#stickers production continues

[uspa-chan]

☆

[jaderavenarts]

Wondering if I should try to quickly make Veilguard keychains even though I'm fresh off of recovering from a small amount of burnout (again) because of the proposed tariffs...

[zorthania]

A piece about survivors guilt.

This comic isn't perfect. I started it back in October 2023, and every time I picked up my pen, I wept.

I bring this to you today, on 9/11, in hopes that you reflect on this day a little differently than how most Americans would. Let it move you to continue to boycott, protest and challenge your family, friends and colleagues. You have a bigger impact than you would believe.

Thank you for reading this with an open heart.

From the river to the sea...

I'd like to bring to attention the fact that the figures depicted above are a gross undercount of the actual number of deaths. I scoured the internet high and low to source my findings and not a single one could break down the devastation that befell an individual ethnicity. Instead, they lumped a bunch of ethnicities together, provided a general timeline, and called it a day, reinforcing the sheer scale of dehumanization propagated in the west. The only consistency between all the articles I looked up was the 4.5 to 4.7 million figure I've included above, and even then, they were all published by western media news outlets... the very same that have been so unreliable and complicit in the genocide of Palestinians today. So I have to take everything they say with a grain of salt.

We are not just numbers.

All of us have ambitions and desires and lives worth living.

With that said, this is your friendly reminder to:

Donate an e-sim

Donate to PCRF to provide Palestinian children aid

Donate to Pious Projects to provide woman with feminine hygiene kits

Donate to CareForGaza to provide food to displaced families in Gaza either through their Gofundme or their paypal

Donate to any of the vetted gofundme campaigns on GazaFunds to help Palestinians trying to flee Gaza.

And if you or someone you know sees or experiences a hate crime and can afford it, SUE. This is a more effective use of your money than most realise. The reason zionists act with impunity is because of the normalization of white supremacy and oppression of ethnic minorities. Challenging that in any capacity tells them that there are consequences to their actions and makes them think twice before engaging in hate crimes and helps raise all of us up against the systems currently in place that let them get away with it.

If you can't donate or spend any money, you can:

Do your daily clicks.

Boycott targeted companies on the BDS list (if you're like me and you don't want a single dollar to go towards anything supporting Israel right now, you can use Bdnaash to double check what products are okay to buy, but the BDS list is sufficient as it is a strategic attack and proven very effective thus far)

Flood your representatives emails and voicemails with how you won't be voting for them unless their politics align with an immediate ceasefire in Gaza.

Attend a protest, be LOUD.

Challenge your circle of friends, family and colleagues with conversations about Palestine. (THIS IS THE MOST UNDERRATED AND MOST EFFECTIVE THING YOU CAN DO)

and if you're really up to, be disruptive in any capacity that you can think of towards major corporations benefiting from this onslaught. (i.e. halting military manufacturers from production + shipments, sticking boycott stickers on products at your market etc)

And finally, if your country wasn't mentioned in the above excerpt, it was no deliberate omission on my part and I encourage you to come forward and tell your story about the suffering of your people so that this may be a learning opportunity for everyone.

You are seen.

You are not alone.

Thank you again if you've read this far.

From the river to the sea...

[flamestar126]

Brain please work

[fozmeadows]

there is no ethical consumption under capitalism

Years ago now, I remember seeing the rape prevention advice so frequently given to young women - things like dressing sensibly, not going out late, never being alone, always watching your drink - reframed as meaning, essentially, "make sure he rapes the other girl." This struck a powerful chord with me, because it cuts right to the heart of the matter: that telling someone how to lower their own chances of victimhood doesn't stop perpetrators from existing. Instead, it treats the existence of perpetrators as a foregone conclusion, such that the only thing anyone can do is try, by their own actions, to be a less appealing or more difficult victim.

And the thing is, ever since the assassination of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, I've kept on thinking about how, in this day and age, CEOs of big companies often have an equal or greater impact on the day to day lives of regular people than our elected officials, and yet we have almost no legal way to redress any grievances against them - even when their actions, as in the case of Thompson's stewardship of UHC, arguably see them perpetrating manslaughter at scale through tactics like claims denial. That this is a real, recurring thing that happens makes the American healthcare insurance industry a particularly pernicious example, but it's far from being the only one. Because the original premise of the free market - the idea that we effectively "vote" for or against businesses with our dollars, thereby causing them to sink or swim on their individual merits - is utterly broken, and has been for decades, assuming it was ever true at all. In this age of megacorporations and global supply chains, the vast majority of people are dependent on corporations for necessities such as gas, electricity, internet access, water, food, housing and medical care, which means the consumer base is, to all intents and purposes, a captive market. We might not have to buy a specific brand, but we have to buy a brand, and as businesses are constantly competing with one another to bring in profits, not just for the company and its workers, but for C-suites and shareholders - profits that increasingly come at the expense of workers and consumers alike - the greediest, most inhumane corporations set the financial yardstick against which all others are then, of necessity, measured. Which means that, while businesses are not obliged to be greedy and inhumane in order to exist, overwhelmingly, they become greedy and humane in order to compete, because capitalism encourages it, and because there are precious few legal restrictions to stop them from doing so. At the same time, a handful of megacorporations own so many market-dominating brands that, without both significant personal wealth and the time and resources to find viable alternatives, it's all but impossible to avoid them, while the ubiquity of the global supply chain means that, even if you can keep track of which company owns which brand, it's much, much harder to establish which suppliers provide the components that are used in the products bearing their labels. Consider, for instance, how many mainstream American brands are functionally run on sweatshop labour in other parts of the world: places where these big corporations have outsourced their workforce to skirt the already minimal labour and wage protections they'd be obliged to adhere to in the US, all to produce (say) electronics whose elevated sticker price passes a profit on to the company, but without resulting in higher wages for either the sweatshop workers overseas or the American employees selling the products in branded US stores.

When basically every major electronics corporation is engaged in similar business practices, there is no "vote" our money can bring that causes the industry itself to be better regulated - and as wealthy, powerful lobbyists from these industries continue to pay exorbitant sums of money to politicians to keep government regulation at a minimum, even our actual votes can do little to effect any sort of change. But even in those rare instances where new regulations are passed, for multinational corporations, laws passed in one country overwhelmingly don't prevent them from acting abusively overseas, exploiting more desperate populations and cash-poor governments to the same greedy, inhumane ends. And where the ultimate legal penalty for proven transgressions is, more often than not, a fine - which is to say, a fee; which is to say, an amount which, while astronomical by the standards of regular people, still frequently costs the company less than the profits earned through their unethical practices, and which is paid from corporate coffers rather than the bank accounts of the CEOs who made the decisions - big corporations are, in essence, free to act as badly as they can afford to; which is to say, very. Contrary to the promise of the free market, therefore, we as consumers cannot meaningfully "vote" with our dollars in a way that causes "good" businesses to rise to the top, because everything is too interconnected. Our choices under global capitalism are meaningless, because there is no other system we can financially support that stands in opposition to it, and while there are still small businesses and companies who try to operate ethically, both their comparative smallness and their interdependent reliance on the global supply chain means that, even if we feel better about our choices, we're not exerting any meaningful pressure on the system we're trying to change. Which means that, under the free market, trying to be an ethical consumer is functionally equivalent to a young woman dressing modestly, not going out alone and minding her drink at parties in order to avoid being raped. We're not preventing corporate predation or sending a message to corporate predators: we're just making sure they screw other worker, the other consumer, the other guy.

All of which is to say: while I'd prefer not to live in a world where shooting someone dead in the street is considered a valid means of redressing grievances, what the murder of Brian Thompson has shown is that, if you provide no meaningful recourse for justice against abusive, exploitative members of the 1%, then violence done to those people will have the feel of justice, because it fills the void left by the lack of consequences for their actions. It's the same reason why people had little sympathy for the jackass OceanGate CEO who killed himself in his imploding sub, or anyone whose yacht has been attacked by orcas - it's just intensified here, because where the OceanGate CEO was felled by hubris and the yachts were random casualties, whoever killed Thomspon did so deliberately, because of what he did. It was direct action against a man whose policies very arguably constituted manslaughter at scale; a crime which ought to be a crime, but which has, to date, been permitted under the law. And if the law wouldn't stop him, can anyone be surprised that someone might act outside the law in retaliation - or that regular people would cheer for them when they did?

[cyanidas]

hey this is actually one of the hardest things ive ever tried to do with my time as an artist. how the FUCK do etsy/shopvee/redbubble artists do this for a LIVING????

BIG News: I'm trying to make some really huge changes, and I'll need your help.

Before I grant any details, I gotta preface everything with the reality of our situation; Jay, the sole breadwinner, has been a victim of yet another "new hire surprise fire". He was booted without warning, written or verbal, about two weeks ago.

Evidently this is very common in the production wood/metalworking industry, otherwise this wouldn't have happened so many fucking times, because he's a great person with amazing work ethic and that's not just my bias talking - most of his coworkers have felt the exact same way as me across every company he's worked for.

