#oh well i can do that with the rest of the art

[sky-scribbles]

Party banter with Rook!Blackwall

(but it's just the part where he falls in love)

—

Thom: I have to say, Emmrich, you’re not what I expected. Thought necromancers would be all about commanding corpse armies and the like.

Emmrich: (sighs) Whatever depictions of our practice gave you such impressions, I assure you they are inaccurate.

Thom: So there aren’t corpse armies?

Emmrich: The Mortalitasi have not the least interest in conquest. We comfort the bereaved. We speak with our beloved dead, passing on their final messages, ensuring any last requests are met. We soothe the frightened spirit and calm the watchful.

Emmrich: Love is our business, Warden Rainier. How could we possibly be uncaring?

Thom: … Right. Well, that’s me put in my place.

—

Thom: Sorry about what I said earlier. Should’ve known better than to run my mouth about something I don’t know a thing about.

Emmrich: I appreciate that, master Warden. And I apologise if I was oversensitive. I think I was unprepared for how many… opinions everyone outside Nevarra would have about my art.

Thom: Well, I’ll keep mine to myself from now on.

Emmrich: Oh, you needn’t. I would much rather you be honest than continue to carry unspoken doubts that I cannot put to rest.

—

Thom: You said I could talk to you about the whole death ma – necromancy. Thing.

Emmrich: I’m entirely at your service. I hope I can set your mind at ease, even a little.

Thom: Look – there’s no question your heart’s in the right place. I don’t doubt your intentions. But all those skeletons walking... all those corpses speaking…. It’s not natural.

Emmrich: Magic is a part of our world, master Warden. A smith forged your sword into metal, giving raw metals a shape. Likewise, necromancers merely take a form of magic present around us, and give it shape.

Thom: But it’s not right. Moving a body around. Waking up bits of their memories. The dead should stay at peace.

Emmrich: I promise, every soul laid to rest in the Necropolis does so with the express hope that a spirit might inhabit their remains someday. The few who request to remain untouched… well, we simply don’t put hinges on their sarcophagi.

Thom: But how can anyone be at peace with that? How do they know it’s going to be a good spirit who finds their body? What if… because of who they are, they draw something… twisted? Wrong?

—

Emmrich: I know you find necromancy unsettling, master Rainier, but I hope our visit to the Memorial Gardens was able to provide you a deeper understanding of it.

Thom: It made some things make sense, certainly. I wasn’t expecting a necropolis to feel comforting. Suppose I’ve always thought of the dead as distant and haunting. Cold.

Emmrich: Whyever would they be? The dead are still people, as full of feeling and as fond of connection as ourselves. And what are the people we mourn, but repositories of our boundless love?

Thom: And what if the dead have reason to hate you?

Emmrich: Ah. Master Rainier… do you have someone to fear among the dead?

Thom: … Find me later. I’ll give you the full sorry story. And drinks for both of us.

—

Emmrich: If I may… I wanted to express my thanks for trusting me with your story.

Thom: I should be thanking you. For not turning your back on me.

Emmrich: Perish the thought! You’ve shown me no reason to look at you with anyone other than the deepest respect.

Thom: Well, now you know why I wouldn’t expect the dead to have any good feelings toward me. Callier and his family… they’d never love me. They shouldn’t. If anything of them’s out there, they deserve to not think about me at all.

Emmrich: But you love them. You have let them change you. Their memories guide your decisions. In every innocent you protect, every moment of compassion, you honour them.

—

Thom: What you said, about me honouring Callier’s family. Feels like a twisted legacy, to live on through your murderer. I doubt they’d find much comfort in it.

Emmrich: Perhaps not. But what of your comfort?

Thom: It’s not about me.

Emmrich: I beg to differ. That poor family is gone; you are alive. The living deserve peace as much as the dead.

Emmrich: If you ever wished… I could perform a memorial ritual. Some candles lit, a few prayers uttered. A simple tribute to them.

Thom: It wouldn’t help them.

Emmrich: My dear Thom, mourning rituals are not really about those lost to us. A memorial would not help them, no – but it may help you.

Thom: … I might need a stiff drink afterward.

—

Harding: You seem different, lately.

Thom: Different? Different how?

Harding: I don’t know. You’re talking a bit more. Smiling. Like someone took a weight off you.

Thom: I suppose going to the Memorial Gardens helped. All these years, pretending to be a Warden, then actually being one… I’ve been trying to make up for what I did. Even if it never feels like enough.

Thom: I suppose I never took a moment to think about… doing something for me. To help me live with it. Not ‘til Emmrich suggested it.

Harding: Hard to be kind to yourself ‘til someone else shows you some kindness, huh?

Thom: (chuckles) Well. Guess it’s a good thing for me that he’s not in short supply of that.

Harding: Look… maybe if there’s anything of that family out there, they do hate you. But I don’t think you need to hate you anymore.

—

Thom: Neve, you know you said you were going to check in on Dock Town? Could you take a note to Dorian for me?

Neve: Sure. But you could just come talk to him yourself. He’d actually be glad to see you.

Thom: And that’s how I know the world’s ending. (sighs) Look, it’s just… it’s one of those talks that’s easier to do by paper.

Neve: Hm. You’re nervous. Everything all right?

Thom: I think so. I just think… I need to ask his advice on… something personal.

Neve: If it’s that personal, isn’t it better you do it face-to-face?

Thom: Probably. And it’ll be fucking awkward.

—

Emmrich: Do you mind if I ask – are you still unsettled by necromancy? I hate the thought that I might be making you uncomfortable.

Thom: I think I’m getting used to it. When I heard about your mages, I thought it was some… obsession with death. Disturbing bodies that should be at peace.

