#then i nearly lost my shit because it’s been a bad day and i’ve been looking forward to having burgers and corn on the cob

[voulezloux]

v

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie’s having a strange day.

For once in his life, he’s not being treated like absolute shit by all the dumbass jocks of Hawkins High School.

In fact, they’re not even engaging with him at all. They’re looking at him, but they’re just not saying anything. Even when Eddie pretends to drop his stuff in front of Billy Hargrove, he doesn’t even laugh at him.

And while this should feel like the best day of Eddie’s life, he has an underlying feeling that this is all very very wrong.

Then, he knows the universe has decided to fuck with him or something when Tommy Hagan meets him at his “business transaction” table and instead of buying anything, he leans in and whispers, “Meet me at skull rock after school today.” And fucking plants a quick kiss to his cheek.

And hey. What the hell was that?

Yes, he’s seen the way Tommy looks at Steve Harrington to know there’s no way that there’s not a part of him that wants him in a way that is definitely not platonic.

But Eddie isn’t Steve Harrington (who makes every guy feel a little bit gay) he’s Eddie Munson. And this does not happen to him.

But, he reasons with himself that, hey, maybe he’s in a coma or something and this is his only chance to see what life would be like if he was… liked? That doesn’t seem to be the right word, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it.

Or maybe the universe decided he needs a break from his horrible second senior year.

Doubtful.

Nonetheless, he decides what the hell, why not go to skull rock and see what Tommy Hagan wants, despite everything in his being screaming THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!

And a few feet into the forest, he hears the quick crunching of leaves and sticks as something approaches him and is nearly startled out of his skin by Steve Harrington of all people.

“You need to leave,” Steve pants out.

Eddie glances around and wonders if this is real.

“Eddie, I’m serious. You need to leave. Right now.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “Why?”

Steve sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Oh my god you remind me of Henderson. Okay. The basketball team is planning to ambush you because Billy thought it was a good idea or something. I don’t know. I overheard it in the locker room. And you have to leave.”

Eddie takes a moment to let it all sink in. And yeah, it adds up with the rest of the day, but also… “Why should I trust you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re Steve Harrington. You’re on the basketball team. What if you’re part of the trap?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not really friends with any of them.” His head whips around when a cracking noise sounds out a good distance away. “Let’s go,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s hand and tugging him away.

Eddie plants his feet and stays in place. “You’re going to have to prove to me in some way that you’re not in on this.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and pinches his lips together. “I don’t know how!”

“Then tell me why you’re going against all of them to help me.”

Steve’s brows furrow for a moment before he puts his hands on his hip. “Because I’ve been on the receiving end of a Billy attack and that was before he lost the little control he had over his sort of sister that like kept him weirdly grounded or something. But ever since, he’s been itching for a fight, okay? And he doesn’t hold back. He could kill you.”

Half of it doesn’t make sense to Eddie, but something about Steve’s tone makes him believe that he’s telling the truth. But there’s still a small part of him that wants to doubt him.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Steve asks, exasperated.

“If you’re in on it, you won’t be able to. Tommy barely even got my cheek-”

“He did what?”

“And,” Eddie continues, ignoring Steve, “if you’re not in on it, you’ll know that this means literally nothing to the both of us, and I’ll run back to my van immediately.”

Steve stares at him for a second as if he’s out of his mind - which he is, really - before stepping closer and asking, “You’ll really leave? Straight away? No poking around the woods because you’re curious?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. He smiles at Steve’s hesitation and says, “So, you are in on i-”

Only for Steve to quickly close the distance between them, weaving his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him close as he kisses him deeply, lingering for a few moments before pulling away, breath coming out heavier than before.

They both stare at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word until another crunching sound appears closer than before and a voice calls out, “Eddie?”

Steve takes Eddie hand and runs, only for Eddie to pull him the other way toward his van, still slightly not trusting him although he’s pretty sure Steve’s tongue may have grazed the inside of his mouth. But that’s a thought for a later day.

As soon as the van is in sight, Eddie lets out a deep breath, happy to see it’s untouched before he runs and unlocks it, yelling for Steve to get in before starting it and taking off.

Once he’s on the road, he turns to Steve and asks, “You think we lost them?”

Steve nods and sighs, “I hope they don’t find my car though.”

“Where is it?” Eddie asks, quick to turn around when Steve directs him.

He’s not far from where Eddie was parked before, but with the risk of being discovered, Eddie is quick to stop his car and tell Steve, “Go!”

But Steve takes a moment and looks back at him, and Eddie’s suddenly scared that maybe he read this all wrong and Steve really is in on the trap. But then Steve asks, “And what if I asked you to convince me to go?”

It takes Eddie a second to register what the hell he’s talking about before he’s glancing back at the trees, searching for any movement before leaning over and breathing out, “I have got to be in a coma or something.”

There’s a brief sharp pain in his arm that has him yelping before he registers that Steve pinched him. “Maybe not,” Steve says, leaning closer to close the distance between them again, deepening the kiss in the short amount of time they have and quickly pulling away, leaving Eddie desperate for more.

“I’ll see you around. Thanks for listen to me,” Steve says before hopping out of the van and running to his car.

Eddie takes a moment to breathe before realizing he needs to get the hell out of there, and he quickly speeds off wondering if this is real life.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next day, things go back to the way they used to be, but any time Tommy sees him, he turns an ugly shade of red which is accompanied by laughs of, “Eddie Munson stood you up.”

It’s nice at first, but two periods in, he’s already had enough of the dumb jabs people take at him until someone knocks a notebook out of his hands and it goes flying toward a nice blue pair of Adidas.

Eddie bends down at the same time as the other person does, and they both grab the book. When Eddie glances up, he makes eye contact with none other than Steve who gives him a small, private smile.

“Harrington,” Tommy says in an accusatory tone that has Steve frowning before standing back up, leaving the notebook in Eddie’s hand.

As he walks away, he turns back and gives him an apologetic smile that makes Eddie wonder if this is what Romeo and Juliet felt like.

The thought makes his nose wrinkle up before he stands up and goes about his day as if he doesn’t know what it’s like to be kissed by Steve Harrington. And a big part of him hopes that maybe he’ll get another weird day where Steve Harrington plays hero for him. And another part of him hopes that if he really is in a coma, he’ll wake up with Steve waiting for him on the other side.

[ditzyredrobin]

Tim Drake (The Spleen-Less Wonder)

My second Bad Things Happen square in as many days because I can’t control myself. 😅

Prompt: Bundled Up in Blankets

-

“Jason, put me down, now!” Tim snaps, trying to wrestle his way out of the blanket burrito he is currently rolled into. He’s currently slung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and pissed.

Well, beyond pissed.

Pissed doesn’t even begin to encapsulate the raging fury he’s currently feeling, being carried around like an oversized toddler. He kicks hard at Jason’s chest with his slippered feet, trying to gain some leverage to escape.

Jason isn’t even phased at his wriggling and kicking, he just keeps walking up the driveway. “What did I tell you, kid? Fuck around and find out.”

“It’s not that big a deal, seriously. It’s just a cold.”

It was. He hadn’t even broken 101 degrees yet which was barely even a fever and a total win in his book. If he was careful and took his antibiotics (which he had been, there was a timer set in his phone and everything) it would go away in no time.

“Like I said, you fucked around and now you’re going to find out. You could have stayed home but nooo. Tim Drake, the spleen-less fucking wonder, decided tonight was as good a night as any to hit the streets, never mind the sleet and windchill.” Jason mocks deadpan, renewing his grip. “Suck it up, buttercup. You did this to yourself. Deal with it.”

Tim rolls his eyes, “It’s Wayne.”

Jason pushes right through the front door to the manor without knocking. “What is?”

“My name. It’s not Drake, it’s Wayne.”

When he had been adopted, he’d officially become a Wayne. When he had taken over as CEO of Wayne enterprises after Batman had been lost in time, it only renewed that belief. He was a Wayne through and through and if the tabloids caught wind of his being carted around by strange men, he was going to have to send his publicist an apology bouquet again. And maybe a bottle of wine.

As much as Damian may have been opposed to it, he was a Wayne.

“Always a dramatic little shit,” Jason muttered under his breath. “Look, I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Drake or a Wayne or something else entirely. What I do give a fuck about is someone ruining the lead I’ve been working for over a month because he decided not to stay in bed like he was supposed to.”

“And I’m the one being dramatic?”

“Yeah, you are. You know, I’m really glad you’re finally taking the time to self reflect. You should try journaling or some shit when you’re feeling big feelings instead of passing out and nearly braining yourself.”

Really, it hadn’t been that bad. He just needed a minute to sit and then he would have been fine. If Jason hadn’t overreacted, he would not have almost lost his lead.

“I did not. I’m fine. Now can you put me down?”

“You passed right the fuck out, Replacement. That sounds pretty bad to me.” Jason says but doesn’t budge.

“Did not.”

“Did to.”

Tim groans, giving one last weak kick. This was getting him nowhere fast other than wanting his bed. The DayQuil and Red Bull were starting to wear off and the drowsiness was setting in again to bone deep exhaustion. The kind that makes him want to curl up for the next 24 hours and just sleep.

Not an option, unfortunately. He had a board meeting in just over six hours. If he manages to go to bed right now, he should still have time to get in a couple of hours of sleep before he needs to get ready.

“Bruce! Get out here and take care of your belongings.” Jason calls into the otherwise silent manor. It was just after six am meaning Bruce wouldn’t have been in bed for very long.

