siren."

Siren was the title of Amelia's upcoming album.

"No one should let me do anything. I was fine on my own."

"You were making low quality videos on Youtube. Supporting your mom on Patreon."

"But I had integrity."

For the first time, Jack frowned. "You know I only care about what's best for you. Are you absolutely certain about this, Amelia?"

Amelia shook her head. "When I was up there that night, surrounded by a hundred thousand fans, I...couldn't breathe. It was both so happy and so sad. Because I knew that no matter what I could never top that moment. Do you know what that feels like, Jack?"

Jack offered a sympathetic nod and said, "I just make the music."

"I'm sorry, Jack," Amelia whispered. "But I can't do this anymore."

Jack nodded. Amelia dropped her half-eaten salad into its bag, collected her things, and began to walk away. She heaved a sigh, heavy with both grief and optimism.

Jack, on the other hand, remained seated at the picnic table and calmly pulled out his cellphone. He slowly flipped through his contacts until he found Amelia and dialed. He admired the young starlet as she strutted confidently away. On queue, her phone began to ring, but as she pulled it from her purse, it slipped from her hand and landed uselessly in the grass.

"What..." Amelia mumbled as she stumbled on her feet. The sound of her own music playing back to her, pulling her down, deep into the same trance she'd grown used to performing under.

The trance was Amelia's true trademark, one of the things that set her apart from the other young twentysomethings trying to make it big in the music industry. Amelia had become known for her wild performances in which she lost herself in her own music. She'd admitted in interviews that she often lost track of time during her shows, a phenomenon that even her fans shared in. Many critics credited the trance to Amelia's perfectionism and showmanship.

When Jack approached Amelia, she'd dropped to her knees in submission.

Jack had been a gifted composer his entire life, but he couldn't perform for shit. That was how he got into producing. But after an initial series of failed attempts to break into the industry, he'd taken a chance on a young girl from Brooklyn. With Jack's hypnotic tunes and Amelia's natural talent, they could truly rule the world.

The musician looked up at her producer with those innocent, empty eyes.

"Amelia," Jack sighed. "You've gotta stop doing this."

"I am sorry," she said.

"What did I say last time?" he asked.

"I am the instrument and you are the maestro."

Jack nodded. "You don't want to work without me."

"I could never work without you," Amelia echoed.

"You're powerless without me," he added.

"I am your siren."

Jack placed his warm hand on her soft chin and studied her, checking for any sign rogue disobedience. One again pleased with his work he said, "Let's get back to the studio now. Especially before some paparazzo spots us."

[inhayara]

A Day in the Life Of

something I wrote instead of procrastinating.

***

:begin:

m = 2kg

a is constant

no friction → closed energy system

PEg = PEs (?)

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fnet = …

Bzzt! karelyn.velaii messaged you on instagram.

Tak, tak-tak tak tak tak.

Haha. No, no, you’re supposed to be working. You’ll talk to her later. Exit the conversation.

Exit the a- “Someone wrote a fanfiction about me. You guys, I have to read this-”

“Personally I think the phrase “it’s okay to not be okay”-”

“POV: you walk up to the register in full cosplay-”

“Girls literally post on their instagram-”

“Why is it always “girl spill the tea” and never-”

“I think it’s time we do something about the straight man population yall-”

“Old people are always like “oh back in my day there was no autism”- “

A phone crashes against a pillow. You crash back with it.

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fn- You should probably move those stickers. And that notebook. And the other one- no wait, you need it for transferring assignments to your to-do list. Why are there so many gum wrappers on your desk?

No wait, Fnet- those gum wrappers have to go. In the kitchen, in the kitchen… Ah, water! Only now you realize how dry your tongue is. Obviously, water. What a silly thing to forget. You set the gum wrappers down and pour yourself a glass.

The water jug needs refilling. You turn the tap on and see the dishes in the sink. It’s filthy – and you hate washing dishes, but you know that you haven’t done much in the way of chores these past few days, so you know you should contribute somehow, and anyways you have this pressing, needling, restless urge to do anything other than what’s waiting for you when you get back. Which is- er, something. Doesn’t matter what – dishes now.

The dishes are done, and they rest sparkling clean on the drying rack. You smile at a job well done.

Alright, back to work. You exit the kitc- gum wrappers accuse you from the counter top.

Right.