Thom: But it’s not about that, isn’t it? You’re talking to your dead, all the time. Letting them help you. Care for you.

Emmrich: Exactly so! We maintain a dialogue with the dead, and in doing so, try to find peace with death itself. (sighs) Even if some of us still struggle with a certain cowardice.

Thom: You’re no coward. Cowards run from what they fear. I know; I was one. You look it in the face, work with it, even when it frightens you.

Emmrich: I… thank you. (clears throat) So are content with my art, then?

Thom: I think it’s admirable.

—

Thom: Lace, those flowers in your room. Are they real plants, or…. Fade plants?

Harding: They’re Fade plants! But Emmrich says they’re sort of… becoming real? Because I believe in them, or something.

Thom: So if you picked them, they wouldn’t, I don’t know… disappear, or something?

Harding: Haven’t so far! Why? Wait, are you giving someone flowers? ‘Cause I bet Emmrich could tell you which ones have meaning. You should ask him!

Thom: No, I’ll just… get some that look… nice.

Harding: Why not? He’ll be happy to talk about it, he loves flowers – oh!

—

Davrin: So, Rainier. Emmrich came by to ask if I knew who left flowers on his desk. I told him he should keep asking around.

Thom: You – what? No! Davrin – stay out of it!

Davrin: What’s the point of getting a guy flowers if he never knows? Can you face an ogre but not an old necromancer?

Thom: Look, it’s… it’s easy for all of you. You already know who you are, and what you like, and I… didn’t think I… (groans) Never mind.

Davrin: Oh. I see.

—

Taash: So, you talk with Dorian?

Thom: I did. It’s up there with most awkward experiences of my life.

Taash: So what’d he say? Did he help you figure shit out?

Thom: Well… I asked him how you know if you like men, and he asked me some questions about what was going on, and I told him. And then I said, ‘Doesn’t every man look at other men like that sometimes?’

Taash: And?

Thom: And he laughed at me for ten seconds straight, then said, ‘Oh, big man, no.’

—

Bellara: So, um… I know this is kind of nosy, but... what made you realise? About the professor, I mean?

Thom: No keeping secrets in this fucking Fade house, is there?

Bellara: I… sort of guessed a little while ago. You kept being protective of him in fights. I mean, even more than you usually are with everyone else. And you were helping him climb up things, and giving him little looks, and asking about what he liked…

Bellara: And I… maybe also saw you sneaking into his room with a load of flowers.

Thom: (sighs) I… look, he’s a gentleman. Treats everyone with respect and kindness, even when they’re dead. I like listening to how he talks. And… watching how he moves. He’s graceful.

Thom: Someone like that deserves to be courted. Honoured. Someone to make him feel as important as he makes everyone else feel. And I realised… I wanted to be the someone.

—

Taash: Hey. You know it’s okay to still be figuring yourself out, right?

Thom: (chuckles) When'd you get so wise?

Taash: I dunno. It's what Mae and Tarquin keep telling me.

Thom: Look, you’re young. It’s only to be expected that you’d be working this shit out at your age. But me… I’m getting toward sixty. Shouldn’t I have figured this all out by now?

Taash: That’s vashedan. You already proved it’s never too late to find out who you are.

—

Harding: You know, Thom, I’ve been thinking. Emmrich’s graceful, and good with words, and he’s kind to everyone. He even wears gold.

Thom: Uh… what’s your point?

Harding: The point is that I remember Josephine. You have a type, Warden Rainier.

—

Davrin: So, are you ready? Trimmed your beard? Found a shirt with no bloodstains? Had a bath for once?

Thom: Look, it’s just a visit to the Necropolis. For all I know, he just wants my help killing a demon of… mild disgruntlement or something.

Davrin: Hey, battle’s a good opportunity for this kind of thing. Just make sure after you kill it, you turn to him, wipe the blood from your mouth, and put our your hand to pull him up…

Thom: He’s the healer. You don’t think he might be the one helping me up?

Davrin: Good point. All right, after the fight’s done, you slump down, wincing bravely. Make eye contact as he treats your wounds.

Davrin: Better yet, take your shirt off so he can give you a proper look over. He’ll get in real close to do the healing magic. Play your cards right, and… well, there’s no one down there to see how far things go.

Thom: Keep on like that, and I’m going to put all my wood shavings in your bed.

Davrin: Sure, old man. I saw your eyes go all distant there.

—

Emmrich: Thom, my dear. Would I be right to assume that you were behind those flowers that kept appearing on my desk?

Thom: Sorry to keep you guessing. I was… figuring some things out.

Emmrich: Well, I did have my suspicions about who my secret admirer might be. I only hesitated to talk to you about it because I feared I might simply be… seeing what I wanted to see.

Thom: … Oh. Well, then.

—

Neve: So, Emmrich’s wearing a new bracelet, you’re bathing twice as often, and both of you keep smiling at nothing. Any chance that’s connected?

Thom: It… might be.

Neve: Good. You two fit well.

Thom: Glad you think so, 'cause I worry about that. A necromancer and a Warden? Sounds like the start of one of Sera’s jokes.

Neve: Well, let’s see. Emmrich reads romance novels in our book club as if he’s aching to have them become real for him. And you act like you’re ready to swear deathless devotion at the drop of a hat.

Thom: That a bad thing?

Neve: (laughs) No. I mean that neither of you do half-measures when it comes to feelings. Like I said: you fit.

—

Davrin: So, you and Emmrich took your time showing up to breakfast. Guess you showed him some swordplay last night? Or did he show you his favourite bone?

Thom: Davrin. Don't. Start.

Davrin: (chuckles) Seriously, though... glad you two are making it work. Not every Warden's brave enough to risk something, with the Calling hanging over them.