Of course, THAT DAY we wasted no time in reaching out to contacts and applying for mountains of positions on Indeed, on company websites, and the state hiring portal. Nobody has contacted him back. ONE hiring agency gave him a "maybe". Even I have applied to several places for myself, with not so much as a rejection.

Seeing the trauma this caused him first hand was my final fucking straw.

I'm sick to death of suffering this tragedy. I'm sick to death of hearing the love of my life, my Fiancé, cry because of how he was fired. And I'm sick to death of coming here or crawling to my friends and family for money they don't have because we're legitimately hopeless for it.

I don't have the heart to continually beg for cash. It was never something I've been good at or proud of doing, and it kills me inside to DM people for commissions I don't even have the time nor energy to do. I'm sick of this. All of this. I need it all to stop.

So of course, I want to nip this in the goddamn bud.

I met a very sweet vendor in Iowa who gave me a load of resources on how to get started selling my art on actual things I get to see and hold for myself and hand to people in person, namely conventions. It's a hell of a risk but I need this to work. I'm so exhausted from asking for money so please help me make this be the last time I ever need to come here for help.

More details will come, because I'm also tired of making plans and leaping forward without having anything to show for it. When I actually have these products designed, that's when I'm going to show you guys everything I've made, with as much detail on my thinking and planning as I can get out there (because lord knows the internet has taken advantage of people's generosity before).

When that time comes, please *please* give me your support. It would legitimately be world-changing for us.

I just wanted to get this out here asap so people would know what I'm going through and, hopefully plan along with me. I don't just want this to happen, I *need* this to *succeed*. I don't have any other option. Right now, I'm busting my ass on product designs (literally because this chair hurts!!), and Jay can attest to that.

I plan on having *something* to show for all my hard work by next week, and soon after, a Kickstarter to make it a reality. Keep an eye out!!

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 2 | Gothically Yours

summary: you’ve forced your boyfriend to let you do goth makeup on him and the experience turns out to be more fun than he could have expected, leaving both of you giggling while laying on the floor together…

warnings: FLUFF none! Just fluffy soft!bf!chris and his goth girlfriend playing around 😋

authors note: here we goo, second day of NNN done already. this idea was brought to me by @cupiidk1lls and basically all thanks to her for the idea, we’ve been brainstorming over it together too and how it should go. Sorry if this is a bit short too but idk how to make them longer without repeating the same things over and over again lol, hope y’all enjoy

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

I scavenge through my makeup bag, preparing all of the products for a fun little activity I’ve managed to force Chris into today. Doing my style of makeup on him, he as per usual opens a can of pepsi and take a simple sip, we both sit in front of the mirror in my room with a variety of different stickers of my favorite bands and artists adoring the rims and edges of it as quiet rap music plays from the record player I have in my room. It was Chris’s choice today so thats why theres lil skies playong on the background, Ive bought vinyl records of the albums he listens to the most just so both of us can listen to the music we like.

He starts quietly singing along to the song currently playing by the time I turn my head to put on his headband to get his hair out of his face for once. "You like this song?" I ask, turning my head back to my makeup bag. Chuckling at his sudden musical interest, “Of course I like the song, it’s my favorite!” He states cheeringly which makes me giggle, after making sure I have everything I glance back at my canvas for today which is my boyfriend’s face. Grabbing the headband I put it over his head and pull it onto his forehead finally revealing his full face that’s always covered by his long ass hair.

“Finally I can see your full face.” I state slightly teasing, just to mess with him as I place a gentle kiss on his forehead which leaves faint black residue from my lipstick. He looks behind me at himself in the mirror and immediately notices the marks on his forehead, “Whats that on my forehead?” He questions and his eyes land on me and my black lips, already figuring out what it is. A soft chuckle erupts from his throat as he wipes it off with his hand while going back to looking at himself in the mirror. “Bro I look weird as fuck in this headband thingy.” “No, you don’t.” “Just look at me!” He argues and gestures to the mirror for me to look.

I turn my head and glance at him in the mirror, a slight pout playing on his lips. “You look fine, don’t be dramatic.” I reply before moving onto the main task at hand, he puts a hand on his chest for a more dramatic effect. “I’ll be as dramatic as I like, thank you very much.” Chuckling at his statement I pick up the first products and start to work on the base of his makeup. Blending in the products together with a beauty blender, his face already appearing whiter than ever. He glances over my shoulder again at himself in the mirror and decided to drop a comment. “Now I look like Casper the ghost.”

“Stop moving, Chris!” I comment softly, grabbing his face and again making him face me so I can continue my work. He mumbled a quiet “yes ma’am” under his breath before becoming still but I could feel his hands creeping up to rest on my hips to pull me closer to him as soon as I pull my hands way from his face. As I add the powdered products, I go over his nose and he sneezes from the tickle. “What was that?” He asks, glancing down at the brush with powder on it that made him sneeze so suddenly and raises an eyebrow. “It’s just powder, now just stay still in about to do your eyeliner.” I answer, going over his face with the brush again to apply the rest of the powder needed on his face.

Now moving onto the next step which is my favorite and really brings the look together, the eye makeup. I pick up the eyeliner along with a small fluffy brush and my pallet I use everyday. I start of with base eyeshadow, creating a smoky eye before finally opening the eye liner and starting to outline the shape. “How long is it gonna take you to finish?” I chuckle at his slight impatience, deep down I know he wants it to take longer than expected because he secretly enjoyed me doing makeup on him since we always end up as two laughing messes on the ground.

“It’s not gonna take me too long, don’t worry.” Then I go back to doing his eye makeup, now filling in his wing with the black eyeliner. Out of the corner of my eye I notice him admiring me as I do his makeup, I can’t help but let a small smile spread across my face at his eyes constantly being glued to my face. “Y’know you’re cool as fuck. Right?” He asks, tilting his head in question as if he’s never said those words to me. “You’ve told me that before today already.” “I know but I can’t help speaking the truth, ma.” His words earn him a deserved kiss on the lips, a sweet smirk appears on his face as he takes this opportunity to gently tackle me to me the ground and littler multiple kisses on my face.

I start giggling my ass off from the feeling left behind each one of the kisses before finally speaking between laughter. “You’re gonna ruin my makeup!” My words don’t make him surrender and only fuel him more to start tickling my sides, causing me to flinch slightly and intensify my laugh. “My-“ kiss “beautiful-“ kiss “goth-“ kiss “queen.” He says between each and single kiss as my laughter attaches onto him and infect him with my contagious giggles. He drops down next to me on the ground and we start laughing even harder than before completely out of nowhere, our surrounding becoming nonexistent as the only thing that’s left is just our laughing forms on the ground.

Guestlist!

| - @sturnioloblues - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - |

[nickistuffs]

Design Choices

Hi, I’m back with some inspiration! As a designer in product development, this photo really resonates with me.

Pairing: Harry x Designer Reader (curvy or plus size—whatever you feel works best! This is just my preference 😌)

Summary: Harry invites you to a Pleasing meeting.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: None. Just fluff 💗

Please enjoy! I’m just doing this for fun.

✨masterlist✨ ...

Today, Harry had a meeting for his cosmetics brand, Pleasing. While getting ready, he saw his girlfriend sitting at her desk, working on designs and 3D renders for various brands vying for her talent.

He’d always wanted to add Y/N to his team of designers or do a small collaboration. However, being the shy and offline person she is, Y/N mostly kept her work to her portfolio and artworks online, with little to no social media presence. She’d told him before that she didn’t want to be seen as the girl who got work because of her boyfriend—something Harry found ridiculous since he would’ve gladly welcomed her on the team if she’d asked.

After slipping on his socks, he tiptoed to her workspace, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and placed soft kisses on her head. Briefly, he watched her work on what appeared to be a floor plan for a coffee shop. An idea crossed his mind, one he hoped she’d be open to.

“Hey, baby. Are you busy today?”

“Uhmm, not really. I’m just finishing my files, and my meeting got moved to tomorrow. Why?” she replied while continuing to type up details and notes for her contractors.

“Well, if you’re done with that, would you like to join me in a meeting today?”

She quickly saved her file and closed her laptop, looking at Harry with curiosity.

“For… your next album?”

“No, silly! For Pleasing. We’re finalizing some packaging boxes and stickers for a new nail polish release this New Year.”

“Oh! Right, sorry. My mind’s been all over the place.”

“No worries, love. So, do you want to come?”

“Sure, but can you pack my stuff for me? I’ll just go change.”

“Go ahead. I’ll take care of it for you.”

Harry rummaged through her work bag, filled with her essentials: a pen case, notebooks, journals, sample swatches, three different types of measuring tools, and other knick-knacks she might need for meetings or site visits. Knowing her, inspiration—or a design mishap—could strike at any moment. He added her laptop and earphones to the bag just as she walked back into the room.