Gum wrappers.

They go in the dustbin. You know if you tried separating them for recycling, you might spend another half hour here. Or had it been twenty minutes? You would check, but your watch is in the other room – which you need to go to, anyways.

Back at the desk. Three notebooks lie haphazardly stacked – one for writing, one an agenda, and one that tracks progress with stickers. There is one date written, and two stickers. The date is from last week.

You sit at your desk.

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fnet- Maybe you just need to change assignments. Something less daunting, like history or Spanish. Surely you can manage Spanish.

You open the assignment- ah yes. It’s missing. You feel a strange dread pool in your stomach, wrap around your throat. You close the assignment.

Back to physics then.

Fnet =

Fnet =

Rereading the problem. Springs… dropped from a height h… speed of the ball…

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fnet =

Fnet = Fs… no that can’t be, erase it.

Fnet =

The notebook cover catches your eye and you think of red hair.

You imagine red hair, and a girl named Emily. She is stubborn, and funny, and far, far away from here.

Ah, but what if she was… You spring to your feet senselessly. You pace unknowingly. You dream of a girl named Emily and fiction you will never write, and you think of praise you’ll never receive and a person you’ll never be, because there are still three notebooks at your desk, one unopened, one with endless work, and one with two stickers and a date from last week. Some progress.

You’re on the carpet now. You check your watch – 9:23 pm. You tilt your chin to the ceiling and sigh.

It’s fine, it’s fine, you just need some – motivation. Rah rah. Energy. Music. Music! You just need some music.

You open a video from a watch later list stuffed with ambience rooms. Elegant jazz, how nice. You close your eyes and imagine – ah, but this one has a better background. Click. Oh, it’s so pretty… there’s no music though. Hm.. Always by Erasure? Well now you have to play it. Oh, and Paisley Park! Add it to the queue. Oh and! Oh and! Oh and…

Every song is an opportunity to get motivated to do work, you tell yourself. You just can’t seem to take them. You avoid looking down at Fnet, and say it’s because you’re waiting for that spark.

You’re dancing when the door opens. Right, bedtime. Time to- bedtime?! You can’t believe it’s this – but you can, but you can, because it always is.

It’s fine. It’s fine. This is still salvageable. You’ll just have to make some sacrifices.

The crisp sound of opening a Celsius. You hope nobody heard, and hide it in your drawer.

There’s a picture of forest fruit on the can, but it doesn’t matter. They all taste the same: cough syrup and desperation.

Fnet =

F- let’s do another assignment, actually. Not Spanish, not spanish… history? You could manage history. At least this one isn’t missing.

Ten minutes of silence. Ten more minutes of silence, punctuated by typing and thoughtful pauses.

Tycoons like Carnegie invigorated the… No that’s not the right word. Motivated? Restructured? No, no – thesaurus.com. Ah thesaurus.com, your old frie- never mind, none of these words fit. Agh, what was the word? It was right at the forefront of your mind, you can feel it- ooh that’s a great sentence. Not for this assignment though. Instead for… you’re pacing again. Your mind somersaults through daydreams of dragons to more fantastical daydreams of admiration and praise. Of a person you could be proud of being. You smile a fool’s smile, and keep pacing.

Sitting on your bed brings you closer to your phone. First mistake. Or hundredth mistake. All the mistakes. They’re the only decisions you make, anymore.

You open it, and scroll.

Second mistake. You stop scrolling. Dread unfurls from where it slept in your stomach and seeps into your blood. You close your eyes, your face to the ceiling. Again.

Come on. One last go. Get up. The bed creaks under your weight.

The computer would have shown you a half-finished history assignment if it hadn’t been left untouched for so long that now it is dark. You click it back to life, and check the time.

2:43 am.

You stare at the screen, and it stares back at you, the black numbers converging into pixels of red and green as your vision blurs. You blink back the tears that are already coming. Too late. Too late, too late, too late…

A tear plops onto the desk, and you follow it with your gaze.

Fnet = .

Another tear falls, and you with it.

Crumpled on the floor, all out of motivation and stickers charts and hope, you whisper three words:

“I give up.”

Tomorrow you will do the same.