Thom: I've been a soldier and a Warden. That's a lot of death for one life. Being around him, it's... like taking a breath.

Davrin: Take your comfort where you find it, old man. Even Wardens deserve to get some. (pause) And to get some.

Thom: Maker help me, I will shove a chisel somewhere chisels where not meant to go.

[honestlyvan]

On Tumblr it's pretty common to follow people based on the fact that they're good at curating (ie. you like the things they reblog) as opposed to following the OP of every post you like immediately, because despite the ravaging discoverability on this site has taken, especially on the fandom side, there still are people on here who run fully curatorial blogs and like doing the digging it takes to find the "good posts".

In fact, I feel like the historical presence of both themed and unthemed curatorial blogs on this site is probably the reason it's so reliant on reblogs, and the weakening of their ability to find things is one of the big reasons why posts lose momentum faster now. (The other reason people reblog less is because of the damage a culture of harassment caused to this site's identity, but that's out of scope for this conversation.) It used to be that if a big fandom blog reblogged you, you didn't have to worry about your post getting buried, because their followers and peer network would give you exponentially more notes.

Which isn't to say that you shouldn't follow the OPs of posts you like, but it's often not the most efficient or even the most interesting way to get a dashboard full of interesting things. And if you do want to follow OPs directly, you could be the next highly curatorial blog that gets followed because people like your ability to find the "good posts" and be the one with the "good commentary".

The critical thing here is that follower count isn't actually something that is visible to anyone but yourself, so that's still not exactly "popularity". However, popularity on this site gets you basically nothing other than an inbox you can never empty fully and probably a snide hatedom from people who resent having to see your URL because blocking someone doesn't hide their additions in the threads, and you can't filter out the additions of specific people without hiding the whole thread.

Reblogging is essentially a conversation tool, and has multiple registers. All the "rules" you might hear about when it's okay to add commentary and when you should keep your commentary to the tags are derived from the old way the site used to display your activity. People who have been here for a long time expect certain "manners", even when most of them have forgotten or never knew what the origin of those manners was, but I think because tags and comments are now so embedded into the OP's experience of their own posts, people forget that the middle layer of commentary and curation is what made this site what it was.

So, in my opinion the best way to think about reblogging is not as you talking to the OP -- it's you talking to people who follow you, with the OP just having provided the conversation starter.

People keep telling newcomers that they must reblog posts here because that's the only way to boost a post. And while that isn't not true, it also wildly misrepresents the reblogging culture that Tumblr actually has.

The posts like that keep talking about things as if the OP ("content creator") is someone who needs eyeballs on their work and the rest of us peons ("consumers") owe them the number-go-up an algorithm handles on other sites.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Tumblr isn't a popularity contest (note how you can't see follower count), and it's not structured with creators at the top and audience at the bottom. It's egalitarian, we're all in the same crowd, and yes, some of us have 2 followers and some have twenty bazillion, but no one actually knows which is which.

You reblog a post not as a favour to the glorious yet suffering content mill, but because you want people who look at your blog (all two of them now, all twenty of them once more people look at the notes on the posts you reblog) to see that post in the context of your blog.

Your blog is your space, and you're meant fill it with things that you want seen there. That can be your original posts, reblogs with commentary, or just a collection of things you think are neat.

Reblogs chains are often how people find other people to follow, too. So reblog to show off a post that you like and to attract more people who like the things you like to show off. It's that simple. And it's about you.

And because everyone does this, reblogs posts they want to be seen on their own blog, when people make posts that a lot of other people enjoy, that post blows up and is seen by even more people.

Tumblr's reblog system is a network of people picking something up and going "look at this cool thing I found!". It is not a service to content creators.

[eddiesvixen]

If You Want Blood (You Got It)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲 (𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 (𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀), 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗴𝘆𝗻𝘆, 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰𝘀, 𝗻𝘂𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘆

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟱.𝟰𝗸

the second chapter of Open Til Midnight

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The faucet leaks in the restroom as you finish your eyeliner in the mirror. This saturday morning you made no time to do your makeup at home given you didn’t get much sleep. You just keep seeing that hold print in your head. That ugly shade of orange from that sheet of paper.

Closing the Empire

due to purchase

Nine Thousand Dollars

a new environment for educational purposes

provocative musical acts

Fuck You, Larry Bassinger.

To sell Empire is to sell your soul. The blood, sweat, tears, hard work, art, albums, dents, scratches, carpet fuzz, pins.. everything you and your friends, your family put into Empire, all gone. Turned into something completely contradictory. Provocative musical acts?! What the hell did that even mean?

Knock, Knock.

“I’m in here.” You call out to whoever it is.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

You open the door to see Eddie standing there. He didn’t get much sleep either and honestly you both hadn’t spoken much in the van ride here today. He holds up two coffee cups.

“Since it’s too early for a Jolt.” He forces a small grin for you.

You groan. “Damn i’d kill for a jolt. My eyes haven’t felt this heavy since we snuck out to that Overkill concert in ‘81.”

This time Eddie actually smiles. “Oh you were a complete mess, princess.”

“Come on it wasn’t that bad.” You sip your coffee, grateful that Eddie always gets your order perfect.

“I remember having to carry a certain girl to the van because she got so wasted she couldn’t even walk straight.” He grins, grateful that his comment got you to laugh.

“You know what? It’s your fault for even buying the tickets.”

“Well you had turned 16. I know it was a month late but admit it, best birthday gift you ever had.”

“Best concert memory I have.” You smile at him and he returns one as well.

“Many more to come, sweetheart.” He sips his coffee and runs a hand through his messy curls. “Ready to get out there?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you up front.”