“Ready! Do you have my bag, babe?”

“Yup, everything’s secured. I’ll just put on my shoes, and we can go.”

...

As Harry drove them to Pleasing’s unofficial office, he broke the silence.

“Babe, thank you for coming with me today. I thought you’d say no and stay home.”

“Well, I know I’ve said I didn’t want to be part of the product development team, but I still want to support you. If going to this meeting means so much to you, I’ll gladly hop in when I’m free.”

At a red light, Harry grabbed her hand and kissed it gently. ...

When they arrived at the small office, Harry and Y/N were greeted warmly and offered coffee, pastries, and nuts. She placed her bag on the floor and settled onto the couch, her eyes immediately drawn to the sparkly, hot-pressed foils on the PR boxes inside a nearby cardboard box.

“You can touch them if you like,” said Harry’s head designer.

“Thank you. Harry, may I?”

“I know you’re dying to feel it, love. Don’t let me stop you.”

Harry smiled at her excitement as she examined the new products Pleasing had created. He silently observed her body language, sweating a little as he hoped nothing was out of place—knowing how detail-oriented she was.

“These are so nice. The feel is great. Do you have options where the box is fully foiled or mixed with matte finishes for texture variety?”

A sigh of relief escaped Harry’s lips as he saw her getting into her element.

“Yeah, we have all of that here,” the head designer replied. “Here are the inserts, the bottles, and other packaging we’ve printed, along with the initial samples, if you want to try them.”

They laid everything out on the table. Y/N immediately locked eyes with Harry.

“These are amazing! The supplier you got is really good. You have to tell me who they are!”

Harry chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“It’s a secret, love. I can’t reveal that to the competition. I might even ask the team to whip up an NDA before you leave.”

The three of them laughed at Harry’s joke, but soon the meeting shifted into a more serious tone. Work began in earnest, with Harry choosing his preferred designs, giving feedback, and discussing limitations and options with the team.

Meanwhile, Y/N started snapping photos of Harry looking serious, as well as top-down shots of the table and the stickers he was pointing to.

**“What do you think, love?” Harry asked.

“Sorry, I was distracted. Can you say that again, babe?”

“I asked if we should add another color to the collection, or if this is enough?”

“Well, is it in your budget? I thought you already finalized a color story. Adding another might confuse the supplier if it’s a last-minute change. I’d recommend saving it for your next release or an expansion of the range, maybe with a different collaborator.”

Harry nodded, impressed by her quick, thoughtful response. He felt a surge of pride, knowing he was in a relationship with someone as brilliant and passionate as she was. ... Thank you so much for reading! I have more in store and might write again soon. See you! 💗

[soxcietyy]

Uhuh, I got it, maybe everyone being surprised when yuta deals with you being a crybaby

Like maybe you have a reputation for being a cry baby. A scrap your crying a sad movie crying you store ran out of your favorite drink you holding back tears while telling the clerk "no it's ok"

I imagine this being modern au but do as you want 🤣

Alright alright I think I got it🧍‍♀️

Nobody is surprised when you start crying. You were known to be such a sensitive person and nobody blamed you for it. The jujitsu world was harsh but you tend to cry over the smallest things. That being a sad movie, seeing old people eat alone, seeing stay animals on the streets and worst. Your friends where so used to it that sometimes they watched you cry or waited for Yuta to come along and console you. They’ve never seen it really happen though. Usually they would leave the two of you behind and go on with there mission/day.

Then Yuta had to suddenly leave to Africa and well you were a mess. They had absolutely no idea on how to deal with you. Maki would try to make you feel better by being positive.

"We’ll look at the bright side you saved yourself twenty bucks." Maki said as the both of you watched a 13 year old take the last makeup product you were really looking forward too. It was trending all over Japan and you were dying to get your hands on it. You had to wait for pay day to come in so you could get your hands on it though.

You turned to look at Maki with eyes already watering.

"But I wanted it for days now! What’s a kid going to do with makeup?" Tears start to roll down.

Maki looked at you and then the little girl contemplating the solution in her head."Fine, I’ll fight the little twerp." Maki said pulling her sleeves up.

You quickly grab your arm and shake your head telling her it was fine. Maki panicked not wanting to cause a scene in the store. She then patted your back and continued to say more positive things but nothing seemed to work. At the end you both went home as you cried.

Panda and Inumaki tend to try to make you laugh. As you guessed it doesn’t work. It seemed like everything they’ve done has failed.

Then the next year rolled around and Maki would pray that someone would be able to put up with you. That also didn’t happen sadly. The first time they witnessed you cry was over your Ice cream that fell onto the ground. They all looked shocked and looked at the second years for help.

Today you decided to cry over a failed test grade. You held the paper in your hands as you looked at the biggest 69 smacked on the paper. Gojo made sure to emphasize that you failed by putting a crying cat sticker on it.

Panda turned to see your eyes watering. He slowly turned his paper around to hide his passing grade. "It’s okay y/n I also failed."

You look up at him with such a sad face. "You’re the worst liar!" You cry harder. Everyone knew panda was one of the smartest. Before Maki could even step in to try to help out she was stopped by a hand. They all looked to see it was Yuta who was back. Panda wanted to yell that he was here but Maki punched him in the arm. It was a blessing that Yuta came back early from his trip. She didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

He came in from behind you and gave you a tight hug. Trying to keep your hairs away from your face at the same time.

"Wow y/n you almost passed! You’ve improved so much since I left." Yuta said as he looked at your paper with tear drops all over it. "I already took this test when I was abroad and flunked it. (Biggest lie ever) Do you think we could study together so we can score higher?" Yuta asks looking at you for approval.

You give him a small nod as you wipe your face. you didn’t know who you were talking to but you were okay with studying with someone else. "No more crying okay? You won’t be able to see what you got wrong while we go over it." He pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped your face. He tends to always carry tissue because of you and well it comes in handy. Maki almost jumped out of her seat when she saw you stopped crying.

You finally look at him with red eyes. Then your eyes widen when you noticed who it was."Since when you were back? You where gone for so long and- and I was so sa" You say as tears started to roll down again not being able to finish your sentence. He laughs and hug you tighter than last time.

"I just got back! No more crying y/n, if you stop crying we can go get that makeup product you kept writing to me about." He says as he pats your head.

"About that, it’s pretty much sold out everywhere." Maki said

"Then we’ll just preorder it, or wait till it drops again. It’s not gone forever, for the mean time we can try out new products." Yuta said as he held you. You were still crying but not because of the grade or the product. It was because of how much you missed him and he understood that. He was going to make sure to spend the whole day with you no matter what.

Really short and sweet :)

[skelotom]

So 2024 was kinda wild.

Below is the long-winded and sappy ramblings of a lich (me), so feel free to continue scrolling. I hope 2025 treats you well.

I didn't really start making art until March, but made nearly 200 renderings over the course of the year. I think I made maybe 10 total in 2023...so it is safe to say this year was more productive. I barely knew how to use blender at this time last year, I still barely know how to use it, but at least I know slightly more now.

Not every project was a wild success, I still have *a lot* to learn about making music. I also doubt my book will ever get published...but even just getting those projects done is a win.

I also met tons of people I never imagined I would talk to, let alone become friends with.

2024 hasn't been all sunshine and rainbows (I'll spare you specifics), but it is still miles better than my average year. I can't complain.

This year I will probably slow down with the renderings. But the posts I do make will be a bit longer. I like my longer form multi-frame comics and stories. I hope you do too.

I also have a day job that will start taking much more of my time. I really need to start studying/taking exams to get licensed as an architect. The six exams will suck. And studying will eat quite a lot of time. That will also suck.

Also shockingly, living a near completely sedentary lifestyle is not very healthy. I need to fit going to the gym into my life somewhere so I don't waste away completely. Being a skeleton irl is actually not very fun at all.

This year looks hectic, and kinda scary. Fascists are scary...But we'll get through it. Thanks for reading this far, and thank you for coming along for the ride.

Potential Projects for 2025:

-Online store with prints, buttons, and stickers

-Erin finally learns grease pencil in blender

-More short stories and comics

-Another attempted book? one that might actually get published? (more on this later)

-????

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Cucumbers shipped to several provinces have been recalled due to a potential salmonella contamination. SunFed Produce says its whole fresh American cucumbers, which were sold between Oct. 12 and Nov. 26, are being recalled after the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) associated the product with reported salmonella cases. SunFed issued its own recall in a news release Wednesday. It said affected cucumbers were packaged in bulk cardboard containers labelled with the “SunFed” label, or in a generic white box or black plastic crate with a sticker that provides the implicated grower’s name, “Agrotato, S.A. de C.V.”

Article was posted on November 30, 2024.

Continue reading

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

[spaghettioverdose]

Am I stupid or something because I agree with all of your post but I don't know what's wrong with small businesses. Am I a capitalist because I'm disabled and can only make money selling stickers or am I missing a bigger picture

Because this is tumblr and people in the notes will immediately read three lines of this and accuse me of pissing on the poor, I will begin with a disclaimer that I am neither comparing you to a Elon Musk nor calling you evil.