:end:

[cazort]

Ugh. Awful day. Six months ago my wife and I bought a washing machine and chose to buy a Speed Queen, which was much more expensive than most other brands, because it had a top-notch reputation and long warranty and we just didn't want to have to deal with breakdowns. This was a tough choice that we did not make lightly. Buying a house was a huge financial burden and my finances are now tighter than they've been in years, and the amount of money at stake matters. We were hoping to buy stability and leave us with one fewer thing to worry about during a stressful life transition.

Well a few days ago, it broke after 6 months, which is irritating enough, but the company has been hellish to deal with. They keep over-promising and under-delivering. Tuesday they said a local service company would reach out to schedule an appointment within 48 hours. Over 72 hours went by with no call. I called again today and the system said the wait time was 1 hour 6 minutes. This is literally the longest wait time I have ever had from any company. I put my number in the queue and they called me back...1 hour 50 minutes later.

The rep was barely helpful. She did not seem to understand the gravity or magnitude of the situation and spoke as if what happened to me was business-as-usual, rather than a rare, once-in-a-blue moon occurence that the company wanted to bend over backwards to fix. She tried calling the contractor and couldn't reach them. She did switch the ticket to a different contractor, who called me back later that afternoon, so now I have an appointment set up for next Thursday.

But I'm upset. I'm upset that I paid over twice the price for what I thought would be a premium product unlikely to break, and with a commitment to outstanding service, and instead I got a company that provides the longest hold times I have ever seen in my life, repeatedly makes promises it fails to deliver on, and reps that have no authority to escalate the issue or do anything to right the situation.

And I still don't know what is going to happen on Thursday. Will the contractor show up? Will they be able to fix it then and there, or will I have to wait days or weeks for a replacement part? Am I going to need to drag our laundry to the laundromat and incur additional costs doing so?

I have already filed a BBB complaint. I would like a partial rebate of the price I paid, because the value I have received is not worth what I paid for. I also am talking about my experience online.

Speed Queen has a top-tier reputation. They are a brand mainly used by laundromats, supposedly made to handle a heavy volume of use and last for many years. But the way they have treated me as a customer makes me feel like I've been cheated and would have done better buying a cheaper brand available at any box store.

I'm a reasonable person. I don't expect top-tier service if I buy a cheap, low-end product. I can even forgive mediocre service. But paying premium prices and then getting unspeakably bad service is just unconscionable to me.

If they had told me it might take a week to get contacted, I would be annoyed but it wouldn't be as bad as saying I would expect a call in a certain time frame and then have that call not come. And I might feel better if they did what most companies do, which is to at least apologize profusely and tell me they are really concerned with what is going on and escalate the situation. Like earlier this week I called my bank about something they messed up and the woman was like "Yeah you are right, the interface is actually really bad. I get why you are upset. We really need to improve that."

Like sometimes that's literally all it takes. Someone saying "Wow, we really messed up. I'm really sorry that sucks so much."

But no I didn't even get that.

And of course if this happens to me I'm gonna talk about it everywhere. So right now I am warning people about Speed Queen. They may have an amazing reputation but my experience with them so far has been awful.

[heresiae]

a while ago someone suggest to me to start reading the Percy Jackson books because I can't stand even the sight of Harry Potter's ones anymore (I'll give the Hogwarts' train Lego set I have been gifted a few years back to my baby cousin in a few weeks) and it's still bothering me because they were a huge part of my teens (started reading them at 14) and my comfort books (they have been ejected from my library together with her other books and I only have to find the will to fully separate myself from them, which is not frigging easy for a bookworm).

they're good. Rick Riordan knows how to write. I kind of miss reading the parts were Percy actually learn how to use his powers but I have to plan the start of a new book because, if I start too late, then it's a 2am bedtime for me (or a use of very strong will).

unfortunately, even if they're good, they will not do the trick of allowing my mind to completely substitute them (when something got integrate in your mind during your formative years, it stays there. not so much with late stuff). luckily though, I got back into Doctor Who a while back and that does the trick better. not when I'm in the mood for reading though (which is like... now. yes, I have my periods. tv shows period is over, it's book time. I guess the next one will be comic books or DIY).

maybe I should finish the Septimus Heap saga (that I started in Italian few years back but they didn't finish translating them, so I should started again in English, which I can do, but it bothers me because I'm an autistic mess xD).