He nods, giving you a shoulder squeeze before leaving the restroom. You straighten up and fix your hair one last time before walking into the backroom and putting your lanyard around your neck.

“Yeesh. Yoga pants? Are you okay?” Robin says from the bulletin board, hanging up a flyer.

“Uh, yeah. Just.. my period.” You were quick to make up a lie.

“Damn. I have some Tylenol in my locker if you need it.”

You smile, loving how Robin has pretty much an entire survival kit in her locker. “I’ll be okay for now, but thanks.”

When Hopper’s office door opens, you both look up. You feel a bit shaken with how he says your name.

“My office. Now.”

Robin looks at you and you shake your head. When he walks back into his office she runs over to you.

“Something happen last night?”

“Probably just left a door unlocked or something.”

She raises a brow. You can be rebellious sometimes but never irresponsible. Not with Empire. But before she can ask you’ve already walked into his office, closing the door.

“Hey Hop-“

“Jim. You call me Jim, now sit.”

Well that’s odd. You sit.

“Just got a call from Larry.”

Shit.

“Do you know who Larry is?”

“No sir.”

“Larry. Larry is my boss. The very man who sold me this store. Larry helps with our funding, our sales, our publicity. Larry is the reason we get an ad in the city newspaper. Larry takes the money we earn, doubles it, cashes it out into our checks and uses the rest to help buy us more music. Larry could not do any of that last night. Do you know why?”

Shit.

“The money.”

He takes a deep, frustrated breath before placing the cash pouch on his desk. “Why didn’t you take money to the bank?”

“I forgot.” You’re quick with your answer, but so is Jim.

“Don’t.” He knows you. You never forget. You never even leave the store until everything is perfect for the next day. “Tell me the truth.”

You sigh. “Bassinger Library and Cafe.” You say it with an angered frown, the same one Hop’s face morphs into once he hears you say it. “I saw the paper in your drawer. Me and Eddie.”

“Does anyone else know?” He says it as less of a question, more of a ‘Please tell me no one else knows.’

“No.”

“Listen-“

“Hop, why? Why would you keep this from us?”

“You think I like this? You think I wanna sell this place? Think i’d ever let you down?”

“That’s in seven days Hop, Seven!”

“Calm down.” He nods at you and you sigh, shaking your head.

“You can’t just let him win.”

“I’m doing my best. I didn’t tell you because if this works, if it works.. you never would’ve known this place was ever at cost.” He runs his hand through his hair, more stressed about the situation than you thought. He’s usually so tough, big and bad Jim Hopper but right now even he seems shaken.

“If what works?”

He stands up and goes to the vent, pulling off the hatch and taking out a red envelope. He walks back over to the desk and hands it to you. When you open it you can’t believe your eyes as you pull out the cash.

He tosses the navy blue apron onto the table, the logo in bold cursive. Bassinger’s Cafe and Library.

“Three thousand four hundred and thirty seven dollars. That’s how much me and Joyce have saved up since I got that letter 3 months ago.”

Three months. He hid this from you all when you celebrated Will’s birthday. He was hiding it when you went bowling, when you hit the record of selling your ten thousandth cd in the store. He hid it when you framed Jonathan’s first magazine published photo in the front of the store.

All of these happy memories over the past three months, and he hid this from you. No. He protected you.

“Hop-“

“I’m trying my best. We have done the best we can do. But the man always wins. Always.” He looks at you and you don’t know if you want to cry or rage.

“We have to try, Hop. This may be his property but it’s our store, our home.”

“We’ll never make ten thousand by the end of the week.”

“We have to try! Don’t I get a say?! Don’t any of us get a say?! I can’t just sit back and watch this happen!”

It’s all you did when your parents argued and fought, when your dad left you in that house with your mom and she paid bills by selling her body, when your friends got beat up by jocks in high school as one held you back. You sat there and watched. You had no choice. Just as Hopper’s telling you now.

“I have done all I can do. This is it.” He grits his teeth and runs his hands over his face.

“Bullshit!” You glare at him and shake your head. “It’s not too late and he doesn’t get the only say! We can’t just-“

“I said this is it!” He slams his fist against the desk and you glare at him. Angry and yet, sad. He never yells at you, any of you. But with both of you being so frustrated about the store, it’s come down to this.

He softens his voice. “I’m sorry kid.”