Tim grimaced at the way Jason’s voice echoed through the halls. If Jason’s complete disregard for the alarm didn’t wake him up, his shouting definitely did. “You really don’t have to do this.” He beds quietly, like that would help matters at all.

One could hope.

“Like hell I don’t.” Jason’s snaps back and opens his mouth like he’s going to yell again when Bruce comes running around the corner.

His eyes are panicked and he’s dressed in a robe, the tie is caddywhampus, and honest to god fuzzy bunny slippers. “Jay, what's wrong?” It takes him a long moment to process what he’s holding. “Is that-?”

“Yours.” Jason finishes, meeting Bruce half way. Without warning, he dumps Tim unceremoniously off his shoulders, earning him an indignant squawk.

If it had been anyone other than Bruce, Tim would have worried, bundled up so tight, he couldn’t stop himself before he hit the ground. But this was Bruce after all.

He caught Tim swiftly before he hit the ground, cradling to his chest. “Tim? What’s going on?”

Jason rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “Next time, take care of your little birds, or I’m not giving them back. We don’t have any more mishaps do we?”

Bruce grimaces, tightening his grip on Tim, pulling him in just a little closer. “What happened? I thought he was supposed to be in bed last night.”

“He’s here too, you know.” Tim uttered but neither Bruce or Jason didn’t acknowledge him.

“Apparently someone failed to tell him that because one minute he was being an annoying little shit and the next he tried to pass the fuck out in the middle of an op. One I’ve been working for months, mind you.” Jason says. “All I know is if he fucks up like that again, it’ll be on your head. Capeesh?”

Bruce nods solemnly, looking pained. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.” Jason says, trying to sound annoyed but there was a fondness in his voice. “Seriously, don’t mention it. Just do better. The kid is an idiot with the self preservation skills of a wet paper bag.”

Bruce sighs, “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” And in a small voice adds, “You know you can stay too. You’re welcome home anytime, Jaylad. Alfred misses you, I miss you.”

“You know this isn’t my home, Bruce. I only came back for the kid.” Jason turns back to the door.

“Maybe so but Alfred is making pot roast on Sunday.”

Jason freezes for a moment. “I’ll…think about it.”

Bruce smiles softly, “I look forward to it. Goodnight, son.”

Jason waves him off and leaves, closing the front door behind him, muttering under his breath. Something about Tim and Bruce not being his dad and roast beef sandwiches.

With Jason gone, the entirety of Bruce’s attention is turned to Tim, examining him with big, blue eyes and a kicked-puppy look. “Did you really almost faint? Be honest with me.”

Tim looks away, feeling his cheeks flush. “Maybe? It really wasn’t that bad. I’m just tired.”

Bruce sighs again (because his sons will be the death of him) and starts towards the cave. “You could have gotten seriously injured if Jason wasn’t there.”

“I know.”

He did. There was just so much to do, he didn’t have time to sit down and rest like a civilian. Crime was an ever present entity—if he didn’t help, people were injured and bodies of the innocent filled the morgues. The bodies of good people with lives and hopes and families and dreams.

What use was he if he couldn’t help?

“Do you, Tim? What would’ve happened if you were by yourself? What if your cold gets worse or turns into pneumonia again?”

“I know,” he says again in a small voice.

He really, truly did, but crime stopped for no one.

Bruce’s sighs exasperated, “You’re benched and staying here until you’re better where Alfred and I can monitor you.”

No, no, no, no, no! He can’t—he won’t.

“You can’t, please, I can’t.” Tim begs.

“You can and you will. I will also be handling the board meeting that mysteriously disappeared from my calendar.” Bruce says, giving him a knowing look.

Tim grimaces, “You noticed?”

“I noticed.” Bruce confirms.

He’s Batman. Of course he noticed.

“And there’s no way I can convince you to change your mind?”

Bruce shakes his head, carrying him not back up the stairs to his room, but the clock and the cave. “Not a chance, bud.”

There was no escaping now, not when Bruce’s mind was made up. If they were heading to the cave, where Alfred must have already been waiting, no doubt with an endless supply of warm blankets and IV fluids. He was sure there would be chicken soup later when it was closer to any normal person's time of day.

Tim leans his head back against Bruce—his father’s—shoulder, letting his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.” It’s a small thing but Bruce hears him and hugs him a little closer.

“I know you are. Let’s get you to bed and later we’ll have a long conversation about self care and boundaries, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, already half asleep. He didn’t want to but it was unavoidable. Now he would focus on the gentle sway as he walked, the thrum of his heart in his chest. “Hey dad?”

“Hm? What's up, champ?”

“I love you.”

Bruce chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of his hair. “I love you, too.”

[livwritesstuff]

‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday. 

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness. 

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

[jazzy-art-time]

Thanks

CW: cooties

It’s that Turkey thanks day here where I’m at. So I figured I would be that cringe fucker who gets overly insightful on today for a change.

But I figured I would sit down and tap for a second for anyone who would glance over at me today.

This past year has been, a lot for me. Good n bad and stuff but.

I wanted to say thank you to my friends. My dear friends.

I don’t think I would be the man I am right now without you and your support.

Like literally, prolly wouldn’t have been Raymond without you. You helped me test out everything and become comfortable with becoming Raymond. I can never be thankful enough for that, I’m closer to who I am and want to be even. I cannot express my thanks enough for that.

You guys support my artwork and my characters so much. You guys let me yap for so long and you let me send so many paragraphs for hours about my shitty ass stories and OCs. You’ve listened to so much Jolene Bennet and Pinky BrainRot you deserve awards. It seems silly but it means a lot to me that you guys are willing to listen to me insanity. I’m not that interesting of a person, so my characters are all I’ve got going on, it just means a lot that you are willing to listen.

You have also had to bear witness to the Birth of Jarble as well as its continued development. Which is very special to me due to why I made Jarble to begin with. It means the world that I can feel comfortable sharing it, developing it, getting tips and bouncing ideas back and forth. Jarble went from a shitty AU I made to escape from everything into something I hold dear to me. It’s special now, it might have died out and fizzled. So thank you for helping me create something special. Also the fact that I’m willing to share my writings with you guys show how much I trust y’all, my writing sucks and you are the few who get to witness it. I will say however, fuck you for the sheer amount of Jeden emojis, he haunts me and you do this to me I’ll get you /silly

As well as you guys aren’t afraid to call me out on my shit. If I’m doing something wrong, if I’m being out of line or overreacting… you call me out. You come to me and talk and help me get better as a person.

You were in the trenches with me when I became a Aggressive, Distrustful person who snapped and was going crazy because I was being stalked. Helped me gain the courage to speak out when I got doxxed by Travis. Stuck with me when I had to change antipsychotic medications and I went absolutely batshit and had to go to the hospital. When I was stuck in bed for nearly two weeks because I was practically almost dying. You guys… for whatever reason. Stuck with me.

You didn’t have to stick around, I never would’ve judged you if you did. But you stuck around, you came to me and laid it all out on the table. You told me when I was being unreasonable or that I was hurting you with my actions. You helped me when you didn’t… really have to.

And you continue to help me, I’m a better person now and I know that. I don’t think I would’ve gotten as better as I am without you.

You support me, you help me when I’m lost or confused, you talk to me… you share Garfield things with me or if I’m upset you send a picture of your dogs or just.. you do so much for me.

I am forever thankful for everything. I’m not good at expressing emotions, I never have been. So perhaps it’s all just nonsense what I’m saying or maybe I’m repeating myself, I don’t know.

But thank you.

For everything.

I love you guys and I wish I could be better at explaining it… that way I’m not dropping a mile long scientific paragraph on you every few months

And a thank you for my Followers as well.

Which sounds like, cocky or something to say. I don’t know, feels weird standing here going “AND TO MY FOLLOWERS” but it’s hm.

ANYWAYS.

Thank you lot for sticking around!

Within the past year and a half I’ve… been different! I cut off all social stuff for the longest time and then went radio silent a lot posting wise. Almost all my blogs kinda went nonexistent. I deleted a lot.

And then I randomly went “hey guys look at this story I’m working on called Jarble. I will tell you absolutely nothing about it.”

But y’all still? Stuck around.

Which I know I’m just like, another guy on the dash posting stuff. So perhaps it isn’t that deep as I’m making it sound? I don’t know.

BUT REGARDLESS. You guys stuck around!

You guys watched as I went insane over a AU that I never said anything about. Which might’ve been annoying when you guys asked and I just never answered because I got self conscious lmaO. Yet you guys still showed interest and shared support!

When I decided to update my blogs again, welcomed me back and showed support when I expressed interest in doing stuff again.

Even welcomed me back when I decided to attempt to be social again and join discord servers! Which was… hard for me and a 1000% awkward! Cuz I went insane and then shuffled back like a fool. Yet! Here I am!

You guys keep supporting me, sending me asks and supporting me and my work despite it all

And I thank you for that! I appreciate it and it makes me feel special when you guys appear to show genuine interest in my dumb characters and stories…

I know I’m just another idiot on the feed, but it means a lot to me that you stick around and glance in my direction.

So all in all

Thank you guys.

To everyone.

End of cooties

Edit: also thanks to my fiancé I guess. Whatever. You’re sitting right across from me and I might throw a cracker at you. But you alright I guess. 🙄🙄 don’t choke on the Turkey BabyGirl

[lo-shouldve-been-an-email]

Okay,since I’ve just randomly randomly just reblogging Thanatos things,I decided to actually post things,more specifically an LO rewrite because f it.

At its core I do think LO is a good story,just that bad writing has squandered any potential it has to be good,so please have my take on this.(more specifically my take on Persephone,hades,and Thanatos because I have to stay on brand)

Anyways-

(The sequel)

Persephone:

She’s older.shes physically in her late 20’s/early 30’s and about seven to eight centuries older.