So, you sell stickers. I would assume that in this context you are selling your own stickers with your own designs, rather than working as a cashier selling someone else's stickers, since you're disabled and you mentioned you can't work a job. You are therefore selling a product you own (whether you produce the stickers entirely yourself or use a 3rd party company) for a profit at a (presumably) online store instead of selling your labour power for a wage. This, by definition would make you petit bourgeois.

When communists talk about class positions, it is not a question of an individual's morality, motivation or amount of income.

Being a small business owner (or petit bourgeois), means that your class interests and the class interests of the workers (the proletariat) come into conflict. As a clear example, let's say in this scenario that you are selling a sticker design on a 3rd party website that specialises in this service, and they source the actual physical stickers from factories around the world. Here, you are essentially selling your intellectual property to the company in exchange for some of the profits from its further sale. Perhaps many of those factories are in the global south, in countires with very low wages and few worker protections (due to intervention from imperial core bourgeoisie powers). One day, the political struggle for worker rights and higher wages is won in some of these countries, driving up the cost of production for the stickers. Perhaps there is also a victory for a union of delivery service workers at home in the imperial core, driving up wages and protections for them as well, further cutting into profits.

The function of the 3rd party sticker company is to strive for ever-increasing profits the capitalists who own it and its investors. The cut in profit will have to be made up elsewhere. This will be done by investing in political groups that are willing to repress worker movements within these countries, shifting production to countries that have yet to achieve these worker victories, cutting corners on their imperial core workers, increasing their price of service by taking a larger cut of your profits, or a mixture of some or all of these.

In that scenario, the proletarian class interests (higher wages, more protections and regulations) are in direct conflicts with the interests of the bourgeois 3rd party sticker company (higher profits, meaning lower wages and less protections and regulations) and by extension, yours, as your class interests also revolve around profit. When workers gain more power, it cuts into your profits. As a petit bourgeois, you are incetivised to support and pursue bourgeois and petty bourgeois politics such as IP laws.

As an individual, you can be whatever kind of person with whatever politics and views you have. As a petit bourgeois small business owner, you have a certain class position that comes with a certain set of class interests. You can always choose to forego your own class interests and instead support the class interests of the proletariat by being a communist even while continuing to be petit bourgeois or even as full on bourgeois. Very notable example being Engles who, although he was a factory owner, he was also one of the two founders of marxism, with the other one being Marx.

The point I was trying to make in the post that probably got you to send this anon, is that there isn't anything inherently communist or "leftist" about supporting small businesses. It is both an incredibly common liberal policy and talking point to support small business, and it does not serve the interests of a proletarian political movement to protect the petit bourgeoisie or ally with them, except in certain instances and involving certain sections of the petit bourgeois, rather than a blanket statement of saying that the small business owner is a nobler form of capitalist.

[corinadraws]

Sticker designs for a Demon Slayer AU zine that unfortunately couldn't continue its production. Pls enjoy these drawings for now!

[aktyzine]

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[cutieeva]

My Sweet Little Girl

Female Reader

Warnings : Abusive and toxic relationship. Murder. Attempt Murder. PTSD. Revenge porn.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 :

Is moving on with life is possible when haunting dead is hot on heels and mind ?

Her finger tips is cool to the touch of the sliver frame that is design in circles like of a bent soft feather could be, beautifully arch and terribly divine. Her (E/C) eyes felt familiar to the beauty, sight following the center of the frame that is wrapped around. A neat huge mirror where her reflection stare back, bearing her nose, her skin, her mouth and eyes and hair. Even her sombre expression that she almost forget she was staring at her own self not at another sad woman she refuse to know.

Her eyes lift to the very above where the mirror's frame hold a diamond— a frown settle on her brows, uncertain if it's real or unsettlingly false from the shine and beauty. Then her eyes stare lower to the mirror, the height of the oval mirror is taller than her own, reminding her of someone. Someone close, dear to her heart once. He might have been perfect tall for the mirror unlike her. He always was she guess.

Her fingers continue to trace the dusty frame, feeling the metal and subtle changes when she caught the feeling of a paper beneath and look to find a white price sticker attached. She titls her head at the one word. Free.

Odd word. She thought. For such a ancient, timeless beauty this should have been placed to sell in an expensive auction at the first place not in an small antique shop let alone be brought free. "Unless something is wrong with the—". Her thoughts cut off.

"Nothing is wrong with the product". His voice startled her, flinching away from the frame and step back a little from the aged grinning man, his slender hands laced behind his back. "The free is because of the one who sold the mirror. Actually the original price of this product could not compare to my humble shop and the car I have brought from loan. Something only filthy rich can buy to show off not common civilians like us..." Grumbling the man said, distasteful in his voice. "But the lady was grieving saying someone close to her heart died belonged the mirror which was one of many things and she wants them to be out of sight however not have the heart to throw them into the trash nor sell them to other uncaring people. So, her only solution was to send all of her expensive products to many antique shop hoping only pure antique lovers would take care of the things that once belonged to her beloved dead". He finished and she raised her eyebrows still unclear why the free tag if it will be eventually sell to the people from antique shops instead of completely zero amount. But she had a hint.

The man notice and cleared his oak throat. "She did not want price attached to the products, the very reason she decided to sell to me, or more like given to me". As she expected, she nod.

"Well, good because I need it". She decide, leaving the part out for her fresh moved house. The man doesn't need to know such private information. The owner's grin wider, nodding and enthusiastically walking to his desk for the package and calling his worker to delivery the fragile mirror.

She step back a little, her red heels shimmers under the golden rays. Face shadowed by a hat as she watched the male worker holding the mirror carefully. It would be a lie if she is buying such fancy thing for mere decoration or in need, rather because deep inside a side of her always love to see the history of an ancient product, touching them, finding the little changes over the course of years. It was fun to collect until it wasn't and so one and half years after she moves to an unfamiliar town along an unfamiliar house leaving her family, friends behind.

She suppose the least she can do is recall her past self. The self she erased and moled into someone her love had loved.

"Mam !" She look at the aged man.

"Yes".  Soft her voice was.

"Please write your address where we can delivery". (Y/N) nod, holding the ball pen between her fingers to write quickly, away from the man's curious eyes, away from the sun's rays, away from everything if possible.

"Here". Hurried she let the pen fall and slide the paper towards him to hide her trembling hands below the wooden desk before his glinting eyes could spot. The man took it and smiled.

"Oh ! What a wonderful place you live in. Only people with enough money can live in Vallancia estate". His smile wider. "No wonder I felt like I didn't saw you in this town because you belonged there". He added causing her to swallow how sharp the man is.

Then she frown. Wait, why is so desperate to hide the fact she is new ? It's not funny. She knows it isn't so does she knows why she is so desperate to hide because she is afraid to be scammed and tear to pieces by the local in name of kindness. She is afraid they will take advantage of her unawareness around here.

She is terribly, terribly scared. All alone. Her chest rose and fell fast and breath heavy. "I-I will take my leave then. I will wait at 2 pm for my product unscathed". Not waiting for his answer she left, patting her chest to calm and hiding her face from the sun by her hat. It's ridiculous, truly is at how little things she has come to be afraid. Little things she loved to befriend once.

━━━━━━━

The mirror stood tall at her bedroom corner, beside her closet. It's magnificent she must compliment. Her eyes slide to the newly hanged clock over the wall. At perfect 2:00 pm did it arrived in it's cleaned glory. A smile lift her lips and that years later proud feeling bubble within her chest.

Still a smile over her lips, she went to unpack the boxes. Sitting on the red carpet on the white tiles beside the boxes, her fingers went though many things she had forgetton like her photo album, her collections of sea shells, her camera and so more. Skimming though the things she once knew feels like an foreign objects now, something she is gliding her eyes for the first time. Like she is knowing a self he had once. Like all her closest people had.

Now all is remain of her past self is hurt, broken and incomplete. Grim at the loathful thoughts she push the box and decide to unpack some other day. She has lots of time in her hand. Standing she went to the bathroom.

"I should take a relaxing bath". Mutter to herself, she choose a loose pair of cloth and enter inside nude, sliding inside the warm bath.

Warm bath are always her favorite, water trickling from her skin, his humming calming her thoughts, smile plaster on her lips she can't remove. Eyes close in the bliss when her legs were pulled, her eyes flutter open watching him holding her tender feet like fragile glass and messaging them. Her smile wider, his grin too.