You frown and sit his envelope back on the desk. You nod and stand up, walking out of his office.

~~~~~

Three thousand four hundred and thirty seven dollars

That’s a lot of money, but not enough.

Six thousand five hundred and sixty three dollars..

That’s how much more you need to save Empire before it could become something so.. shitty. Instead of rustic wood and vinyls, you’d smell coffee and matcha. No more Poison over the speakers, just a slow jazz. No more colorful walls and decorative rugs with the fuzzy layers, just a boring plain blue.

And as much as you fought it, you can’t be angry with Hopper. He’s done his best, he has shown you all you have. And it wasn’t enough. Nothing’s ever enough.

“Excuse me!” The man almost yells in your face.

“So sorry.” You stand up straighter, completely sunk into your thoughts not remembering your place at the register.

“I bet you are. Just ring these up please?” He sits his cds on the counter.

Brown rugged hair, way too many tattoos, a beer gut, piercing evil green eyes, a rugged beard that touches his chest, which is also way too hairy and peeking out of his gym shirt. You’ve met this type before. Your mother had guests like him all the time.

“Sure.” You nod, scanning the cds, wanting to hurry this exchange. You scan his cds and a hand slips by your side, looking for a marker.

“Sorry.” Jonathan says as he grabs the sharpie and starts to write on the smaller boxes. Orders to ship off for mail.

You sigh when you open a cd case that feels too light. You open the Beastie Boys case to see that the cd is missing. “Um, Jonathan could you grab me another Licensed to Ill?”

Jonathan nods and walks off, but the customer is annoyed. “What’s the problem?”

“The cd in this case is missing.”

“What are you saying I stole it?” He snarls.

“No sir, my coworker’s just-“

“Checking the cameras? What, do I look like a fucking thief?!” He snaps, and that immediately catches the attention of Jonathan, and half the store.

When Eddie hears your voice and a man screaming after it, he stands up from organizing the folk vinyls and his eyes lock on you. He knows you were upset earlier and by the look of your face and the way you’re gripping the counter, you’re seconds away from cursing this man out. He rushes to you.

“Is there an issue here?” Eddie says as he walks up behind you.

You take a deep breath. “No, this gentleman just needs a new-“

“A new cd.” Jonathan nods and scans it, sitting it down on the counter. The man glares at him but fishes into his pocket for cash anyways.

Eddie leans forward and whispers into your ear. “Let me handle him, you go take ten, yeah?”

You nod. You don’t speak because you know if you do you might actually lose your job. You walk off into the break room.

The guy rolls his eyes as he hands Eddie the cash, Jonathan watching discreetly as he finishes up on signing the order packages.

“What’s the return policy on these?”

Eddie puts the cash into the register and shakes his head. “For returning customers, thirty days. For you? Never.”

He glares as Eddie places the receipt in the bag.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You’re not welcome here anymore.” Jonathan clarifies for the smartass in front of him and Eddie.

“The fuck is this?” The guy glares at them, offended.

“Maybe next time learn to respect the women who help your sorry ass find the Beastie Boys.” Eddie says with a smug smirk.

The guy looks like he wants a fight but before he could raise up, Hopper walks up.

“Pete Aggerton. Right? You work at the auto shop by that mini dive bar. You know, the one with the shitty tools and shit service.”

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to speak up.

“You leave my storm, take your damn cds and never show your face here again, or I’ll have the police come there and tell them about your little hit and run incident near that playground. Think your wife wants to hear about another dui?”

He looks down on the man and he doesn’t even argue back. He takes his bag and curses as he leaves out. “Fucking pricks.”

Hopper turns to look at Eddie and Jonathan, giving them a look just screaming ‘Well done, boys.’

“Where’d she go?” He asks the boys.

“Back room.” Jonathan says.

“Hold down the register. Eddie get the girls into the break room.”

“Copy that.” Eddie smirks, proud to knock down that asshole. He gets Chrissy and Robin as Hopper ordered him to and they walk into the backroom.

Eddie expected to have to maybe give you a hug or have to calm you down but cleary you’ve taken matters into your own hands. Shoes off, feed kicked up as you lie back on the sofa, joint between your fingers as you take a pull.

“My my, what have we here.” Robin says teasingly.

You sigh and shake your head.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks.

“Peachy.”

But Eddie knows. And honestly he’s stressed too, so he holds his hand out, taking a nice lengthy drag.

“Damn that’s good. Don’t get too high, sweetheart. Need you till 9, remember?”

“Won’t matter next week, shouldn’t matter tonight.”

“What?” Robin raises a brow.

“Nothing she’s high.” Eddie tries to cover it up and Hopper walks in.

“Okay girls, we need to talk.” He shakes his head. “Put that out it’s not your break.”

“Why don’t we all just have a break?” You look at him and he could see you were still upset.

“Not right now.”

“I need a smoke, Hop.”

“And I need you to act your age. You’re 23 damn it act like it.”

The girls stay silent, not used to seeing you so angry with Hopper. You look at them.

“Think he’s called us back here to let us down easy girls.” Suddenly the room isnt so quiet anymore.

“Jim, what’s she talking about?” Chrissy frowns a bit.

Robin chimes in. “Are you firing us? I know I mixed up the tapes a few times but I can do better.”

“No one is getting fired.” Jim tries to calm the girls down.

“Like Larry’s gonna keep us on the payroll.” You scoff.

“Larry?” Chrissy says.

“Who’s Larry?” Robin asks, intrigued.

“Cut it out.” Eddie looks at you with a pleading look.

“Hop just tell them.” You frown, so drowned into your emotions.

“Tell us what?” Chrissy says.

“It’s nothing.” Eddie tries to save Hopper’s ass again.

“Who the hell is Larry?” Robin asks a bit louder over the chaos of the room.

“Who’s asking?”

Everyone’s head turns to the door to see a man in a very nice suit. Chestnut hair styled like Sinatra, a smile on his face and a fancy pair of shoes you see in those designer magazines.

“Larry.” Hopper nods and everyone’s eyes widen. You feel your heart stop. This is Larry Bassinger. You anger suddenly soothes down to something worse, fear.

~~~~~~

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” Larry says as he looks around our break room. It’s very backhanded, given how he didn’t want to sit on the sofa.

“The staff takes decoration to heart.” Hopper nods as he sits in a chair across from Larry’s, you and the girls sat on the sofa while Eddie stands behind you three.

“Interesting.” He brushes it off and sits up. “Any of you ladies hang up something significant?”

“It’s all significant.” You speak up.

Chrissy sees you’re bothered and tries to cheer you up. “She decorated the frame for employee of the month.”

Robin chimes in. “Probably since she spends so much time up there.”

Larry’s brows raise. “Fascinating. I imagine you would make the finest employee anywhere else?”

“I prefer to not spend the rest of my life serving coffee to hipsters judging me for listening to provocative musical acts-‘“

“That’s enough.” Hopper warns you and Larry laughs.

“It’s okay.” He nods and looks from Hopper to you. “So you’ve seen the letter.”