Her AoW only extended to those ransacking the garden.(I swear,it would have been so much more understandable to root for her if it only extended to 4-5 people instead of an ENTIRE CITY,since we know other gods have done much worse)

Her work in the underworld was mandated by Zeus as community service for the AoW.

This is more or less Zeus hitting two birds with one stone,he gets perse to make community service and maybe(hopefully) gets hades to open up to the smucks outside of the underworld because he now has an employee not from there.

Due to her guilt about the AoW,she decides that while she’s working in the underworld she’ll set out to be the best her she can be and make up for the souls she took.

At first nobody really likes her and they just think she’s someone who needed to be dragged here by Zeus and won’t amount to anything,but she ends up being the hardest working of the staff and getting a fairly infamous “employee of the month” streak,her only real fumble being Sisyphus(of which she rightfully corrected totally not being getting Hermes to drag his ass down back to the underworld and give his his infamous punishment,of which instantly gave her back any respect she lost.

She’s the type of person you think you can disrespect until she gets genuinely mad at someone,in which case everyone goes out of their way to be nice to her even though it takes a lot to get her mad.

Demeter never sheltered her,just that she heard from her mother and brother(oh yeah Plutus is in this au their twins) about the shit that happened up their(even saw it for herself a few times)and decided to nope out of that drama.

She likes the underworld a more than Olympus due to the fact people don’t get butthurt nearly as much,due to them needing to deal with crap from other gods and sometimes mortals(like Sisyphus)

Demeter was an amazing mama and nobody can convince me otherwise.

Plutus told her about the underworld so she does know a bit,but otherwise it’s a cultural shock.

She brings homemade baklava in every day of work.

She actually sent a letter to Demeter telling her about the community service…however she never got it thanks to a certain daughter of Nyx always dead set on causing discord.

Hades:

It took him two solid seconds to realize what Zeus’ plan was with Persephone so he initially looked for any reason to fire her,until he learned she was here for community service and just decided to wait out her punishment(jokes on him Zeus forgot to tell perse what her sentence was so she worked in the underworld for like a year until demeter found her when in reality she was supposed to be there for like two months)

He does eventually soften up to her(obviously) but it takes a while and a lot of baklava.

Honest to god I have no idea how to incorporate minthe in this au

Leuce is his dead wife,she died fairly recently so he’s still hesitant to connect with anyone.(“I miss my wife,Thanatos,I miss her a lot I’ll be back-“)

Recently he’s been coping via sinking into his work,Hecate and the others have taken notice but they don’t really know what to do.(their the ones that CAUSE death not deal with it)

He slowly started distancing himself from the rest of his family after the titanomachy and even more so after leuce died.

The only person he acts openly soft around is Thanatos,who he views as a son.

The only part of his extended family he interacts with is Hermes,who he actually has a really good relationship with(albeit still strained since leuce)

Fuck it.everyone has flowers symbolism.

Hades is white lilies(subject to change),perse is asphodels,thanatos(and Hypnos) is poppies,leuce is forget-me-nots,Demeter is daylilies,Plutus is orchids,Hecate is nightshades or cow parsley.

Thanatos:

He genuinely finds it hard to focus on doing his job,so people just call him lazy,so he doesn’t really try to set the bar high in return because he knows he’ll just end up disappointing everyone.

The only person who doesn’t have low expectations and wants him to try his best at his own rate is hades,who understands he finds it hard to focus but still wants him to try his best anyways.

Rotates between living with hades and Nyx(who is an extremely doting mother.

Hypnos still resides within the hr department and Thanatos helps him hide because the last thing he needs is a grumpy Hypnos.

He deals with peaceful deaths while Hermes and the keres deal with the rest.

He’s the type of person to tell himself one moment he’s gonna be really productive today and then spend the next fifteen minutes chatting away with a butterfly.

Also he can talk to butterflies.but nobody believes him except Hermes,perse,and Nyx.

The moment he finds out what Eris did she gets the “WHY WOULD YOU THINK THIS IS A GOOD IDEA?!?!!?” Of her life.then queue Thanatos and the other Nyx children present trying to get her to explain why she thought this was a good idea and her just saying “bc it’s funny”

Erebus = dad with no physical body who still interact with me via shadows.hades = dad with physical body who I want to impress but I don’t know how.

(If you didn’t catch on he has adhd)

[koffeesfancy]

3. “I know you better” | Janelle Monáe x Reader

Summary: There's no way your boss is jealous of your coworker, right?

Rating: Mature

Genre: Romance, smut

Word Count: 2759

A/N: Back for Fictober Day 3! This time with spice. Feedback always appreciated <3

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world

You were fiddling with the coffee machine, determined to figure it out without spilling coffee everywhere, when—

“Boo!”

You jumped, nearly spilling your cup. “Victoria!” you shouted, spinning around. “Seriously?”

Victoria leaned against the counter, grinning, her bright brown eyes full of mischief. “What? You looking way too focused on that. I had to.”

“I’m trying not to break it,” you muttered, shaking your head. “That’s basically my goal today—don’t break anything.”

Victoria laughed, her balayaged hair bouncing as she flipped it back into place with her claw clip. “Good job then, sis. You ain’t explode anything yet, did you?”

“Not yet,” you sighed. “But there’s still time. Director Robinson’s probably waiting for me to mess up her schedule again.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You still stressing over that? It ain’t like she would fire you. She’d have to start doing her own work if she did.”

“She’s not that bad,” you said, a little defensively. “She’s just… different.”

Victoria’s grin widened. “Different, huh? Like the singing in the middle of meetings or showing up to work dressed like an extra on the Purple Rain set?”

You crossed your arms. “So what? She’s quirky. That doesn’t mean she’s not good at her job.”

“I mean, sure,” Victoria said, laughing softly, “but let’s keep it a buck, it’s hard to take her seriously when she’s humming Rick James in the elevator.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Okay, fine, she’s a little weird. But she’s under a lot of pressure. Plus, she’s actually really nice.”

“Oh, I know she’s nice,” Victoria said, “just… not in a ‘boss’ way. More like a freaky auntie.”

You snorted. “She’s definitely got her own style.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Victoria said with a wink. “But look, you only been here a few months, and you’re already on top of it. If you got past the singing and outfits, you should be alright.”

You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. “Thanks. I’m just trying not to get fired.”

“Girl, please,” Victoria said, waving you off. “You’re her right hand. She’d probably get lost in her own office without you.”

“Yeah, because marketing’s so much less chaotic, right?” you teased, finally starting to relax.

“Hey, at least we don’t get musical numbers in the middle of the day,” Victoria shot back, grinning. “But if you need a break from all that, I’m always up for lunch. We can talk shit about my punk ass supervisor.”

“Deal,” you said, smiling. “And thanks for the jump scare. You really know how to brighten someone’s day.”

“Anytime,” she said, raising her mug. “Here’s to surviving another day with our sanity mostly intact.”

“Barely,” you said, clinking your cup against hers.

You and Victoria were in the middle of laughing when Director Robinson appeared in the doorway, catching you both off guard. She leaned in with an easy, almost casual smile. Her short frame was draped in a burnt orange suit, adorned with funky accessories that somehow worked despite their oddity. Her chocolate skin seemed to glow against the bold color, and your gaze lingered on her long eyelashes and babydoll-like face, framed by doe eyes, soft cheeks, and a button nose. You felt a strange flutter in your chest, an unexplainable warmth as you took in her beauty, though you couldn’t quite understand why.

“Well, well, well,” she said smoothly, her voice cutting through the room like velvet. “Look at you two, thick as thieves. I’ve been searching high and low for you.”

You straightened up, your grip tightening on your coffee cup. “Oh, sorry, Director. I was just taking a break with Victoria.”

“Mmhmm.” Robinson’s eyes flicked to Victoria, then back to you, her smile widening. “And what exactly were you discussing? I hope I’m not interrupting anything… personal.”

Victoria shot you a playful look, clearly amused. “Just catching up. Nothing too juicy, Director.”

Robinson’s gaze lingered on Victoria a little too long before she turned back to you, her smile never faltering. “Catching up, are we? How delightful. Well, Victoria, I’m sure your little corner of the building misses you desperately. Don’t let me keep you from… whatever it is you do.” Her tone remained light, almost whimsical, but there was no mistaking the undertone of dismissal.

Victoria chuckled, giving you a wink. “See you around.” And with that, she slipped out, leaving you alone with the Director, whose focus shifted entirely to you.

She took a step closer, eyes narrowing slightly in a way that made you feel like she knew more than she should. “Now, Miss,” she began, her voice low and conspiratorial. “You and Victoria seem… cozy. How long have you two been ‘catching up,’ exactly?”

You felt the heat rise to your face. “Oh, we’re just friends,” you stammered. “We used to be interns together, that’s all.”

Robinson raised an eyebrow, her smile playful yet knowing. “Mmm, I’m sure. But here’s something to think about,” she said, leaning in with a wink. “Spend too much time with Victoria, and you might catch her vibe. She’s got that energy, always looking at you a little too closely, don’t you think? Could cramp your style… unless you like that kind of attention.” She flashed a sardonic grin, as if you were both in on a secret.

You blinked, completely thrown. “Wait, you think—No, it’s not like that at all. We’re really just friends.”

Robinson’s eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite place. “Of course, of course,” she said, her tone smooth as silk. “Just looking out for you. I’d hate to see anything… unnecessary develop.”