I should also probably finally reading Our Dark Matters in English, the latest two books of Avatar or the 30+ books that are waiting to be read in my queue xD

[askew-ask-q]

Hiya Q!! Wholeroastpotion/Pixelselfships here, though you can call me Reffie or Reff if that's easier!! It's great to finally meet you in person 😊

I've heard a bit about you already from our mutual friend Slep, but I'm still curious! What kind of things do you sell/do at your shop? Are there lots of folks who still buy stationary, even in a digital world? I love writing, it's my biggest passion in life, so you can count me interested in any nice notebooks and pens you may have! Any suggestions? :3

The shop you've entered is quiet, aside from the melodic humming Queue was emitting. The store had just opened after all, and the air was calm with a feint smell of laminated sheets and coffee. The Addison's heterochromatic eyes seem to brighten once you enter, the quiet bell chiming above the door to announce your arrival. Queue remains in a calm lean on the counter but smiles pleasantly as you introduce yourself, waiting patiently as you speak before its eyes soften and it interlocks it's fingers together as it smiles at you "Well firstly, allow me to offically say "hello there", and let me tell you, you are just as delightful as Slep has decribed!"

"I had heard a few things about you as well Reffie, but I had never considered it went both ways.. what a way to warm my cheeks," it chuckles, a pink glow blooming under its glasses before it smiles charmingly, "Everything they said was good, I hope?"

"Now to answer your question, I think you better ask what don't I sell?" it chuckles quietly, straightening up and motioning behind itself. "Why, just here behind me I've more than enough supplies to help another person start their own shop! Staplers, tape dispensers, various types of glue, sticky notes, pens, pencils, calculators.." it rambles, though it is forced to take a breath at the end due to the length of the sentance. "Sometimes the variety gets a bit overwhelming when restocking, but it's good for buisness and it feel strangely euphoric to open a new box filled with supplies."

"Speaking of restocking, my work here is mostly being able to offer anything to anyone." It shifts in it's place slightly, leaning on the counter once more to make itself appear less tall before proceeding "I have a routine for every day, which usually begins with the digital inquiries: replying to any messages, preparing orders to send off, answering questions people may have. After all the digital work it's time for physical work, which I am usually able to breeze through fairly easily, since I have a list to organize stock and restock the shelves easily." Its speech so far was calm, and nonchalant as it explains everything, but it visibly livens up and grins at you as it leans in closer "And once that is all complete it's time for my favorite part: actually opening the store. I can sell all the items, hand over parcels to people who pick them up in person, prepare ink samples for various pens and paints.. A lot of small work to keep me busy."

"You are correct, there aren't that many customers, but I adore the ones that come by often. It feels special to see the artistic souls come back for another set of pencils, to see the same child stop by for another pack of colored origami paper, and the one person that comes here to bind books every week always brings a smile to my face.. I adore all my visitors, no matter how few or many there are," it proclaims in an almost proud manner, gifting you a close-eyed smile.

"And as for your request, I'm certain we can find something to your liking! Forgive me if I get into my "buisness mode", but is there a certain type of pen you were looking for?" it murmurs and slowly but happily proceeds to ask further about your preferences. "I have all sorts of types, from fountain to gel to ballpoint. Perhaps I could even interest you in an ergonomic pen so you may write with utmost confort?"

It sighs and shakes its head with a smile "Oh silly me, here, I think we'll solve this faster if we do this. I feel you would appreciate a nice purple pen, so I must ask you to take these and try writing here on this page. Since it is your first time here, I'll let you take whichever speaks to you most for free," it smiles charmingly and hands you an A5 paper page to write on, along with a selection of pens before resting its head on its hand and observing with a gentle smile. "I'll even give you a bonus correction fluid if you decide to buy a notebook to go along with it."

₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎ ♡ ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎ ♡ ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎ ♡ ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎ ♡ ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎

[blabbin]

honestly i would love to trust you with mae and see what you make with her and micah lol. nymber 8 >:) or classic cunette with number 32!

(OO HERE IS CUNETTE FOR NOW BUT I WILL BE WRITING FOR MAE AND MICAH TOO, GOT A HALF-IDEA BAKING IN THE OVEN)

32 - Nothing's Working Out - meiyo

なにやってもうまくいかない 脳内じゃ戦争だもんね 突っ立ってたって なにやってもうまくいかない 愛して 愛して

[[ Nothing's Working Out It's a war in my head, even if I stand tall Nothing's Working Out Love me. Love me! ]]

Annette stares down at the notebook on her lap with furrowed brows. Her pen was in her mouth, absent-mindedly nibbling away at it - better the pen than her fingers.