“I have.” You nod.

“Me too.” Eddie adds in to defend you.

“Me and your manager, we went to school together. He tell you that?”

You and the others are shocked, but you hide it well. Clearly, he’s trying to win you over.

“He didn’t.”

“Well, we did. And when we graduated, I went right off to college and worked my dad’s firm. Real estate came easy. Buy, sell, move. Property to property and this place, let me tell you. Complete dump. I’m sure you wouldn’t know that considering it was decorated so much.”

Jim gives him a glare, a warning.

“This.. lot, is mines to keep. It’s simply rental. Never a full purchase. This store will be mines and I am no heartless fool, believe me.” He places his hand over his heart. “Which is why I’m here today.”

He pulls three papers from his briefcase and hands one to you, one to Robin, one to Chrissy. You all immediately frown. Job applications.

“What is this supposed to mean?” Chrissy looks at Larry a bit disturbed.

“Means you and your girls are promised and guaranteed well paid positions once the cafe opens next year.”

Your eyes widen. “Just us?”

“We find in waitressing that women are more smiled upon-“

“When serving stale pastries and coffee to snobs who can’t remember our names and undergrads who try to peek under our skirts? Yeah, no thanks.” Robin sits the paper down.

“I am just offering from the kindness of my heart.”

“Kindness?” You scoff and sit the paper down, more of a toss. “Kindness is letting Jim keep his store that feeds his family. It pays for colleges classes and career opportunities. We do donations and drives did you know that?!”

“I do. And we will keep those going. If you sign, it will be my first priority-“

“We don’t want to sell coffee, we want to sell records. This is our store!”

Larry glares at you, clearly upset that you’re not complying or even more, shutting up. “It is not your store!”

The rooms blares into a deafening silence.

“You had your daddy’s money. A college education and a promised career. This man, my manager. He had nothing. He found family here, we all did. And if you take Empire away..” You swallow, not even knowing how to simmer down the anger and sadness in your body so Eddie speaks up.

“Then that’s all gone too.” He stands behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Larry looks at all of you. The fear and tinge of sadness in everyone’s face, even Hopper’s. Larry contemplates what would he lose if he let this building go. Larry would lose nothing so Larry doesn’t give a shit.

“No money, no Empire.” He states it clearly.

You feel a boil of anger inside of you. Hopper’s eager as he stands.

“Larry, thanks for coming-“

“Fine.” You take a deep breath and look at Larry.

“Pardon?” Larry raises a brow.

“You want ten thousand we’ll get your ten thousand.” You look at him, wanting to wipe that stupid smirk off.

“And how exactly will you do that?” He challenges back.

“Want the money or not?” You glare at him. Larry looks at Hopper, and even he knows not to mess with you when you’re this determined. Larry navigates his vision back towards you.

“You got yourselves deal.”

~~~~~

8pm. You sit on the roof of Empire. After a lengthy conversation with Hopper and a few too many apologies, he agreed to let you take your last hour alone. That doesn’t last for long when you hear the familiar crunch of Eddie’s boots. He sits next to you, legs hanging from the roof. You can feel his eyes on you so you speak first.

“Hey.”

“Hey. You okay?”

“I’m sorry. About earlier, I just.. so many assholes today.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. We’re just worried about you. I’m worried.”

He knows you really need a hug, so he scoots closer and wraps his arms around your shoulders and you lean into him, enjoying the closeness.

“That guys a dick. Larry and that asshat from earlier, don’t pay them any mind. You’re great.”

You nod and speak softly. “I’m so tired. I mean, all my life Eddie. My mom brought men home like that customer all the time. Loud and arrogant and just so fucking rude. And then Larry comes in and shoves his fancy suits down our throats and brags his cash in Hopper’s face. It’s bullshit.”

“Definitely bullshit.” He scoffs but then he smirks. “But you were such a badass.”

You look up at him and grin. “Oh yeah?”

“Please. You want the money or not? Felt like I was in some badass mafia movie. Very metal.”

You smile and it warms Eddie’s heart. It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day.

“Idiot.”

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a moment of silence before you speak up. “Hey..”

“Yeah?”

“Lets throw a party.”

He chuckles. “Well that’s random.”

“No.” You sit up and look at him. “We can tackle this two in one. Do you still have Rick’s number?”

“I don’t deal anymore, princess.” Eddie says woth a raised brow.

“I know.. but if we sell at our rager we could make tons of money and put it towards the store.”

“You know i’d do anything for you, but this is very risky.”

“It’ll just be weed.” You reassure him. “And maybe just a few baggies of K.” He grows silent, clearly thinking. “Come on, Eddie. A total rager for the beginning of summer and to save the Empire. Please.”

He can’t say no. Not when you look at him like that. Expectant and hopeful for the first time today. He knows he’s gonna regret it but he sighs and nods.

“Fine. But two things.”

You nod. “Okay?”

He holds up a finger. “One, Hopper can never find out about the drugs. He’s skin us both alive.” He holds up the second finger. “Two, we deal together. I don’t need some douche trying to bribe you just because you’re a girl.”

“Okay, yeah. Stays between us and deal together. How hard can it be?”

~~~~~

Sunday night. You’re actually feeling so much better. After your shitty day yesterday and being off schedule today, you got to sleep in, you got yourself all prettied up while Eddie and Jonathan spent the day getting your dealings for the party and arranging it at the dorms of Robin’s campus.

The party is alive, a perfect goodbye to the campus as most of these students are graduating and traveling to the beaches for the summer. They dance and drink in the halls, some making out in corners and others already rotating the pre-rolled joints you sold to them.