Slowly little by little her smile wide further at the ticklish sensation of his fingers roaming up to her wet body. She waited, feeling up his childish play how he trace to her thigh, dangerous close to her private part— a part that was not unseen by him, then at her navel he loves to pepper kisses so much, her ribcage his palm always squzze a little before resting on her breast— his favorite to fondle and caress and her buds to engulf within his pair of lips then his fingers went up to her collarbone where the golden necklace of his gift lays. The letter R shines at the light then his fingers slide up to her neck he often licks and finally caress at her chin. Where he often than not lean in to kiss like now. Her ears ignore the splash sound of his leaning to her from the water of his other side to blend their lips one.

For eternal, for now— "Ah !" Her lips grasp and eyes wide open in fear. Shaking pupils stare at the end of bathtub where she felt like her legs were tugged. Slightly. She suppose ? Inhaling deeply she run her fingers in her hair and shake her thought. "I am going crazy". A little her voice echo at the lonely bathroom before she spring up realizing how cold the water had become and numb her body.

Shivering from the cool breeze brushing her skin she wrap a towel around her body, walking to the sink to wash her face clean. Her eyes stare at the mirror for a long time before applying the facewash and splash the water to her face.

A breath of relieve escape as she lift her face to the mirror and a scream tore her lips at the sight of a shadowed tall figure right behind her.

In fear she bent to the sink, tremble her entirety, breath heavy and blurry her vision became. "D-Deep breath. Deep bre-ath". Lifting her face again, slowly, utter slowly and her eyes close in relieve of no one standing this time. Not the shadow figure or anything close still her heart pound.

Stress must be affecting her mind. Wiping the escaped tears and continue her deep breaths, her fingers slide to the vacant neck.

━━━━━━

Fresh aroma of dish travel to the bedroom awakening her eyes as she snuggle more in the comfort of her morning, sliding further to hide away inside the soft blanket, pillow and his spice smell with hint of light cologne.

"Wakey. Wakey". Teasing his creamy voice was, drumming his finger tips over her bare shoulder. "Wakey". He repeat, voice softer at each word and she giggle at his kiss on her skin like he can't get enough of her. Something that always success in fluttering her heart at the new relationship they share.

"Hmm, dear majesty isn't waking up..." He tailed off, acting like he didn't heard her giggles and his finger on his chin. "Let's then—" She waited, closing her eyes in pretense of sleeping when a yelp left her at his sudden attack of fingers ticking her stomach. Her most sensitive part from beneath.

Laughter and chuckle fill the serene silence room. "Okay ! O-okay ! Stop I am wake !" Choked laugher let out, pushing his hands away the more he is nearing. "Stop ! I am awake !" She cries and he laughs, laying on her back, facing her meanie boyfriend. A man who loves to tease her, a lot.

"You are bad". Pouting she said, looking away in act. He tilt his head, smiling on his charming face she still remembers how flustered she had became upon their first meeting.

"Am I ?" He snuck his hands beneath her body to embrace and rest his chin on her chest.

"Yes you are". He made a oh sound.

"Then..." He tail off, climbing over her "If I am bad. I am your bad boy". With his contiguous laughter he begin pepper kisses over all her face, pulling pure happiness out of her. "Don't you love this meanie, badie boy ?" He peck on her eye lids, nose, cheeks, forehead, chin. "Don't you ?"

She wrap her arms around him, pressing their bodies together. "Yes, I do !—

(Y/N) open her eyes to silence. No birds chirping nor the clock alarm she set yesterday.

Beep. Beep. She is earlier than the clock. Unusual for someone who disliked waking up early in the morning. Guess, people grow up and change. Sitting up, her stomach growl. Her feet slide to her slippers, walking to downstairs the open kitchen.

Alone the house is as it should be and her hands open the upper cabinets to reach the box of rainbow cereals she manage to unpack and keep. Within minutes she found a cleaned bowl along cleaned spoon and only bottle of milk in the fridge reminding her to do groceries and begin eating it, leaning her body to the sink and listening to her own munching sounds apart from eerie silence.

Her eyes lay on the kitchen, drafting to the past.

"What did you made ? Masterchef Rylanox" Joking she add the title despite him aiming to become one and to her, he always will be the best chef.

"Nothing much. Egg sandwich, bacons and some salads and milk". She nod, picking the spoon he provide and ate in hurry she almost burned her tongue.

"Ah !" She yelp causing him to near her and caress her cheek.

"Calm down, no one is going to snatch your food away". Rylanox said, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek and brought a tiny piece of ice to put in her mouth. "Swirl around it until it melts or if feel too icy then spit it out. Understood ?" (Y/N) nod like a good girl she was earning a smile.

"My sweet little girl". His favorite endearment to use as if he was older when they were around the same age. 21.

"Ah !" In daze she burned her tongue, spilling the food out in the sink and drinking cold water to numb the pain. She suppose one thing didn't change, her carelessness. She grim hating how if she changed why not change for the better entirely. Sighing she throw the remaining she didn't have appetite to eat anymore.

Ring ! Ring ! Ring ! (Y/N) turn her head to the living room, in front of the sofa is the house telephone ringing. She walk fast to pick and put on her ear.

"Hello". She greet. Silence she heard and she waits and waits for the other person in line to speak. "Hello ?" She gulp hearing nothing apart from silence. "Hello ? I am hanging up if you have nothing so say" She said about to hang up when a loud static ring so hard near her ear she slammed the phone down.

"Goodness". Little buzzes she felt on her right ear. Angrily she wonder who in the earth is pranking so early in the morning. "Must be the little kids". Aren't they little demons as much as little angels.

Ring ! Ring ! Ring ! (Y/N) flinch at the unexpected ring of telephone again. Her (E/C) eyes watched the shivers of red phone as it continue to buzz, filling in the air. Ring ! Ring ! She finally pick up, holding it near her ear without uttering a word, waiting for the other side to say.

However not a single sound came. Not a breathing, not even a breeze of wind and she slam the phone down.

"What was that ?" Her heart skip a beat. Kids these days are becoming bolder she swears.

Ring ! Ring ! Ring ! And the last ring about to close when her fingers pick the green telephone near her ear. "Hello !" She greet knowing already who the otherline was despite silence greeting her.

"You don't have to act when it's October. You know, I am fully aware this is you not some random or Billy Loomis from scream". Leaning on the counter her finger twirl the cords hearing his chuckle.

"Sweetie, you are no fun. Too smart to fool". He compliment, blushing her and stroking her ego.

"I know". Smirking she said.

"Narcissist much ?" She could already image mirth playing around his sky blue eyes.

"No, confident much". She replied earning more of his melody deep voice she loves to hear. "Then..." He tailed off, (Y/N) continue to not pay attention to his words, eyes lift to the kitchen window watching the full beauty of moon, smiling and drinking the fog clouding the night.

"Boo !" Her heart leap and scream tore from watching a figure pop on her window as she fell on her back. "Ah !" She whine, rubbing her back and heart pumping blood to veins faster as eyes look up, little over the counter to see her boyfriend standing, holding his smartphone near his guffaw mouth.

"You bastard !" She cursed.

Standing (Y/N) scan the piles of boxes debating where to unpack now or later. And she decide to procrastinate walking to her laptop sat on the glass tea table.

Comfortably she sit on the lush sofa, pulling the device on her lap, pressing the on button and the moment it lit up, she regret a little staring back at her own alone self, standing while holding her graduate degree in the photo with a forced smile under the scorning sun. Her thought draft to how he should have been beside her, holding his chef degree however he didn't and it satisfy her for hidden reasons.

━━━━━━━

Soft touches brush against her neck. Feather light and gentle they are and awful familiar too. Soon her close eyes discover they are hands, and the fingers hold her soft and (S/C) skin. Tender they were before tighten they become. She whimper at the feeling, breathing hitch and brows furrow as a weight lay over her body, huge than her, deepen the darkness further and the grip tighten, tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter until she couldn't breath, strangled cries let out, eyes barely open as water fill them. Nails harshly scrape the unmovable force, still she dug harder and it tighter, the more she fight, the harder it become that she felt herself floating suspended in a sea of terror.

Cries and tear bleed together.

She open her eyes and...

Nothing.

No tall midnight figure, no distorted monster, no human. Nothing but darkness with hint of moonlight sweeping through the drawn curtain windows. In mist of swallowing her dry throat and restricted chest, her fingers tap the switch of light and her sight glide around finding nothing lurking even under the bed only to rest upon the mirror and for some reason an uneasy feeling slit her stomach.

The more she stare at her self from the bed the more the feeling increase as if entrance she can't look away—. 

I know you. I walked with you once upon a dream.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

"What ?" She utter, heart picking up again at the song playing inside her house from downstairs she assume.

And I know it's true, that visions are seldom what they seem

The song continue to play. (Y/N) begin crying again in fear, watching the closed door when a fleeing thought came. Did she lock the door ?"

But if I know you

What if she didn't and the intruder come in ? Someone is in her house. Fist clenched and tears roll down silently she close her eyes and count to three to one to ran.

I know what you'll do

Three.

Two.

One.