You swallowed hard, feeling like you were trapped in some bizarre game. “I appreciate the concern, but seriously, there’s nothing going on.”

“Good,” the Director said, straightening up, her tone slipping back into that easy, natural flow. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to focus on than office romances. Now, let’s get back to it. I have some exciting new ideas for the filing system that are going to blow your mind.”

You followed her out, still trying to process the whole conversation, wondering how a coffee break with Victoria had spiraled into this weird, almost flirty lecture. But then again, that was Director Robinson—always leaving you more confused than when you started.

You’d been sorting through a mountain of documents for three hours, the office now eerily quiet after everyone else had filtered out. You leaned back against the desk, squinting at the papers under the dim light of a desk lamp, the glow casting a warm hue that felt strangely intimate in the silence.

Just as you were about to dive back into your work, you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Before you could turn, the Director’s voice wafted over your shoulder, smooth and easy, sending a jolt of surprise through you. “You’ve really got a knack for this, you know.”

You jumped slightly, then turned your head to see her standing there, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a relaxed smile on her lips. “Oh, hey, Director,” you said, trying to play it cool but feeling your heart race.

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she glanced over the papers. “You’re doing a fantastic job,” she continued, her tone casual yet intimate. “Really. These documents are starting to look more like an organized masterpiece than the usual chaotic mess.”

You shifted slightly, acutely aware of her presence. “Thanks, I’m just trying to keep up.”

“Ah, but you’re more than just keeping up,” she said, gently rubbing your right shoulder as she continued to read over your left. The warmth of her touch was unexpected, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s all about that attention to detail. Tell me, how do you manage to stay so composed while everyone else is running around like headless chickens?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your focus on the documents, but her proximity was distracting. “I guess I just try to stay organized. It helps me avoid mistakes,” you replied, your voice coming out steadier than you felt.

“Mmm, good approach,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “But let’s be honest. There’s more to life than just work, don’t you think?” She paused, her gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “What do you do for fun outside these walls?”

You felt a flutter of nerves at the question. “I—uh, not much lately. Just focusing on settling in.”

Janelle tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Just settling in, huh? No hobbies? No wild nights out? Come now, you can’t tell me a bright star like you has no scandalous stories to share.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, the way she was looking at you making it difficult to find your voice. “Not really. I’m not that interesting.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” she said, leaning in even closer, her tone conspiratorial. “I bet there’s a little rebel in you, waiting to escape. A night out, perhaps? Or maybe someone special who’s been keeping your attention?”

You chuckled nervously, trying to brush off the question. “Honestly, it’s just work. I haven’t had time for anything else.”

The Director’s laughter was warm and inviting, but it felt charged, like the air before a storm. “Poor thing, you really need learn to carve out time for yourself. Life’s too short to be all work and no play. Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to a more intimate whisper, “you should call me Janelle. No need for formalities when it’s just the two of us.”

The way she said your name sent another rush of heat through you. You nodded, the words catching in your throat. “Okay, Janelle…”

“Much better,” she said, her voice silky as she straightened up, releasing your shoulder. “Now, tell me about your ideal weekend. What does that look like for you?”

You hesitated, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a blanket. “Um, I guess just hanging out with friends, maybe going out for dinner or something.”

Janelle leaned back, crossing her arms and regarding you with a mix of curiosity and mischief. “Dinner, you say? With friends or a special someone?”

You couldn’t help but fidget, the question landing heavier than expected. “Just friends. Really. I mean, it’s not like—”

Janelle interrupted, her eyes sparkling with interest. “Not like what? Come now, I promise I don’t bite… much.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly, as if genuinely interested in the answer.

You bit your lip, glancing away, feeling like you were trapped in a delicate dance. “Just friends. That’s all. Nothing romantic going on.”

Janelle studied you for a moment, and the room felt charged with unspoken tension. “Well, I’d say you’re due for a little romance, don’t you think?”

Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and trepidation swirling inside you as you met her gaze, feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something unknown.

You watched Janelle with a mixture of fascination and apprehension, her gaze intense as she leaned closer, her body practically brushing against yours. She placed her coffee down with deliberate care, the movement slow and almost theatrical, as if she were choreographing a moment.

“Really,” she said, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper, “I think what you need is someone who knows how to treat you right. Someone with a bit more... experience.”

Your heart raced as she stepped closer, effectively caging you between her body and the desk, the warmth of her presence enveloping you. The sudden proximity made it hard to breathe, and you could feel the tension in the air thicken like molasses. 

“What do you mean by ‘experience’?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to keep your composure.

Janelle tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Oh, you know. Someone who understands what a woman like you truly deserves. Someone who can take charge, show you what you’ve been missing. You may think you know what you want, but…” She leaned in even closer, her eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of her gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “I know you better.”

Your heart raced as her words wrapped around you like a spell, making it difficult to form a coherent thought. “I—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, her finger gently resting against your lips. “Just imagine it. Someone who can help you unwind after a long week. Someone who knows how to treat you, to bring out that wild side you’re hiding.”

You swallowed hard, caught between the thrill of her words and the uncertainty of the moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Janelle’s expression shifted, her gaze piercing into yours with an intensity that felt like a challenge. “Oh, but you do. Deep down, you crave something more, don’t you? Someone older, someone who knows how to navigate... complicated feelings.” She leaned in even closer, her breath warm against your skin. “Isn’t that right?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you met her gaze, the playful teasing morphing into something more serious, more alluring. It felt like she was unraveling something inside you, and you didn’t know whether to lean in or pull away.

“Janelle, I—” you started, but she cut you off again, her voice low and sultry.

“Just think about it,” she said, her body barely an inch away from yours. “You deserve to be treated like the treasure you are. Let me show you what I mean.”

The room felt charged, every word hanging in the air like a dare, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment was only the beginning of something that could change everything.

The tension in the room was electric, wrapping around you like a tightly wound coil ready to snap. Janelle's gaze locked onto yours, her presence overwhelming as she leaned closer, her body nearly pressed against yours. The air was thick with anticipation, and every second felt like a countdown to something inevitable.

“Just think about it,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry, sending shivers down your spine. “You deserve someone who knows how to bring out the real you. Someone who isn’t afraid to take what they want.”

Before you could process the weight of her words, Janelle surged forward, her lips crashing against yours with a fierce intensity that left you breathless. It was no gentle kiss; it was primal and demanding, igniting a fire deep within you. Her mouth moved against yours with a desperation that was intoxicating, a raw force that sent your heart racing.

You gasped, caught off guard, but instinct took over as you melted into her, your hands finding their way to her arms. Janelle deepened the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours with a boldness that made your head spin. The heat radiating from her body enveloped you, and you felt yourself being pulled into her orbit, losing track of everything else in the world.

Janelle’s hands gripped your waist, pushing you back against the desk, trapping you in place. The urgency of her touch sent shockwaves through you, igniting a wild craving you didn’t know you had. You could feel the tension building between you, an undeniable chemistry that simmered just below the surface.

As she pulled back slightly, her lips barely brushing against yours, you could see the hunger in her eyes—an insatiable need that mirrored your own. “I know you want this,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel it.”

You blinked, your mind racing, but before you could formulate a response, Janelle closed the gap again, kissing you harder, more forcefully this time. It was as if she was claiming you, each movement deliberate and commanding, as if she were saying without words that this was where you belonged.

You were lost in the moment, your heart pounding in your chest as your body instinctively responded to her. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the heat between you, the way she made you feel—alive, desired, and utterly consumed.

“God, you’re perfect,” Janelle murmured against your lips, her breath warm and intoxicating. “Just give in.”

Your heart raced as her kiss deepened again, her hands roaming your sides possessively. It was a whirlwind of passion, urgency, and a hint of danger that left you craving more, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something explosive.

[heliads]

Dear Elena

It is hard to keep track of anything when your entire life has been shattered into pieces. You're meant to be writing letters to your best friend, who happens to be in a coma at the moment, but you keep getting sidetracked by the one man who won't leave your thoughts.

masterlist

It is a beautiful morning, the sun is out, and all you can think about is the people you’ve lost. Last summer, you had more friends around than you do right now. Some of them are gone forever, some have moved on and moved out of town, and others are not within your grasp anymore. The endless loss blends together into one dense cacophony of regret, enough to keep you indoors even despite the lovely day outside.

Instead, you’re curled up on one corner of a sofa in the Salvatore house, passing off your suffering as an excuse to write to yet another one of the friends you’re missing. Elena Gilbert is not to blame for her absence in your life; she certainly wants nothing to do with her seemingly eternal coma, but your journal entries to her have started spiraling into irritation as the weeks go by without her waking up.

Case in point, your latest attempt at a happy message to your friend if/when she ever wakes up:

Dear Elena,

Shit has been fucked.

A voice sounds from over your shoulder, just as dry and sarcastic as ever.

“Y/N, you’re supposed to be uplifting with these things. Last time I checked, ‘uplifting’ didn’t involve nearly so many bad words.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but it’s a losing battle. “And last time I checked, these journals were for Elena, not you, Damon. Quit reading over my shoulder.”

Damon Salvatore, for of course it is he, spreads his hands in another display of his usual casual bravado. “Maybe you shouldn’t be writing them in my house if you don’t want me looking. Consider me curious, that’s all. I want to know if you’re adequately portraying my great deeds of heroism that I’ve been doing all the time since Elena closed her eyes.”

You take a moment to ponder that, then scrawl in one more line beneath the aforementioned expletives:

Also, your boyfriend is annoying me to death. Again.

Damon swats you on the shoulder. “Rude. Don’t you have anything nice to write other than complaints or depressed musings?”