Eddie decided he would take care of selling the coke. If anything were to happen to a student because of his product, he wasn’t gonna take you down with him. Although, he would like to take you somewhere. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

That lacy black and red corset on your body, the way your hips swayed in that black skirt, the pretty black heeled boots that adorned your feet. You were a dream and more.

“Look!” You grin and pull out a wad of cash from your top and he gasps.

“Holy shit, how much is that?”

“Four eighty five.” You smile. “Some football player was so drunk he gave me an extra fifty. Wasn’t gonna argue.”

“Princess, you’re something else.” He grins.

“Where’s Jonathan?”

“In his dorm.” Eddie tucks the cash into his jeans pocket.

“With a party like this?” You raise a brow.

“Nancy’s with him.”

You gasp and laugh. “Damn. Good for them.”

“Yeah, good for them.”

“Let’s get a drink?”

“Lead the way, princess.”

The two of you weave through the crowd, the heavy bass of the music vibrating through the air. Eddie sticks close behind you, his hand lightly resting on your lower back as you move through the sea of sweaty bodies and discarded red solo cups. The party is alive, chaotic, and exactly the kind of escape you both need after the hell of a weekend at Empire.

You grab two cups from the table and shrug. "What's your poison?" you ask looking through the bottles.

"Dealer's choice," he says, his smirk challenging you to surprise him.

There’s rum, vodka, tonic and some bottle with electric blue liquid and no label. You sit the chups down and take a smarter route. After all, you still have to sell tonight. You hand Eddie his usual, a beer, and you go for a Smirnoff. You settle by going outside, sitting in the grass outside of the dorms. You clink your bottles together.

“Cheers, to.. dealing drugs together?” He laughs.

“To getting cash.” You smile.

“And to saving Empire.” Eddie smile you both nod and drink your drinks.

The night air is cool against your skin, carrying the faint sounds of music and laughter from the dorms. Eddie leans back on his elbows, his grin fading into a thoughtful expression as he looks up at the stars.

"You ever think about what happens if we don't save Empire?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

You take a sip of your Smirnoff, letting the burn sit in your chest for a moment before answering. "No. Not possible.” You swallow, you really haven’t. You don’t wanna picture a world without that place.

Eddie nods. "I mean I get it. Empire's like...home, you know? It's more than just a record store. It's the only place that feels like it gets people like us."

The freaks. That’s what we got called in high school. But at Empire it’s different. No rules, no barriers. Just us and our music. Sure it’s not perfect but Eddie’s right, it’s home.

You glance at him, noticing how the moonlight softens his features. "Yeah," you say. "That's why we're not gonna let it go under. I don't care if we have to sell every pill, every ounce. We'll figure it out."

Eddie leans back against the grass, his hands raking the blades like he's grounding himself. "It just sucks, you know? That it's all on us. Feels like the whole world doesn't give a damn about places like Empire. But if it was some fancy boutique or some sports bar? Everyone would be throwing money at it to save it."

"That's because those places are safe. Normal. Empire’s for people like us, people who don't fit their mold. They don't care if it disappears, but we do…and we're not gonna let it." You sip your drink.

Eddie can’t help but look at you. So beautiful in the moonlight. Your soft skin, your features, your words. It’s all so sentimental to him. He remembers sitting in the grass like this when you’d run out to the playground with him when you were 16. You’d smoke and laugh and talk about whatever. You always talked about how you’d leave that town one day and become something huge. You were so determined, just like you are now.

Eddie tilts his head and gives you a boyish grin, same one he’s had for years. "You've got that look again."

"What look?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"The 'I'm ready to take on the whole damn world' look." He chuckles softly. "Makes me think we might actually pull this off."

You grin despite the weight sitting in your chest. "We will. We have to. Because if I have to hear Larry’s pompous ass laugh one more time I might actually strangle him.”

“A show I’d pay to see.” He laughs and finishes off his beer.