She sprinted in silence, her feet pounding the ground, and grasped the golden doorknob, twisting and locking it with a desperate urgency. As she caught her breath, two stark realities dawned on her: the oppressive silence had replaced the sweet serenade, and she was holding her breath in terror.

Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes, exhaustion and fear threatening to consume her. But before she could find solace, a faint whimper pierced the air. The doorknob began to turn, resisted only by the lock's fragile hold. Someone was pushing against the door, their body weight straining the wooden frame, threatening to splinter it.

She recoiled, her back peeling away from the door as if scalded. Turning her face, she clamped her palm over her lips, stifling the cries that trembled on their way out.

You'll love me at once

The way you did once upon a dream

The song begin again. Her favorite song she listened with him as they dance, bubbling their little world where only they existed. Him and her only.

(Y/N) quickly pick her phone from the drawer, biting her hand to hold the fearful cries, calling the emergency. "Pick up ! Pick up ! Pick up !"

But if I know you

I know what you do

The haunting melody and the persistent banging at the door transported her back to a day she long tried to forget. The memory of that agonizing wait, clutching her phone as it rang incessantly, with no reassuring voice on the other end to save her, came flooding back. Today, like then, desperation clawed at her soul.

"Please, please, please," she whispered, her pleas lost. She wasn't sure who she begged– the universe, a higher power, or perhaps herself– but she clung to the fragile thread of hope.

You love me at once

The way you did once upon a dream.

"Hello, this is 911. What's your emergency ?" And the ray of hope stretch it's hand from darkness. With a relieve, she cries.

"S-someone, I-I don't know. Som-eone is trying to o-pen the door". She cries, her ears peeking how the song stop, only her strangled cries and the polite mam's voice flowing in.

"Okay, mam. I understand, I will dispatch police cars right away but you have to share your address". The lady's voice went over her head as fears consumed her. Again, again that night repeated the cause of her moving away, staring fresh. "Hello ? Mam ? Please calm down and stay in the line. Please share your address". She cries harder not knowing if she even did the simply task.

━━━━━━

"(Y/N) open the door ! (Y/N) open the door ! (Y/N) open the fucking door". Banging threat to tear the door and she tremble, fearing for her life, hand coming to touch her neck and wince, recoiling her hand when recalling how painful it was. "God damn (Y/N) ! You can't always stay in the bathroom. Come outside I am sorry, it was my fault. Come here darling. I am sorry".

His raging voice scared her more she wanted to yell, but didn't, her back touch the cold wall and she cries silently hoping, praying for him to go when her sight caught the mirror in the bathroom. Her eyes wide in surprise and lips part staring at the mixture of blue and purple hue around her neck. She didn't know how bad it looked, slowly her steps forward to the mirror, fingers gazing to touch because it feels surreal. Not true.

Her boyfriend, her sweet boyfriend that never even raise his voice when angered did this to her is pure nightmare, she isn't ready to face the reality. She isn't. No. No. No. No. No. No. It must be a accident, it must be. No way.

The banging and his voice become a white noise she was too lost to stop her doubt creeping in. Questioning is this his true self ? Is this how he was ? But it slipped ? Evil voices merge together so much when she caught the tall figure right behind her. It was too late, she screamed in horror and tried to ran past him but he was stronger, faster holding her in the place he desired.

She blindly punched, kick his legs, screaming in hopes of someone hears her when Rylanox groans, slamming his hand over her lips and caging her between his body and the sink.

"Shuu". He hushed her, holding her tightly as she cries louder. "Shu ! Shut up ! I am sorry, I am sorry (Y/N), I am sorry I was bad. It was an accident I swear". Apologies in his tip, uttering thousand times that it lose it's meaning now.

"Calm down ! FUCKING CALM DOWN !" He yell, flinch her and scaring her so hard, she stopped, her hands limp on her side and legs stand wobbly, wailing turn to sobbing. "Sorry, sorry. I was angry. I am sorry. Good, my sweet little girl, stay like this". His sweaty palm comb her locks out of face, wipe her tears as the other remove from her lips.

"I am sorry. It was an accident. I was drunk—".

"So you strangled me ?" Angrily she utter, cutting his nonsense to which he deeply inhale.

"I am sorry, okay ? I fucked up. I know that, the alcohol in my system just mess up my brain so—". He pause searching words she knew wasn't enough to justify his actions. "—I am sorry, I truly am". He settle on those words in last.

(Y/N) look away, a shudder ran her body at the image of his crazed eyes loomed over her, haunting her mind's eye—the same eyes that had once gazed at her with affection. His hands, once gentle, grasped her neck like a vice before he was simply kissing her, being sweet to her only to spiral into someone she couldn't recognize, couldn't see for the tears flooding her eyes and black, colorful dots dancing in her vision as she was fighting for her life to the man she thought would fight for her, not from him.

She regrets opening the door when he was drunk, regrets walking the straved lion to her bedroom to sleep together when he push her on the bed gently, she giggled unaware of what about to happen as he press kisses, hands roaming around her body, all at once before gazing at her neck and leading to this.

"(Y/N) ? (Y/N) ? (Y/N) ? Please look at me—".

"Miss. (Y/N) !" She look at the pair of cops in front of her in daze, wrapping the shawl tighter feeling the brown hair-red cop from the black one was gazing at her too intimately.

"Yes". She replied to the black haired cop.

"We searched your entire house and property but unfortunately we found no one". (Y/N) nod hating the distant sound of it. "So, we think it might be the mischief neighbor children". (Y/N) frown, gazing at him.

"How children could easily come in and do such terrible things ? The phone ring—".

"The phone calls ?" He question, hand on his waist belt.

"Yes, today morning I had continuous phone calls but whenever I picked up, no one talked". He nod and she could imagine him believing entirely it's the children unlike her and she hated it.

"So—". The brown haired cop drawls. "—do you live alone ?" Her heart sink to her stomach, his eyes glinting is too familiar to him when he first asked her name. That amusing and excitement locking her in dilemma to say truth or lie.

She listened to her gut feeling. "No. My parents are out of town". She lies watching the glint melt. Police were never her first choice anyways rather she dislike them for not doing their duty that civilians pays taxes for them to keep. It's infuriating.

"Oh". His voice drop and the black haired cop scoff lightly.

"Well, then if anything happens do not hesitate to call us again. We will look out too". Those revised words she excuse she heard when cops can't do anything, watching them leave from the window before drawning the curtains. She could have asked, even pled them to stay if the brown haired cop was not bearing ill intention or at least flirtatious thoughts.

Why men are so greedy she wonder. Always want more than they can chew and she wants to die, wishing to disappear from the surface of the earth if it meant free from the pain, agony fill memories and regret. She wish she had told her parents, friends. Even his parents the truth. She should.

Sitting on the carpet, her eyes roll to the music box the song was haunting her and she went to pull the plug out when something else caught her corner of eyes. The telephone plug. It is not plugged.

And her mind reel and breath halted away. No. No. No. No. No. No. It can't be. If the phone is not plugged then how could it ring— ? It's not possible. It simply not possible. Maybe mice or some animal did it after it rang. Yes, that's the thing right ?

Aside from that there is no evidence how a unplugged telephone ring twice. (Y/N) nod, convincing her because otherwise.....the blood in her veins turn cold.

He isn't dead ?

No. No. No. He has to be dead. Because she with her own bare hands killed her boyfriend Rylanox.

━━━━━━

"You are trying to break up with me ? (Y/N) can you hear yourself ? You, trying to break up with me, Rylanox Slade". He grip her chin hard, daring her to bore her gaze into his angered ones. "And you were fool to think that I would agree and let you fuck someone else !" She cries, pushing him away in disgust of his thought.

"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you ! How more disgusting can you be ? Rather than trying to know the reason or even understand why we are breaking up, you care more about who I will have sex with ?" Tears swell her red rimmed more yet her voice horse like she cried for hours.

"Of course I will when you are mine !" His large palm hold her wrist tight she wince. "I do care who you fuck and not, whatever nonsense you are coming up to break up with me when we are happy !" He screamed, angering her further.

"Happy ? You say me crying and applying pounds of makeup everyday to hide your little accidents is called happy ? And you say that reasons are nonsense ?" The voices of his sound distant like she can't believe who the person is saying in front, not her beloved boyfriend she knew because he would never, he even swore in their first date to always be there to listen to her, protect her. Not hurt her. But if this is her boyfriend then she was a fool to not notice how a monster he was.

She was also a fool to come to a party of their mutual friend thinking he will not be here after she cowardly in phone announced their break up after that fateful night of him choking her to death. After that she feared for her life more than she loved him. But how ? How did he even know she would be here ? She was not a party person and her thoughts tangled when his grip on her wrist brought her back.

"I am talking to you !" He rest his forehead, jaw clenched and alcohol reek from his mouth she almost turn her head if not for his fingers holding her chin in place. "Look at me. We are not breaking up. We aren't. We never will be". His pled overshadowed the faint loud music from the living room, her (E/C) eyes stare into his teary blue ones and she almost saw the boy she fell for, not the monster that held her.