You laugh bitterly, but the sound only turns more troubled as it trails off into silence. “Not really. Nothing’s going well at the moment. Every time I think I can count on someone, they leave or let me down.”

Damon blows out a low breath. “Tell me about it. I mean, it’s not like Mystic Falls is always a powerhouse of fun and playtime, but I think I even caught Caroline moping around when she thought I wasn’t looking.”

You hug your knees tighter to your chest. “It just all feels pointless. We fix a problem and two more take its place. You think you know someone and you’re wrong about them every time.”

Damon gives you a look, finally serious for once in his extended life. “This is about Enzo, isn’t it?”

You glance away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckles. “Of course you don’t.” A beat goes by, and he speaks again, almost an afterthought. “It’s not love, by the way.”

You frown up at him. “What?”

“Why Enzo is on Lily’s side. It’s not love, it’s duty. She turned him. That does stuff to your sense of obligation. He’s helping her because he thinks that’s what he should do. He doesn’t love her. Or, not like that, at least.”

You shake your head. “He doesn’t love her like what?”

When Damon remains infuriatingly silent, you press him again for information. “Wait, Damon, like what?”

He doesn’t answer you, though, just disappears, leaving you only with the fluttering of your notebook pages for company. You groan, muttering silent curses about over dramatic vampires never saying what they mean, then toss your notebook to the side. Damon’s right, you’re never going to get this entry done properly if you’re still in your head about everything to do with one certain Enzo St. John.

After all, how could you? Enzo is Enzo, for better or for worse, and nothing about him has made sense since the day you met. You were there when Enzo was trying to kill Damon, when he did time on the Other Side, even when he was helping the rest of you try to free Damon and Bonnie from the prison world. He’s been your enemy at times, your friend at others, but above all, he has lingered around your thoughts far more than you would care to mention.

Dear Elena,

Do you remember when you first told me you were falling for Damon? How I told you that you were crazy for loving someone who had tried to kill us at one point? I think I might have to join you in that camp. I’m not crushing on Damon, don’t worry about that, but someone else. Someone pretty similar to Damon, actually. Guess that’s why they’re such good friends.

You never counted on falling in love with Enzo. Love is difficult in Mystic Falls– there are always a thousand different things going wrong, enough to tear you from what you’re certain is a happily-ever-after just when you’ve finally allowed yourself to have hope. You had just decided that you were going to use your head and not fall in love at all if you could help it, and then he showed up and just like that, you knew you were done for.

It’s not like you could have done anything else. Enzo flirted with you constantly while he was trying to kill you. He made jokes when you were facing each other off. He sought you out first when he escaped the Other Side, said something about how the worst part of it by far was not being able to talk to you. 

He made you promises you knew he couldn’t keep, and then he joined Lily Salvatore and now it’s like he’s gone from you forever. Technically, he’s still out there, but he’s not yours anymore. If he ever was, that is. Suddenly, you’re not sure of anything the way you once were.

Dear Elena,

Why do boys have to be so insanely difficult?

Your moping clearly isn’t doing anything for you, so you give up and head outside. Most of your remaining friends have taken to camping out in the Salvatore estate at some point or other during the day. It makes it easier to find everyone when a new startling discovery descends upon you all, but it also makes you feel trapped, a bird in a cage who longs to spread her wings.

There is, however, a very good reason why you should stay inside longer, and that reason appears when you’ve hardly taken three steps into the center of town. You were headed for the Mystic Grill, but you do an abrupt 180 on the sidewalk and start heading back towards the residential areas when you spot a dark-haired figure that’s all too familiar to you. You don’t think he saw you, so you might be able to get away if you hurry.

Or maybe not. There’s a shout after you, it makes you flinch. “I missed you, you know.”

A gust of wind rustles the leaves on the branches nearby, and you don’t have to turn around to know that Enzo has just appeared behind you, taking advantage of his vampire speed to cross the street in less than a second.

“Yeah, well,” you say, still not trying to make eye contact with him, “maybe you shouldn’t have joined Lily and her Heretics, then. If you miss me, why aren’t we on the same side?”

“We weren’t on the same side at the start,” Enzo muses, keeping time with you even as you try to walk away, “that didn’t bother you then, now, did it?”

“That was different,” you argue.

“Was it?” He asks. “I was trying to kill you then. I’m not anymore.”

“And how do I know that?” You ask, finally standing still long enough to look him directly in the eyes. It’s been a while since you saw him face to face, you almost forgot how deeply he looks at you, like you’re the only person in this world worth seeing.

Enzo sighs, raises his hand to scuff through his hair but stops himself just in time. It’s been a while since he cut it short and started gelling it smooth, but sometimes you think he forgets that it isn’t the unruly almost-shoulder height it had once been. Enzo has spent enough time in various stages of captivity and death and rebirth that sometimes the lines start to blur. Even for seemingly insignificant things like hair. 

You like it better now, actually. You’re certain you’ve told him that at least once, and if you haven’t, he’s probably picked up on it from the way your eyes lingered on him when he first got the cut. 

“You know because you trust me,” Enzo starts, and holds up a hand when it looks like you’re going to cut him off. “And yes, you can say all you want about how you won’t trust me since I’m with the Heretics but maybe— maybe I don’t want that anymore.”

Your brow furrows. “Why not?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’m not sure, honestly. I thought it would feel better. She promised me that we’d be like a little family or something, but the lot of them have been together so long that I just feel like an intruder.”

“Then why haven’t you left yet?” You dare to ask. 

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” he answers you, “Lily’s control over her little monsters is slipping. At some point it’ll be easy for me to steal away and just never come back. I don’t want her sort of life anymore. I want something that feels right.”

“Like what?” You breathe. 

“Like you,” Enzo says without a second’s hesitation, “it’s always been you, Y/N, you know that. I liked you from the very start. I had hoped that spending more time with Lily wouldn’t hurt us, but I was wrong. I just want you. Not her, not her bizarre idea of a family. You.”

You exhale slowly. “I’ve been waiting to hear that for a very long time, you know that?”

Enzo cracks a grin at last. You missed that smile more than anything, more than it hurt to admit you needed him. “My apologies, love. I’ll try to be better at spilling my heart out in the future.”

He’s joking, though, and his smile only grows when you start to laugh. It is easy, being with him, and although you never really thought about why that was before, you’re glad to know that you’ll have plenty of time to ponder it now, especially with Enzo by your side. 

Dear Elena,

I think, for once, that things actually might turn out alright. 

tvd tag list: @thatfangirl42

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

plz ignore this if it's annoying or you don't want to answer questions like these abt your fan fic anymore, but what would have happened if Paz was alive during the "main" part of The Cabin in the Woods ? Like, let's say that instead og having died Paz simply ended up in a coma while losing her unborn kid. She stays in that coma long enough for Quaritch to lose total custody of Spider. How would she react to waking up ? How would Quaritch and Spider react to her waking up ?

Not annoying at all! I love getting questions about my fics! And I think this is such an interesting concept.

So if Paz lived but was in a coma and Quaritch still went after the drunk driver that hit her, went to prison and lost custody of Spider, first and foremost he’d be Paz’s caretaker when he got out of jail. He’d have a whole set up for taking care of her in their bedroom and teach himself everything he needed to know to best care for her. He knows there’s only a slim chance she’ll ever wake up but it’s a chance he’s willing to take.

When Quaritch puts his plan into action he takes Paz up to the cabin first. Z watches over her while Quaritch is off kidnapping Spider. The first thing Quaritch does when Spider wakes up is show him his mom. Spider had never gotten a chance to visit her before since Quaritch was her care taker and Spider had a restraining order against him. So it hits him really hard to see her. If it wasn’t for all the monitors it’d be like she’s just sleeping. But then his dad lifts the covers and shows him his mother’s mangled torso, thick red scares trailing up and down her stomach like rivers. Spider doesn’t even know how someone could survive something like that. And it infuriates him seeing the damage that was done, knowing that his mom might never wake up but still having a little hope that she might. It instantly gives him a shred of sympathy towards his dad because yeah the bastard that put his mom in a coma definitely deserved it.

Because Quaritch hopes that Paz will wake up one day, he doesn’t go about breaking down Spider in the same way he does in Cabin. Because he knows damn well that if Paz woke and saw that shit he’d be dead and buried so damn fast. So Spider gets locked in his room at night and is free to walk the house during the day though the front door is locked. Anything he could possibly use for escape is locked up and hidden. He picks fights with his dad all the time both verbal and physical. Quaritch doesn’t yell back during the verbal fights but he can come up with some extremely cutting clap backs that have nearly made Spider cry on multiple occasions. The physical fights definitely don’t go well for Spider either. Spider may be taller than his dad and packed with muscle but Quaritch is stronger and more skilled. Quaritch never hits Spider just puts him in a hold until he calms down.

The only time they’re civil with each other is when Spider is helping Quaritch take care of Paz. Spider does everything he’s told without a word. They’ll both sit with her. Talk to her. Quaritch will say how happy he is to be a family again. How she’ll be just as proud of their son as he is when she wakes up. Spider sits there, all his father’s compliments feeling like slaps to the face. He’s boiling mad and wants to hurl insults at his father but something about being in his mother’s presence makes him bite his tongue. It’s when Quaritch leaves him alone with Paz that he’ll talk to his mom. He’s cried over her a few times, wishing she was awake, admitting that he’s so scared, that he wants to go home. He even wonders aloud if his mother would approve of this. If she’d be just as bad as his father. After all they are husband and wife. Quaritch always eavesdrops on these conversations.