You laugh too but the tension lingers. You both know the stakes are higher than ever, and with a shared look you silently agree to take down that corporate asshole together.

~~~~~

It’s safe to say Sunday night was a success. A small one, but a success nonetheless. You and Eddie had sold all of the product you came with and spent the rest of the night drinking and dancing. You’d gotten a bit wasted after your seventh Smirnoff so Eddie carried you into his van and let you sleep.

And in the morning you wake up to something so gentle on your nose. Another nose. But it’s not Eddie’s no, this one’s much smaller. You wake up to the purrs of Eddie’s cat, Ozzy.

You smile and nuzzle against the small black furball. “Good morning.”

You sit up and it all crashes on you. Your head spinning in a whirlwind of aches, your clothes which are now just some boxers and a Pantera tee you left here at Eddie’s the last time you had movie night. You’d gotten stretch and look around the bedroom to see that it’s missing it’s main thing: it’s owner.

You pad out of the bedroom. Alone in Eddie’s apartment. You feed Ozzy and read the note Eddie left you on the counter.

Aspirin’s in he bathroom mirror, pancakes in the microwave. Be back soon! :)

You smile and take the aspirins, practically chug your glass of water and sit on Eddie’s sofa, watching Full House as you eat your pancakes.

Once you’re full, you clean your plate and decide to look around Eddie’s place. You look through his books, tapes, magazines. Loving all of his trinkets and things, same as he loved going through yours when he came to your apartment for the first time.

You finally settle on a Guitar World magazine, Motley Crue adorning the cover. You smile and flip through the pages, looking at the different pics of different bands. Flipping and flipping and.. oh.

Polaroids. Polaroids in Eddie’s magazine. Polaroids.. of Eddie in Eddie’s magazine.

You carefully lift and count them. Four polaroids. In one, he’s got a shirt on, his hand in his hair and the other holding his guitar as the strap hangs over his shoulder.

In the next his hair is more messy, probably from taking his shirt off because it’s off now. His tattoos on his porcelain skin stealing almost all of the attention because in the third one the guitar is gone and he’s posing like some real rockstar, leaning back against the wall where his tapesty and posters hang.

You smile at the smug grin on his face. Taking photographs pf himself in his bedroom like he’s documenting. What a cocky bastard. Speaking of..

“Oh..” You gasp and your eyes widen. This fourth pic. The way his eyes look into the camera. Like he’s demanding attention now. And instead of a guitar occupying his hand, it’s something much harder and yet, just as red.

Your mouth hangs as you see his fist wrapped around his cock. The way its leaking makes you wonder if he’d been jerking off or if those tight jeans he had on in the other pictures had made him this hard.

An even better question crossed your mind. Why did he take these pictures? Was it for someone? Was it for fun? Is he really that big or did the camera do him a huge favor.

You gasp when you hear the door open and unlock. You quickly put the polaroids back into the magazine and tuck it under the sofa.

“Oh hey, you’re up.” He grins as he walks in with a white envelope.

“I am.” You grin, trying to play it cool. “What’s that?”

“I’m glad you ask princess.” He flops onto the sofa next to you. “Counted the cash from last night’s dealings and added it with Hopper’s cash.”

You take the envelope and open it. “And how much is this?”

He grins. “Four thousand and fifty eight dollars.”

“Wow. We sold that much last night?”

“Yeah. But if we’re gonna reach ten thousand might wanna consider some other options.”

“I’ll.. look into it.” You look at the crotch of his jeans then away. “Um, I should probably go. Get washed up and figure out some of this.. cash situation.”

He frowns. “Can‘t hang out?”

“Sorry. I’m just hungover still.” To be fair you didn’t lie, those aspirins did nothing for your headache and you were very nauseous, especially now.

“Oh. Well you can just take my bed-“

“No! I mean, no. It’s fine Eddie, really.” You stand and he follows suit, walking you to the door.

“Should I drive you?” His brows furrow a bit.

“It’s fine. I’ll get a cab. You just take a day off, yeah?”

“You’re so weird.” He shakes his head. “Fine. Go on but me and Ozzy will not let this slide.”

“Noted.” You grin and bite your lip to shut yourself up when he hugs you, the chains from his jeans freezing your legs. The close proximity knowing what’s in his jeans. It’s suffocating, but you hug him anyways then quickly pull away.

“Bye Eddie.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

You leave his apartment and take the longest cab ride back to your apartment. The shower you tske doesn’t help you feel any cleaner. You need to get the image out of your mind, and quickly. There’s so much to focus on. You’ve got a music store to save, no time for distractions. But damn is it a good one.

series taglist: @pupwrites @sheneedsrocknroll92

pls let me know if you want to be added in the comnents, xo

[khufiya-khaufnak-antariksh]

WIP

[ash-and-starlight]

The world needs more Yue and Zuko friendship, I squeal just thinking abt the parallels. They deserve a life changing field trip together and if u have abt ideas I’m all ears 👀

Hiii anon this ask fermented in my inbox and in my brain for so long,, so take this??? Post canon yue lives/no war au arts?? Anyway aside from the Parallels and their political position & their duty before hoes grindset I think they could learn a lot from each other. With zuko learning the gift of patience & diplomacy from yue & Yue learning that allowing yourself to feel anger and speaking up can actually be Good.

anyway hypothetical life changing trip outcome: zuko takes an intro gender studies class and yue says fuck

(oh and also must not forget the crush on sokka)

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[snowysaur]

2024 year in review/art summary. i realized i never made these for 2021-23 either so here's all of them. i think i haven't been drawing as much these past few years, oh well support me on: patreon | kofi | redbubble

[doodleodds]

Happy Valentines, Akira. Happy Valentines, Asshole.

If you can’t read what Akechi’s secondary inner-dialogue says cause I obscured it too much behind his regular dialogue, here’s a transcription in panel order: Hello, you fucking- Ah- Hello, Akira! Fuck off, why should I tell you- Just a soda- there’s a new flavor.

I don’t want your shitty gift. Oh- haha! You’re so sweet.

I hope I choke. They’re lovely, thank you.

Like hell. Likewise. There’s no way it’s just a coincidence. Still though, it’s a funny coincidence.

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 99

i have NEARLY finished the skirt for my ren faire fit i just gotta get a few finishing details added and also get the undershirt bleached (bc i got a bunch of makeup on it at last years fair and shit Stained) but THEN i can show yall the final fit!!

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

conceptualizing.....

[moeblob]

You just made me realize for the first time since I've been drawing these guys. The person I have known the longest irl (met him in fourth grade and am still in touch with him) is a Scorpio. Holy moly.

[lightbulb-warning]

so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently

[pinata-candy]

My brain, shot from finals: make the robots into warrior cats and show the people

Me: okkaaaay :]

[pitayaparty]

sholmes and iris as that one holmes and watson illustration from the greek interpreter

[phoenixiancrystallist]

OH YEAH I DID ART

Month 6, day 3, did days 1 and 2 of @adorkastock's Draw Everything June challenge!

Not me making up characters on the spot, no, I would never, it's not like character design is my truest love or anything :P Neither of them have names, but Day 1 uses he/him pronouns and Day 2 uses she/her pronouns and made the kitty cat patch for her pocket herself :3

[bmpmp3]

(falls to the floor holding my head in my hands) i can't keep making all my ocs the same vaguely eastern european vaguely indo carribean mixed race guy i cant keep doing this

(looks up. eyes glowing red. levitating with unknown power) or can i..................................................