She swear, she was close to agreeing, close to embracing him and giving him a second chance and turn a blind eye however his words circle around her mind of how not once did he sincerely apologize for his mistakes, acknowledge them as messed up for better and try to be better instead of uttering them when needed and finding justification. If not for her then at least for his sake they need to break up.

She realize she loves him more than she can hate him so she decide to—

"Let's break up". Because if he truly loves her as he says then he will be better and she will take him without a second thought, forgive all his sins.

"What ?" However he did not share the same thought, his eyes disbelief and the grip loose. "What did you say ?" His voice barely above a whisper like he is afraid to hear it himself.

"I said let's break up for real". She repeat, her own heart breaking apart. "We can't stay together. Not when you are like this". Her voice crack in the end and a lonely tear slide. She glance at his clouded face, frown deepen and she move forward to rest their forehead as a unspoken goodbye. "I am sorry". She truly was and with that she walk away as he let her.

Her palm on the doorknob rest, twist it about to open.

"Ah". A moan halt her actions. "Harder ! Harder !" (E/C) eyes wide at her own voice, shamelessly moaning and her warm body turn cold, the air of outside whiff inside.

"Ah !" She moan again, louder than previous. (Y/N) can't believe her ears, her heart heavy, heart ratting like a rat against her cage. Behind her footsteps came, a hand from behind brush past her skin to gently push the door shut with a click.

He stood holding the phone— the source of her nightmare, of all girls horror while he tower over her like he had the power, smirk like the devil incarnation hug her waist. "You can still break up if you want. Unless of course". He chuckle like a joke it was to him. "You want to be the face of whores". Tears descend from her eyes. How low could he go to trap her ? chain her ?

"Aww," he cooed, his voice dripping with false tenderness as she sobbed. "Don't cry, my sweet little girl. I didn't record it secretly to take revenge or exploit you. You know me." His words reeked of insincerity. "I love you too much for that. I just wanted a token of our love, a reminder for when we're apart."

His voice cracked with amusement, sending shivers down her spine. "But who knew it would come in handy?" The laughter that followed was like a devil's chuckle, echoing in her mind, relentless and haunting. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

The sound was like an irritating mosquito buzzing in her ear, a constant reminder of his betrayal. Pain and anguish swirled inside her, threatening to consume her. She had trusted him, loved him, and this was how he repaid her ?

SLAP!

Rylanox's face jerked to the side, his cheek flaming crimson from the force of her blow. The sex tape in his hand seemed to fade into insignificance as her chest heaved with rage, her eyes blazing with betrayal.

"How dare you!" she thundered, her voice shredding the air. "How dare you try to blackmail me? Manipulate me into being your puppet?" Her palm throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the anguish and vulnerability ravaging her soul.

"I loved you," she spat, each word laced with venom. "I gave you everything – my heart, body, and soul. And this is how you repay me? recording our intimate moments without my permission and using them against me?" Her scream tore through the silence, veins bulging in her skin, eyes wide with disgust and hurt. For an instant, Rylanox's expression faltered, revealing a glimmer of remorse.

But anger quickly clouded his face, hardening his features.

"You forced my han—". She cut off his nonsense.

"No ! You fucking coward ! You forced my hand to break up ! I want you to know that we break up is because of you ! And you and you only !" She screamed. "And you know what's funny ? The video serves more prove why I should separate with you". She bitterly laughed at his face. He flinch at the tone. "Upload it. Upload for all the people to see and you will find my dead body to touch". At the word dead red painted his vision so his better judgment.

The next moment all happen in a fleeing motion, (Y/N) was pinned against the wooden door, her back colliding with it so forcefully that a strangled gasp escaped her lips as his both palms wrapped like a venomous snake around his neck, tighten at each passing second. "You know what my (Y/N) ? I want you dead than not being with me. So let's die together". Her eyes wide in that and his smirk grew, loving the fearful power over her. See, it doesn't make sense for both of them to live especially her apart from him let alone with someone else showing such cute expressions that belongs only to him.

"Ah !" With a frightening scream her eyes wide open, grasping for air in her lungs. His wicked smile imprint on her mind. Her eyes roll around finding herself engulf in darkness as her body lay on the carpet of the living room where she saw the— memories flash inside her mind making her crawl back to the wall, staring straight to the innocent unplugged cord. Sweat glisten at the peering moonlight and hand found her flipped smartphone, holding it and surprise to find a day pass since the cops came....yesterday.

She slept a day away ? More like faint.  Confusion greet her as she rarely slept since that day— the day she shut her mouth about despite all know the unhidden part of truth. Not the cloaked part of his dirty, nasty self she choose silence. It's alright thought, as long as her recording none know. She will take to her grave where she was the villain and he was the angel.

Standing up in the shaky legs she went inside her bedroom, locking the door and meeting the mirror and a suddenly doubt made her step towards it. If she carefully think, the moment this mirror grace her house all her paranoi—

Ring! Ring! Ring! The shrill sound pierced the air, shattering her fragile calm. Her thoughts snapped back to reality, and dread washed over her like a cold wave. Her lips quivered, and her eyes snapped shut as if to block out the unbearable truth.

He's not dead. He's come back to haunt her, to claim her as his own in death.

Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! Each ring grew louder, more insistent, and she covered her ears, desperate to block out the cacophony. Her hands trembled, and her breath came in ragged gasps.

But it was the impossible truth that made her stomach churn with terror: the telephone was unplugged. Yet, it rang on, a maddening, otherworldly sound that defied logic. This was no ordinary call. This was a summons from beyond the grave.

Silence. The abrupt cessation of the ringing left her breathless. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the eerie stillness that enveloped the house. The sudden quiet was oppressive, heavy with anticipation.

A pin drop would have been deafening in the vacuum of sound. Her ears strained, hyper-vigilant, and then she heard it – the faint click of someone picking up the phone.

The sound was like a spark to dry kindling, igniting her fear. Her heart skipped a beat as she waited, frozen, for the voice on the other end.

The pause seemed interminable, stretching her nerves to the breaking point. And then, a low, raspy breath echoed through the line.

"(Y/N) ! What the hell did you mean in the text let's break up ? Who do you think you are ? Out of nowhere writing something dangerous to get my attention ? This is so petty from you". That same deep voice of his sch the house. She stilled, unable to process how on earth is it speaking the same words he did when she announced their break up on phone following the horrible phone ringing on her house phone as she blocked him on her own. Yet it was before the storm. That incident.

She recalled the terror vividly, like it was yesterday. Days of relentless calls from unknown numbers, forcing her to change phones, only to have him breach the new barrier, invading her landline. "I said what I said, let's break up". The same words he heard to be angered.

"You !! This is about that night ? Isn't it ?" He sounded so, so angry and wounded she wanted to smooth when she was the cause.

"Yes". Said honestly. She heard him exhale.

"Please don't do this to yourself. To me. To us". Pleading his voice, dangerously edge to crying she recalled herself crying with him.

"I'm sorry. No." She whispered to the darkness, tears streaming down her face as remorse and anguish consumed her.

Memories flooded back, transporting her to that fateful day. She relived the horror of holding the phone as he slammed it down, the sound echoing in her mind.

"I'll watch how," his menacing voice still lingered, sending shivers down her spine.

The sudden slam of the phone shattered the silence, making (Y/N) jump. The ensuing stillness was oppressive, a haunting reminder of her isolation.

The silence she had craved now felt suffocating, a desperate loneliness that echoed the terror of being trapped with him in that room. No one to weep to, no one to beg for help.

"I told you we're meant to be together." (Y/N)'s pupils dilated in terror as her legs buckled, sending her crashing to the floor. Her eyes locked onto the mirror, where a dark, bottomless figure emerged, its hand reaching out like a specter.

Her mouth hung agape, frozen in horror, as she stared into the face of death itself – a monstrous, inhuman form that twisted the reflection of her former lover.

Despite her desperate attempts to move, her body remained paralyzed, rooted to the spot like a trapped animal. The darkness seemed to seep from the mirror, step into her bedroom. That's when she sprinted for her life, adrenaline fueling her desperate escape. Once again.

In an instant, the dark figure grasped her body, spinning her around with inhuman strength. (Y/N) crashed into the wood, the impact reverberating through her bones.

A rage-filled slam pinned her against the surface, the air knocked from her lungs. The figure's grip tightened around her neck, a merciless chokehold.

(Y/N)'s vision blurred, her thoughts racing as she struggled to break free. The figure's grip only tightened, its intention clear: to unalive her. Tears dripping and her entire visage red. Lips wide open to earn any or at all air possible as she continue to tug her nails on it's hand finding indeed soft flesh almost like his palms. She cried more at that. Swimming to the past of how twice she is in the same place, suffering for other's anger.

"I fucking hate you!" she screamed with her last shred of strength, defiance burning in her eyes. The figure's response was a grotesque, inhuman screech, its lip tearing apart like ripped fabric. The sound sent shivers down her spine.