It’s such an amazing day when Paz wakes up. Father and son are tending to her needs, Spider is just kinda idly chatting with his mom, (“hi mama, how are you? Same as yesterday? I get that. I’ve been doing the same thing for weeks because of your shit psycho husband…” ) when Paz’s finger twitches. Father and son pause, both in disbelief over what they think they saw. Then Paz’s whole hand moves, her eyelids fluttering. Quaritch and Spider are holding their breath. And then she opens her eyes. Quaritch rushes to her side, taking her hand. He’s so deliriously happy that this day has finally come but also terrified that her mind might be gone after the accident. “Darlin’.” Paz is so confused. With her other hand she touches his face as if making sure he’s real. Quaritch closes his eyes relishing the touch he feared he might never feel again. “Honey? What happened.” Her voice is so hoarse from disuse but her words are clear. Both Spider and Quaritch sighed with relief. “There was…a car accident. You were hit by a drunk driver. You’ve been in a coma…for a real long time.” Paz is in complete shock. She looks around the room, her gaze falling on Spider. “Who’s that.” There’s a hint of fear in her voice because deep down she already knows but doesn’t want it to be true. Quaritch beckons Spider forward. The teen is too in shock to do anything but comply, letting his father take him by the arm and gently lead him closer. “I know this’ll be a shock. But it’s Miles jr. This is our son.”

Paz stares at him in total bewilderment. Her breath hitches as she reaches towards him with shaking hand. “No,” she gasps out her sobs starting in full force. “No. My baby. My baby…” Spider breaks down hearing her calling him that and practically falls right into her hands. She strokes his cheek and it fills him with more emotions than he can name, “I missed so much..” an anguished scream rips from Paz’s throat. She’s so utterly heartbroken to have missed seeing her son growing up. She also knows without having to be told that the son she was pregnant with is dead. Otherwise her husband would have called him in. She wept for both her children clutching her remaining son close as they both sob onto the other’s shoulder.

So big bittersweet family reunion. Once everything calms down Quaritch asks Spider to help him get some food going so they can have a celebratory feast. In the kitchen Quaritch throws on some music so that Paz can’t overhear the whispered conversation he has with his son, “do not tell your mama why we’re here, y’a got me? She’s been through enough today and she’s already weak enough as is.”

“What the hell do you plan on telling her!”

“The truth.”

Spider scoffs, “your truth. Not the truth.”

“Are y’a gonna do as your told or do we need to go downstairs and have a lengthier discussion.” Spider doesn’t want to find out what’s in the basement but more importantly he doesn’t want to stress his mother out and possibly put her back in her coma in her weak state. So he goes along with it for now. When his mom is stronger he’ll tell her the real truth.

So Paz has to go through a lot of physical therapy. Quaritch had Ja come up to do a physical on her and he pronounced that other then the severe muscle deterioration Paz was actually in good health. All her vitals sounded good and she wasn’t in any pain anywhere. Quaritch helps her slowly build her strength back, doting on his wife like crazy. Spider is always by her side, wanting to talk to her, get to know her, soaking up all the love his mama gives him. He sees how his father treats her, like she’s his queen, and he can’t help himself from smiling over it. His parents are just so happy together. And because Spider doesn’t want to upset his mom he plays the loyal son, talking openly with his dad, all smiles. He lets his dad ruffle his hair, pat him on the shoulder and even hug him. And as the days go by being a “happy family” Spider starts to forget it’s not real. The first time he got caught in the moment, losing himself to his feelings of safety, contentment, and love, he jolts back all emotions leaving him as he reminds himself, he’s your kidnapper and a murderer. Soon he starts losing himself multiple times a day. Then catching himself starts having less impact. And soon he’s taking walks in the woods, laughing with his parents as his dad pushed his mom in a wheelchair. Talking about his day with his parents at the dinner table as they enjoy a home cooked meal. Letting his dad help him with his homework. Sitting with his mom as she brushes and braids his hair for the day.

And then it’s time to tell Paz the “truth”. They’re all gathered around the table. Quaritch prepped Paz by telling her there was something really important for her to know. Something they’d kept from her until she was stronger. “After your accident I went after the man who hurt you. I nearly killed him. I went to jail for one year.” Paz wasn’t the least bit surprised by this. “The courts didn’t let Z or Lyle take custody of Miles,” “What!” Paz is pissed. “They took custody from me when I got out. When I knew the courts would never give him back to me, I took matters into my own hands. This cabin is built on top of a mountain. No one will ever find us here. I never stopped lookin’ out for Junior when he was in the system. We talked even though I wasn’t allowed near him,” Spider’s eyes widened. “Once I finally finished this place I brought you here, then I told Junior all about it. A place where we could be a family. He was more than happy to run away from his shitty foster family.” So this is his “truth” Spider had to admit it was a nice way of selling their isolation to his mother.

His mom turns to him, “is that true?”

Say no, part of him screams. But then what would happen. His mom was still too weak to walk. And his father had made it clear plenty of times that Spider was no match for him. If he revealed the truth and Quaritch got violent he wouldn’t be able to defend his mother. So he forces a smile and says, “yeah ma, it’s true.”

Paz smiles, “It’s almost like the whole world wanted to tear our family apart. Well fuck the world. We won! We’re together now. Nothing will ever tear us apart again.”

Father and son side eye each other. “Yeah ma,” Spider says, “nothing at all.”

Thank you so much for the question! This was a really fun concept for me so I hope you enjoyed it.💙

[biohazard-inevitable]

Thinking so much about CrocFoxx ALWAYS but specifically recently i’ve had the idea of being a bastard and giving buggy heart attacks in the cross guild.

Like, at first Buggy just think I’m some new rookie recruit who is always getting lost and so he obviously tries to impress me anytime we run into each other cause hes all “i’m a goddamn emperor everyone respects me!” And hes REALLY not used to “weaklings” brushing him off so casually and stuff so everytime he makes himself huge and tries to look scary and intimidating hes met with a glare and an annoyed flick of my ear before i simply walk past him.

And then, one day, hes just exited crocodile’s office and hes just thankful he SURVIVED because that man is HORRIFYING and croc had clearly been in a horribly bad mood and would probably kill the next person who even slightly annoyed him and then buggy sees me walk up to the office and stuff and I go “is crocodile in today?”

And buggy nods a bit and then goes, “ah- but you really shouldnt go in. Hes in a horrible mood.”

And of course I completely ignore buggy because i refuse to take the clown seriously and waltz right into crocodile’s office, tail wagging happily.

Buggy of course nearly screams and is CONVINCED hes about to watch some idiot die a horrible death right before his very eyes as i scrabble myself on top of crocodile’s enormous desk.

Buggy watches timidly from the doorway as i calmly smile and say some things to croc just out of earshot, and the clown is even MORE stunned when instead of murdering me, the big ol horror of a man pulls me into his lap instead and starts petting me gently before going back to his work, saying a few soft things under his breath and I give a shit eating bastard smirk at buggy in the doorway, practically mentally flipping him off as Buggy realizes hes got a whole *new* problem on his hands considering the way some of his staff may have treated me

[josiebelladonna]

you know, i’m starting to get a little depressed about alex being on bluesky.

the big social media sites are coming down fast and it’s only a matter of time before it all goes that way (if you don’t believe me, look at threads as of late: i looked at one post outside of my feed two days ago and that’s all my feed is now. i have to scroll way down to see my friends or anyone i follow anymore. and i’ve learned that that’s usually the kiss of death for sites because that tells me their algorithm is too sharp for its own good. pinterest went that way and as a result, i stopped using it about two years ago). the general collective is too polarized for its own good so you have sites like truth social and bluesky being wildly popular and the carved little spaces to be your weird self, i.e., the era before social media grew absolutely gargantuan, back when sites looked different from each other, is pretty much buried at this point. trust me, “it looks like a twitter” is not a good thing.

worst case scenario, i never see him again.

the other thing about it that depresses me is, like i said yesterday, he’s like me in that he errs on the liberal side but he’s not *that* liberal, though—that was one of the reasons why i was so drawn to him back in 2020, he was like the one person on twitter who wasn’t shrieking his lungs out and he felt like a breath of fresh air to me. and now he’s resorted to truth social for the left because Twitter is too far gone now. not his fault at all, that’s not at all what i’m saying. what i’m saying is we as a whole have completely lost the plot and have fractured the things that were meant for all of us. what i’m saying is we as a whole have made everything overly black and white when life just isn’t like that. this is bad.

and this has nothing to do with it but i still think whatsername is a bad influence on him. take your pick from putting him in situations where he can very easily be bit or cut and exposed to things like parasites and rabies, to recommending him “healthier” food and let me explain this: i think it’s just a lifestyle thing but his weight has really been all over the place in the last couple of months alone. (i’m putting my own pleasure principle on the back burner here with this, too). a huge part of my own weight loss has been eating a lot less: it’s why i was able to lose 100 pounds at this point and be a baker and surround myself with sugar and butter; i don’t eat nearly as much as i used to 100 pounds ago. it could just be a metabolic thing (he is in his mid-50s now, your metabolism does slow down as you enter your 50s), but trust me when i say this: if he’s trying to lose weight, i’m afraid he’s not going to get very far with it because he’s actually not eating very healthy. he may be eating something vegan and healthy in her hollow, dead eyes, but he enjoys his pastries, though. and when i say this, this is not me being kinky. it’s me thinking that he’s trying to escape from her and he’s feeling guilty about it.

today is international men’s day. back right the fuck off. men need as much love and respect as we get, and they don’t have nearly as much resources as we do in dark situations, and he’s a good example of that. if anything, he’s why i’m like this, being all boy crazy and writing this. i’m as temperamental as i’ve been lately because i love him and i care about his wellbeing and i fucking despise her. a big part of why i’ve gotten into jewish recipes is because of him (and also me being a “mensch”). i do it out of love. everything i do is out of love.

i miss the 2021-2022 era of alex, when he was sweet and friendly to all of us. now he’s got his head so far up her ass that he’s going to drown in her shit.