She was sitting at the round benches on Saint-Ghislaine next to the coin-operated viewers, just outside the bookstore. It was nice to finally have some time to herself - now that she didn't have to stand outside the bookstore all day anymore.

Not that she's had much free time, to be honest. Instead of 'work' it was 'school work' now. And while she was grateful to be out of the cold... It meant being constantly under her mother's judging gaze.

That's why she was outside again despite not needing to be. The weather wasn't too bad, though - maybe a bit dark and cloudy, but it wasn't as freezing cold as it used to be. She told her mother that she could use the fresh air to focus better on her studies.

Annette had a science textbook next to her on the bench - closed. The real thing she was focusing on was her personal notebook, where she did all her writing; all her fiction stories.

This is a waste of time. You should be studying.

The girl was currently reading through what she had written a week earlier. She remembers that day, when she had written so much - so quickly and fluidly. The words flowed so naturally, the scenes playing in her mind so clearly. So easily...

But now that she was reading it back, it all felt... The only word she could think of was bad. She groans and shuts her eyes tight as she reads a particularly clunky line.

You thought this was good? You wasted your precious time on this?

She sighs and sets down the pen in between the pages before putting down the still-open notebook next to the textbook. She picks up her thermos next to her with lightly bandaged hands and starts to drink.

She didn't know why she was still picking and biting at her nails. Last night was particularly bad. She couldn't stop even when it hurt - even when she bled. She tried really hard to hide the damage this morning, but her mother saw it anyway...

You still haven't got rid of that disgusting habit?

What have you got to be stressed about?! You don't even need to work anymore!

You have got to pull yourself together, Annette.

Suddenly she feels something catch in her throat. She holds an arm up to her face as she starts to cough aggressively. The juice she was drinking seems to have gone down the wrong pipe. As she coughs, she tries to set the thermos down next to her - except she didn't quite place it right and it went off-kilter, spilling all over her notebook.

"Ohh- nonono!!" Annette jumps to her feet, grabbing the notebook and quickly trying to shake it dry, as if that would help.

The thermos was on the ground now, spilling whatever was left into a puddle. The pen had fallen off the notebook, now sitting in the middle of that puddle.

Annette stares at the stained notebook in her hands with a frown. It was wet and sticky, the pages sure to get warped. But it's fine, she can dry it off and clean it...

Almost on queue, a few drops of water start to fall across the pages. She looks up at the cloudy sky... The drip turns very quickly into a shower.

Of course.

She looks back down at the book, drained. She could not will herself to even try to shield it from the rain. The ink on the page was becoming more and more unclear with every drop, bleeding across the paper.

Why does it matter? It's all bad anyway. Half of this is stuff you copied off of other, better books. The other half is barely coherent and poorly written.

Trite. Stupid. Pointless.

Why are you wasting your time on this?

With an angry huff, Annette throws the book back on the bench. She bends down to pick up the thermos from the puddle of juice, now being washed away.

"Damn, what the fuck'd that notebook do to you?"

Annette looks up at the voice, seeing Cuno with an amused look on his face. He had picked up the notebook she'd just thrown and was now flipping through the pages. She hadn't noticed him walking up.

"H- hey!" Annette drops the thermos again as she jumps back on her feet. She attempts to grab the book out of his hands. He keeps stepping backwards and holding his arms up to avoid her. "Cuno, come on! That's- That's my homework, give it back!"

"Maybe Cuno's had a change of heart. Maybe Cuno wants to get into this binoclard shit." He continues to go through the notes as he laughs and circles around the bench. Suddenly, his eyes go wide when he finally pays attention to what's actually written on the pages. "Oooh, wait!! Is this one of the stories you're writin'?"

"Noo, no! It's not!" Her face flushes in embarrassment as she finally manages to grab a hold of the notebook and pulls at it - Cuno doesn't let go. "Just give it back, it's getting all wet!"

"Hey, Cuno was reading that!" Cuno tugs back even harder. He's never been allowed to see any of her writing before, and he couldn't contain his curiosity knowing it was right within his grasp.

"Cuno, let go!" Annette pleads - the both of them in a standstill as they try to gain control of the book.