"I fucking hate you !" (Y/N) scream loudly not giving the satisfy that if a afterlife exist they will be reunited. Fuling his anger as he screamed, using his force more and tears swell in his own eyes like he was hurting to do this.

(Y/N)'s vision blurred as Rylanox's grip tightened, lifting her off the ground. Feets deattached from the ground as she wailed, kicking frantically, desperation clawing at her chest. With a final burst of strength, she inhaled deeply and launched both legs into his chest.

Rylanox stumbled backward, landing hard on his back, his head thudding against the phone's edge. A groan escaped his lips. (Y/N) crashed to the floor, coughing, gasping for air. Her eyes locked onto a nearby lamp, and with a surge of adrenaline, she seized it.

With a primal urge, she brought the lamp down upon Rylanox's head – again and again and again. Blood splattered across her sky-blue dress, mirroring the hue of his eyes and tainting her (S/C) skin of hands, face. The blows continued, fueled by rage and terror, until his face was unrecognizable, a battered, pulpy mass.

Click— the door opened revealing the terrors painting her friend's and father's face who came to pick her when she didn't pick his calls.

(Y/N)'s feet dangled in mid-air, suspended by the figure's unyielding grip. Her eyes snapped shut, and she kicked wildly, blindly flailing. Her hands swung at the faceless void, desperate to connect. In a flash of hope, she turned to the wooden wardrobe beside her. With a surge of adrenaline, she pushed against it, shaking the sturdy frame, it rattled, teetered, and finally touch the frame of the mirror beside it to collapsed, shattering on the ground.

The figure vanished into thin air, releasing its hold. (Y/N) crashed to the floor with a thud, gasping for breath. Her stomach churned, and she vomited the remains of her last meal, retching violently.

As she stumbled backward, away from the wreckage, she gazed at the shattered mirror. The cracked glass reflected her own fractured reality, a testament to the horror she'd endured.

Cops were called, red and blue highlight her features as the police drag her, handcuffed. Her father furiously speaking to the head cop as she in daze clench his phone on her pocket watching her friends standing with palms pressed on their lips, unable to believe what she was capable of. To be honest so is she.

At the station she utter nothing of the motive, nothing of tale to tell only words echo "Self-defense". The female officer stare at her disheveled self, doubts creeping on her eyes of the possible explanation and her father'a hush money to the higher ups were enough to bail her however when she still painted in her lover's blood was slapped across her face by his mother's sorrowful hand.

"How dare you wretched girl took my son away so terribly ! I thought you were a good girl". Indeed, she was sorry for doing so, his mother was nothing apart shown kindness when introduced to her, always noting her allergies, sliding with her on fights that she almost forget that she wasn't her mother, rather his mother.

So all she did was choose silence, remaining on her father's grip on her shoulder and watching the woman break down to the ground with her husband holding her together, his eyes red and clouded with hatred she often seen held for the murderer of Innocents. But he was no far from one.

Not even when his funeral was held and his father's weeping speech portrait him as one. She watched from the slidelines inside her father's car as her mother hugged her saying "I believe you did that to protect yourself". Without a doubt her mother did when she wasn't known to his abusive side nor her friends who still stood by her side despite being in dark. (Y/N) was so grateful and felt foolish for feeling that way, afraid of if she said to anyone of his behavior they would curl in disgust, stare at her like she was a clown.

Or worse, tell her a liar because as much as she was fooled by him, they were too. All deeply adored him, cared for him and loved him that's why the stares of the university hall felt so heavy, so scary to she endure until she was shallow from the inside holding the degree she needs to run away.

And like a coward she did to another small town she was unknown, leaving behind her loved ones to protect herself.

From the growing guilt of hiding, regret of never revealing, disgust of her nativity and scared of their faiths on her. She really really didn't want to be alone at least left alone in this house with a haunted mirror bringing all the bittersweet memories.

Sometimes a bottle can't keep overflowing water so when one tries to close the cap from dripping down. It has no choice aside from busting like a bomb unless....

"I let the cap lose and spill the water all". Some secrets aren't just meant to keep and she should have known that as she keep her phone and finally called her parents, friends and all the people who have faith of her innocence til the end. She needs to say the cloaked truth. The dirty, nasty truth of how she survived and that was the busting point.

━━━━━━

"And that's why I just smash it again and again and again". She stare at her loved ones, silent tears flowing. "Until he become the mess I always saw". Mother's grasp her mouth, tears of regret roll down.

Little droplet of water fell from father too who is looking at his little daughter and finally saw how big she has become to endure such horrific experience. "My child. This is not your fault". He hugged her tight and she after a long time cried laying herself bare just like the days of childhood when she cries without hiding the reason.

Her friends hold her hands. "You should have told us ! I knew you always had a reason". Rosie, the one who opened the door that night to be witness. "I knew from the sheer despair of your face that someone appalled you to ! But I didn't knew..." She halted, kissing her back of palm.

"It's alright. We are here. Nothing is your fault and will never. He deserved it if I dare say". Jasper said, wiping his tears.

"I know right. I should have at least punched him". Edie, expressed swallowing and leaning on the sofa, drinking the information.

"My child, I am sorry. I failed to protect you". Mother kiss her forehead. "Always remember I love you and always choose you before anyone". She said the oath (Y/N) knew was truth.

Finally the overflowing water from the bottle spill without busting. And to be honest it felt good. Light even.

"This mirror..." (Y/N)'s weary eyes locked onto Rosie's voice laced with a mix of curiosity and dread. "Didn't it belong to... the bastard ?"

The words hung in the air like a revelation, and suddenly, the puzzle pieces fell into place. (Y/N)'s expression transformed from confusion to shock.

She wasn't haunted nor possessed by him. It was the memories that she remember but tries to repressed hard leaving her everything behind to start fresh and when she layed eyes on the mirror. It all begin again surfacing— the feelings, the memories, everything even the emotion of familiar to the beautiful mirror. After all, it was the mirror of Rylanox she always saw, the first thing in his bedroom.

After ending Rylanox's life, (Y/N) mistakenly believed it would bring closure, an end to her suffering. But in reality, it marked the beginning of a new, arduous journey.

The scars he left ran deeper than she imagined. Nightmares lingered, and everyday encounters triggered memories of him: light tugs in the bathroom, shadow figure of the bathroom and the phone rings, door banging, music playing. Each incident convinced her that Rylanox's ghost haunted her. But the truth was more complex even the final, suffocating grasp was not his, but her own recollection. The mirror, once a symbol of elegance, she forgetten had become a portal to her darkest recollections.

Breaking it shattered the cycle she didn't want to face, but true healing required more. Killing Rylanox eliminated the problem, not healing. (Y/N) needed to confront the scars, acknowledge the hurt, and face her emotions head-on. Healing demanded honesty and vulnerability, not just eradication of the source. It was time for (Y/N) to take the first step forward, to confront the shadows and begin her true journey toward recovery.

Ha, even after dying he left her in misery. What a joke because indeed after calling the owner of the antique shop for the name of the grieving lady is Rylanox's mother who couldn't bear to stand his things nor throw heartlessly.

Soon (Y/N) moved out of the house from the uneasy feeling to her parents' house where they took care of her, even her friends come to vist whenever they can if not daily. After few weeks she took the advise of Jasper to see a therapist for the better.

Never once did she met the Slade family thankfully because she doesn't know what to utter. To be honest she still get nightmares but they are much easier and processing in a way she feels light.

She will heal. If not in one year or so, one day she will and that will be the sweetest revenge to him from her. Getting better and live her life without him like he feared and she wants.

FIN

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐨𝐟 ◜⌜ 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ⌟◞

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Etsy Update - Comfort Character Boxes Restocked, In Time for Valentine's Day Orders!

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💚 Hello all! We're a few days late with it (about four or so), but we've got our Comfort Character Care Packages restocked just in time for Valentine's Day! If you order within the next week, we will do our best to guarantee it arrives in time for the holiday! So if you're into self-shipping, and looking for a feel-good gift from your favorite guy, consider getting yourself something nice from our shop! 💗

💚 For transparency's sake, we'd also like to let you all know that the prices have increased for the boxes. We've been doing this for about two years now, and have gotten pretty good at filling boxes with wonderful things to everyone's specifications. We raised prices with the intent to keep this service sustainable. We haven't been making much profit, if any, from our boxes, but we continued to do it because it makes people happy!! By raising our prices, we hope to start making some profit from the boxes, continue to offer this service, and keep them stocked for as many people as possible. We thank you in advance for the continued support! 💗

💚 For things to expect in the future, we've got a lot quite a lot in the works for you! Just to name a few; more sticker pack listings, custom scalemail earrings, maybe some acrylic products like standees and keychains, prints, mystery bags, and a whole lot more custom comfort character items! So stay tuned, and we hope to work with you really soon! 💗