“the butcher” is a nickname well-earned. and now i burn.

[nerves-nebula]

if i may ask, what's your writing process like for when you create a story ?

Bad and weird. Mostly I just think about it a lot, scribble down a few basic essential plot skeleton things, and then go over them and fill them in. And I do that multiple times on occasion when I’ve got more ideas. I’ve also got like 6 docs for loose stitches. One is the actual script, one’s an outline/plot skeleton, one is backstory & world building notes, one is like character speaking quirks or something- idk I’ve lost count at this point I really only refer to like three of them

Also, unless it’s like a short comic or one shot story, I don’t finish the script. If I waited to finish loose stitches script before I started it I’d never have started at all. Already, a bunch of stuff that’s supposed to go down in part 2 & 3 have been altered since I started drawing loose stitches 2 years ago. Partially because I wasn’t sure where things would go and partially because I’ve gotten a better hold on the characters & their backstories & motives since then which changes their arcs a bit. I still don’t know how loose stitches is gonna end, but I’m getting a better idea if it every day and I just write down one potential ending.

I picked up something interesting from the author of the webcomic Sakana, which is that I need to leave space in the script for me to improvise stuff so im not horribly bored. For me, a lot of stuff is vague. I make up a lot of character designs nearly on the spot, and I allow myself to change shit around so long as the main beats are hit on. It’s all good.

Also, when it comes to comics, your script is supposed to be written however you want. Any font any format as long as it’s good for you. Mine is prose-like but very informal and with interjections to remind me of stuff (character is holding x or puts y thing down, character makes a certain face, a description of a visual I don’t want to forget)

As for the writing side of things outside of comic scripting, it’s basically the same. Write a skeleton and fill it in. Main difference is that the prose are way more formal. I really don’t consider myself a writer, even though most of my art includes dialog and storytelling. Guess I don’t think I’m good enough at writing yet? Idk. It’s probably because I consider my sister The Writer in our family. Anyway hope that’s what you wanted.

[theoddcatlady]

Nearly lost my temper at work yesterday

For a bit of background, I work at an insurance company. I’m not exactly changing the world, but it pays well and it’s usually pretty chill. Except for yesterday, which I just really need to rant about. It was a bunch of little things that stacked up to my… almost explosion.

The water cooler was dripping nonstop. Citrix servers had gone down and that was the main program I use for work. I had a pounding headache from the bright lights in the office and my skin was all dried out from the artificial air. And for fuck’s sake, Barbara would just not leave me alone.

I’m not a people person. I can answer the phone and be amicable enough, but I’ve never been like BFF’s with my coworkers at… any of my jobs. Most of my coworkers get I’m here to do my job and get paid. Barbara though, good god. She just doesn’t get the hint. And I can’t exactly mouth off to her because she’s been with the company for like two decades so if she complains I’m the one in trouble… not like she’s done work for the last five years, but I digress.

“So is this your boyfriend, Ellie?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek as Barbara plucked one of the pictures in my cubicle up, cooing and aww’ing. I hated being called Ellie. “He’s so cute!”

“Andrew is my brother, actually. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” One of the only other people I can tolerate in this world. I grabbed the picture and not so gently snatched it back, setting it down. The vein in my forehead probably popped out another good inch as I saw that Barbara had left a greasy thumbprint on the glass. I’d need to clean it when she was gone.

“Oh!” Barbara cocked her head to the side. “You don’t look alike!”

“I’m adopted.” Desperately I stared at my computer, willing Citrix to get its shit together so I could tell Barbara I was busy working. I was not going to be that lucky.

“You know, I have a son about your age.” Barbara started fiddling with the other things in my space, my notepad, the pens. “He just broke up with his girlfriend, and I was wondering, I bet the two of you would love to have coffee together…”

“I’m sorta preoccupied with other things at the moment than dating. And I hate coffee. I’m more of a tea person.” Jesus Christ, I was at the point where I was begging the clock to speed up. Even with the systems down, I still wasn’t allowed to leave until four. Just in case they came back on, even though they never had in the past. I wouldn’t mind getting paid to sit on my ass and do nothing if fucking Barbara would leave me alone.

“At your age?”

Oh, here we go. I rolled my eyes as Barbara tutted her tongue at me. “You need to get on that, honey, otherwise you’re going to be unmarried at thirty! After that it’s all downhill, not to mention how this could effect your future children- is something wrong with your arm?”

Shit. I hid my hand under my desk. “No!” I spared a glance and almost starting cussing. Of all times to start shedding, this was not a good time. “Bathroom emergency, move it!”

I shoved past Barbara, accidentally pushing her to the ground in my haste. I heard her snap after me but I didn’t care. I scooted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me.

I held my hand in front of me to see more skin start to flake off, revealing the putrid muscle and flesh underneath. Fuck me. Today had to be that bad, huh?

My brother used to call it my ‘zombie mode’ to make me grumpy, but it’s not really like that. I keep my sanity, but I just start rotting and falling apart at the seams. It’s been like this since I was a kid, though I do tend to rot quicker when I’m having a shitty day, so Barbara can get fucked.

There’s really only one way to speed up the process so my skin grows back normal and healthy, and it sucks.

I sent Andrew a text, telling him to come pick me up as soon as he could and to bring my large coat. He knew what I meant. With a sigh, I double checked the lock before I pulled my shirt off, bra following onto the floor. Where the underwire was pressing against me the skin was already starting to come off. I gritted my teeth, grabbed on, and yanked.

It doesn’t hurt, not when my skin’s already dead. Sometimes a bit of the live skin comes with it and oh that hurts like tearing a hangnail, but it’s hardly lethal.

Pus and blood spattered into the sink as I ripped more and more of my skin away, both lumps I once called breasts slapped on the ground with a wet sound. I could see tumorous, bulbous growths starting to form in the fat. With most of the skin on my torso gone, I moved onto my arm. I groaned with relief as I finally scratched away at the sore, ripping away more skin and flesh.

I had skinned my entire upper body and was finally starting to feel relief when I heard a timid knock at the door.

“Sweetie? Ellie? Are you okay?”

Barbara’s voice made my blood boil, but right now she was exactly what I needed. I cleared my throat before approaching the door. “Sorry, Barb, I… I threw up. Everywhere. On my clothes, on the sink. It looks like a horror film in here. I called my brother to come get me, but could you please bring me stuff to clean up? I am not leaving this for Willis to clean up tonight, he’ll probably quit.”

“Oh, of course, sweetie! Don’t worry about work, I’ll handle it.”

She even was nice enough to cover her eyes as she handed me the cleaning supplies through the crack in the door. I scrubbed that floor and counter spotless, filling a garbage bag with bloody paper towels and gore so that no one would assume I butchered someone in the bathroom.

My brother gave me my trench coat when he came to pick me up and acted like he was helping me out of the building as he escorted me, in reality he was making sure I wasn’t bleeding over everything.

Now I’m home, enjoying a few seasons of Friends as I heal up. Andrew is a coroner and if I didn’t have him, I probably would’ve lost my mind and eaten Barbara on a bad day years ago. Whenever I’m done ‘shedding’, he brings me home a few human body parts so I can eat. I usually add them to whatever junk I’m eating, but Barbara was nice enough to bring me some chicken noodle soup. Now it’s chicken noodle soup plus a kidney, but hey, what can you do.

Whoa, feels good to get my shitty yesterday off my chest. Thank god it’s Friday.

[kinocomix]

untitled project devlog 8: themes, and pain

At first, when I said I wanted to discuss the themes of my project, I thought that maybe there would be some convenient article, book or philosophy deep dive I could reference, which does not seem to be much the case, seeing as how my approach to themes is very personal. so… here’s some thoughts.

In case it’s not abundantly obvious by now, the story features a band and music quite prominently. One of my original elevator pitches for the comic was “think metalocalypse meets bandslam, but with the scope of Ernest et Celestine and the presentation of a black and white Wes Anderson film” which is the vaguest shit ever and I’ll eventually get my head out of my ass long enough to stop worrying about spoiling the story. My point is: the act of being creative is at the forefront of the story. What drives it forward is something I won’t mention in this series, but a lot of ideas emerge when you decide to write something as personal as making art. Things like purpose, belonging, self worth, expression, communication, validation are things that every artist or musician deals with quite regularly and no story about creativity would be complete without them.

The first post ever made to this blog was a webcomic name fancomic that, looking back, isn’t bad but remembering the reason why I made it is what makes me cringe. I wanted attention. When I started making art I expected to be famous in 100 days. literally, I wish I was exaggerating. 

In every artist’s journey with art, they reach the point where they realize that the only things really worth pursuing are the things they’re passionate about. Sometimes this is drawing commissions, other times people do commissions to keep themselves alive. A lot of times, the art people are passionate about barely gets any attention at all. It's a fact that a lot of creatives secretly know that people who get successful doing something they love are very lucky. 