"Come on- just let Cuno read a page," he insists. Before he could say much else, he takes a few unstable steps backwards trying to regain his suddenly lost balance.

He finds half of the notebook - ripped - in his hands. He looks up at Annette to find her staring at the other half, in her own hands, mouth agape.

"Oh- shit, shit, shit." Cuno loses his amused demeanor, now replaced with guilt. "Uh, Cuno can glue it back probably-"

"It's fine," Annette cuts him off, staring down at the ground in defeat. "I was going to throw it away. Doesn't matter."

The signs couldn't be any clearer than this. Writing wasn't for her, and she needed to stop wasting her time on dead-end hobbies.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Cuno asks, baffled.

The girl doesn't really respond. She just walks up to Cuno and takes the notebook without much resistance from him. She continues walking until she reaches the trashcan near the railings - throwing both halves into it.

"I'm heading back inside." Annette walks back to pick up the rest of her things. "You should too. The rain looks like it's going to get pretty bad."

"Oh, uh, sure," Cuno responds awkwardly at the suddenly tense air, unsure of how to address what just happened - if he even should at all. "You... wanna hang at the shack, then?"

"I have a lot of work to get to," she says apologetically, still not looking up at him. "You know how my mum is..."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he grumbles, failing his attempt to sound neutral. He hated how disappointed he felt whenever she couldn't spend time with him. "Go ahead, before your crazy mom kills you or whatever."

"Right. I'll see you later, Cuno." Annette holds her things close to her chest as she walks past him, going back into the bookstore.

Cuno just frowns as he watches her head off.

*** *** ***

Annette stands in front of Cuno's shack, shuffling in place awkwardly. It was the morning after the whole... mess. She was embarrassed over the whole emotional way she acted - and felt bad for turning down Cuno's request to hang out.

She had the same science textbook in her arms - she was able to convince her mother to let her 'study' outside today too.

"Cuno?" Annette lightly knocks on the shack door. "Are you there?"

It doesn't take long before the door swings wide open,

"Ann! There you are!" Cuno says loudly and excitedly as he steps aside, making way for her to enter.

"Uh, good morning?" She smiles, confused, as she walks in and he closes the door behind her. What's with the loud, impatient energy?

"What happens to that Annice bitch??" He wastes no time on pleasantries - a wide, eager grin on his face.

"Wha-?" Her eyes widen and she freezes in place. That was the name of a character in her story... "How did-?"

"She set up a meeting with the detective and never showed up!" he continues talking as he walks back to the desk, picking up a water-damaged notebook - well, half of one. The other half was still on the desk. "Sounded like she had somethin' real fucking important to say, too. Intense shit. Real cliffhanger shit. You gotta tell Cuno what happens next!"

Annette just blinks, stunned. Her ears grow hot as she finally processes the current situation - he had read her writing. All of it, in fact, because Annice's disappearance was the last thing she wrote.

"You- you weren't- No one was supposed to read that!" she finally blurts out as she clutches the textbook tightly. "Why did you dig it out of the trash?!"

"Look, if you try to hide shit from the Cuno, Cuno's going to get to the bottom of it, whether you like it or not," he says as he flops onto the couch.

Annette goes silent. She didn't really know what to do now. The deed is done, he already read her embarrassing writing, and she can't change that... but he wasn't making fun of her like she expected.

Yes, he is. Obviously he's making fun of you. Look at him. He's laughing at you. He wants to hear just how stupid your ideas can get.

Annette frowns as she puts her textbook down on the desk, picking up the other half of the notebook instead. It was dry now, but a lot of the pages were damaged. "You... you don't have to be sarcastic, you know. I know it's bad, that's why I threw it away."

"Bad?" Cuno scoffs. He seems to grow more irritated as she keeps ignoring his questions. "You think Cuno wastes his time on shitty stories?"

"So... you really like it?" Annette asks, doubtful. Like she's just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the whole prank to be revealed as soon as she believes him.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he groans, rolling his eyes. "Now are you gonna keep whining or what? Cuno wants to hear what you have planned for this shit!"

Annette purses her lips into a straight line as she thinks it over, slowly walking over to the couch and sitting down.

"Well... I can't tell you. That'd spoil it," she finally says, smiling a bit. "What do you think happened?"

Cuno can't help the huge smile that spreads across his face at hearing that - she was going to keep writing.