It takes maturity to be happy for people and proud of their hard work as opposed to being an envious child but that doesn’t mean we don’t secretly want success as well. If I could have enough dedicated readers to make my comics for a living but never be famous I’d do that in a heartbeat. Every big shiny thing is destined to accumulate dust, I don’t want to be a big shiny thing, I want to be a reliable hill you can trust to be there year after year. It took me a while to get to the mindset I work with today. 6 years might not feel like a lot when you consider the insane careers some artists had, but as far as people go 6 years is a lot. I graduated, finished a book, worked on 2 short film productions that have both won awards (one of which for my sound design!!), moved house, freelanced, started a stable job, been to therapy, gotten an operation, nearly lost people, been through an explosion, an economic collapse; and I think that’s just the stuff I’m remembering off the top of my head. 

Finding documentation and sources about this kind of stuff is pretty difficult because this is not what gets publicized about media. However, if you pay enough attention some similarities start to appear.

The manga Berserk is pretty famous for its elaborate artwork and story. It doesn’t really need an intro and I’ve been told I need to read it which I plan on, but that’s not the point right now. As you may know, Kentaro Miura, the author and illustrator of the manga passed away in 2021. For fans of the series, while very tragic, this wasn’t all that surprising. The dude doesn’t fill in black. he crosshatches everything. An admirable feat, which makes you thankful that a friend of his, Kouji Mori, decided to finish making the manga after he passed away. 

Many other manga share this. Vagabond by Takehiko Inoue, has been known to frequently go on hiatus. So has Hunter x Hunter by Yoshihiro Togashi. A lot of times, an artist’s undying faith to their work is because of how passionate they are about it, the people involved in making it or even the audience. I forget the exact interview this is from, but Linkin park has gone on record for saying that sometimes they need to consider the audience. you see them always excited to talk about how experimental their music is, which is great, but when you know someone’s on the receiving end of what you’re making, it’s bound to make you think a bit differently. 

This video of George RR Martin and Stephen King chatting kind of outlines the different approaches they have to writing. One of the most iconic quotes is “how do you write so fast?” Spoken by Martin. Now I’m not here to talk about Game of Thrones, trust me I couldn't care less but it does bring up one point worth talking about which is inspiration, discipline and what that has to do about your malleability as an artist.

This is the trailer for H.E.R.A., one of the short movies I worked on as a sound designer and general handyman. It was written and animated by my friend Alaa Fleifel with the help of some wonderful fellow artists and animators for some of the scenes. Alaa and his studio Phat Chik are an example of what I’m talking about.

pictured: Alaa. 

When I talk about being malleable, I don’t mean that in the X-men mystique “I chameleon my way around the world” school of art though that can work in some cases, sure. What I refer to is one’s ability to keep making their art. During the production of H.E.R.A., there were at many points obstacles that would have shot down most movie productions. The sound designer had to prioritize staying alive so he had to unfortunately quit the project midway. Alaa had to juggle a fulltime job, commissions and a rapidly decaying economic system that meant most clients didn’t want to pay well anymore so he had to outsource some of the background art and scenes to friends and animators that he paid out of pocket. The production timeline lasted a year and 8 months, most of that time was spent patching up the team in the background. Working on H.E.R.A. taught me that there is no project in existence that is the result of one human being. Everyone has at least one person to give them advice, someone who goes “hey, I know a guy” and very often that is not just one person. When band line ups change, it’s sometimes treated with an air of disregard.

“oh, it’s just the drummer”

“it’s the rhythm guitarist, their job is pretty easy anyway”

Had Alaa waited around for inspiration or permission to make his film, it would have never happened. Sure, a lot of why we get to watch the absurdist sci-fi acid trip that is H.E.R.A. is due to some luck and connections, but a lot of it is also due to a rejection of the notion that inspiration is what primarily fuels creativity. 

So what does that say about the story? usually I find it helpful to present my themes in the form of questions, so here’s what i’ve been able to come up with:

Who does art/music belong to?

How much of the soul of art and music gets lost in translation? 

How do you balance making stuff for yourself and an audience once you have one?

How much does inspiration really matter?

I need to be honest with you about something. 

I’ve been kind of avoiding talking about the more… personal themes at play here.

it’s not because I don’t know what they are, really. They just come from a place of deep discomfort and humiliation for me. I’ve obviously become a much different human being over the course of my 27 years on the rapidly traveling rock in space but it’s never not weird for me remembering the dumb things I did or said growing up or while I was finding my footing as a writer. There are entire projects and dozens of pages of things that I threw out the window before I felt confident enough in something to be able to share it. there’s a lot of fucking up you do while growing up and not surprisingly, I feel more comfortable seeing my weird feelings in fiction than I do laid out in bullet points in a devlog. So I promise you this:

the people in the story are going to be human. Faults, warts and all. The only thing I ask of you is to know that while those warts are real, they are not mine anymore. Every day that passes, I grow a little bit more, and maybe at some point I’ll grow tall enough that the light trickling through the trees will feel safe enough to fly.

Merry Christmas, and may every year bring a little bit more sun.

Devlog updates on tuesdays. 

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Health Update 😷

So, for the past nearly-six weeks, I have been very sick. It started on the Tuesday after Easter when I went to work at camp, and I noticed my chest felt weird, and my throat was scratchy like I needed to clear it. I kept on coughing but nothing was happening so I just assumed it was a cold on its way. By a week later, however, I had a full blown dry cough and no other symptoms, which wasn’t ideal because it was the week of my play I was doing; I went to my GP/doctor, they prescribed me a brand new inhaler (I had lost my last one) and spacer to help me space my breathing properly, and a five day course of antibiotics. Somehow I got through the week, did all my performances, and finished the course of antibiotics - which I was relieved about because it was causing me to come out in itchy hives and to feel nauseous.

Then a few days after finishing the medicine, two and a half weeks after my cough had started and while my grandparents were visiting, I suddenly got a blocked nose; I thought it was either hay fever or a cold, though usually when I have a cold, I get a sore throat first. Since then, my nose has constantly been running or blocked, but especially so in the last week - it wasn’t too bad though, it felt manageable and the cough had subsided so I brushed it off and carried on going to work as usual. All of last week and the week before, however, my nose has constantly been on and off like a tap - and my cough started to come back. On Friday, I felt very poorly and like I had a sore throat, but I thought it was a result of post nasal drip or something from my nose being so bad; on Saturday, the sore throat went away after I coughed up some gunk, but that’s when the cough got REALLY severe.

So since Saturday night, the cough is back and maybe even worse than it was before; I’m coughing so hard I’m gagging and worrying I’m going to vomit. I’ve tried using the inhaler and drinking lots of water, but nothing has helped - I’m still hacking away and bringing up the most disgusting shit from my lungs. I don’t like taking days off of work but even I had to concede defeat last night, and this morning I had to tell the headteacher of the school, the teacher whose class I’m in, and my employment agency that I’m too sick to come in. I don’t get sick pay either so… that’s fun.

I went to my doctor this morning and told him I’ve been sick for nearly 6 weeks now, that my cough has gotten worse and that my inhaler is no longer helping, that I was taking antibiotics a few weeks ago but it didn’t seem to work, and I’m super congested so I can’t breathe from my nose or my mouth without green gunk coming up. He took my temperature and said I had a fever, which I wasn’t even aware of, and I apparently have “low sats”. He’s prescribed me a different antibiotic now that I have to take twice on the first day and then once on the other six days, as well as some decongestant tablets and a nasal spray.

The doctor also wants me to do an X-ray, so… currently I’m sitting in a walk in centre and waiting to have an X-ray done. I’ve never had one before, at least not that I can remember, but apparently it’s painless and quick. They’ve just called number 20 and I’m 21, so… yep. Exciting, I guess?

Hopefully once I tell the school/agency that I’ve had to have an X-ray on my chest and that I’m on a bunch of medicine, they’ll understand I’m genuinely sick and not just trying to get out of work… fingers crossed!

Anyway, to sum up my mood right now:

(I’ve used this as a joke so many times but it’s not funny anymore, I’m genuinely extremely unwell and want to cry)

[sunlightbabe]

GOALS FOR 2023: A (BELATED) END OF MARCH, APRIL, AND MAY CHECK IN

so. super fell off the wagon in all things sksks

MARCH: a bad month, honestly. ate poorly, drank too much, wasn’t nearly as active as i should have been. i was barely sleeping and just felt sort of Off about everything- i started making more mistakes at work too, which was very frustrating because i’m very good at my job, tbh. i hadn’t fully realized it, because part of me did know what was coming, i think, but i was unhappy in my relationship and scared of how things would change in my friend group if (when) i broke up with nick. 

APRIL: first half? a wreck, honestly. i was so anxious about breaking up with my boyfriend that i lost my appetite, i was unable to focus on anything, and my sleep schedule was borderline non-existent. the week after the breakup was also really, really rough, where i was drinking waaaay too much wine. but then the second half of the month? much better. i started going on daily little walks, i started cooking more. i signed up for a membership with an organic food company, i started eating healthier and going to bed by 11 every night. drank less. started to really feel Good about myself ??? most important part, i think, is that i forgave myself for being “bad” during march and april. i’ve been gentle and kind to myself and my mental health is sooo much better for it, holy shit

MAY: still haven’t managed to incorporate daily yoga into my life, but the daily walks have made a huge difference!! if i was unable to go for a walk around the city- bad weather, or my join issues started flaring up- i would do some little stretches and exercises so that i was always doing something every day. well, almost every day ksks. i wrote a bit too!! nothing i can publish yet, all very much wips, but it was good to sit down and get back into writing. i spent more days in may not drinking than drinking, which is a Vast Improvement compared to march and april sksks. mistakes can be made, i just have to focus on living a better and heathier life!!! 

i like to write these blurbs to keep myself Accountable and i’m excited to read all of these at the end of the year so i can keep track of how things went / see where i still need to improve <3