#there's no way to not sound like a paid advertisement and i hate that

[deadghosy]

Hazbin Hotel x Jeff the killer or BEN drowned reader.

Please?

SURE! I’ll do Jeff the killer as someone had requested I do BEN drowned! 🦆💗💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X JEFF THE KILLER! READER

prompt: after fighting with BEN drowned, Ben decided to send you into a show….

You were asleep snoring as Ben snickered holding up a tv that was playing a title card saying “HAZBIN HOTEL” and with that. He smacked you having you go inside the tv with a devilish smirk. You hit the ground as your body did a whole fucking Peter griffen pose 😭

*metal sound* DAYUM!

You were screaming curses under your breath at Ben who just smirks at the tv and leaves whistling like a damn cartoon character. You dusted yourself off looking around this place.

“The fuck is this?….” You said with a scowl looking around…there’s a bunch of ruined buildings and fire everywhere. You walked around confused as some demons whistle at you. Literally catcalling you as one tried to grab you, when they tried to grab you. You stabbed their fucking hand smiling with that extended smile to your cheek.

“Fuck you think you trying to do huh?” You said with a crazed smile as they fall holding their hand to see you aren’t really a “girl” “YOU’RE A GUY??!” You rolled your eyes wanting to be sarcastic “No. Ima killer..Now. Go. To. Sleep.” You said lastly stabbing the demon in its head. You kept walking as the bystanders move out of your way.

AND YEES WE ARE GOING WITH FANON LOOK INSTEAD OF THE CANNON LOOK😨 CANNON JEFF IS SO…..

Let’s just skip ahead, so you went to the hotel as you seen an advertisement about redeeming….tbh you didn’t give a fuck about redemption, you only needed a room.

Vaggie was definitely judging you by your looks as you had shaggy [idk if I wanna give you black hair or just your own color hair but you can imagine yourself as Jeff or nahh] hair and blood stained clothes. But soon later you turned out to be a chill person who helps their peers but also jokes around.

Alastor and you just stare at each other “smiling” at each other just waiting for the other to talk.

“…..so like..are you always this ugly or were you born that way…” “my smiley fellow, I was born for radio…” “no you were born to be ugly-”

Alastor immediately hates you after that but your boldness is entertaining. He might just take you as a guest for his broadcast.

Angel would love to play with your hair and braid it…as you relax at the touch of Angel’s hands in your hair. It reminded you of how Sally braided your hair when she was bored.

Angel had put pink bows in your hair saying “this is so coquette💗” and you just stood there looking at the hand mirror he gave you. “Angel wtf. >:/”

You woke up to get your laundry to see your white jacket IN FUCKIN PINK?!

“ANGELLLL! IMA CHOP OFF YOUR DI-” yeah angel hid in the bathroom as your anger was no match for any demon….

Lucifer will feel concern about your face as you don’t look…normal I suppose. He’ll be probably have a clear weirded out face

I feel like you and Lucifer would have a weird friend dynamic as you just roll with his hyperactive activities.

“How in the hell do you eat?” He says poking your open slit by your mouth. “I just eat. Simple as that.” You said at the king of hell.

Yeah I imagine Lucifer had put duck stickers on your jacket one time.

I imagine husk and JTK! Reader doing a drinking competition….you owed husk 20 hellbucks. 🥲

Husk will actually tolerate JTK! Reader as they don’t whine and don’t complain much until something actually bothers him.

Sir Pentious would be scared of you…I mean if a normal person saw you. They would be horrified.

You give off a depressed Starbucks worker vibes who don’t get paid for shit…..literally a sinner would test you as Charlie or someone will have to hold you back as you swing your knife. “LET ME AT THEM YOU LIL SHI-”

The crew had always noticed you seemed to look more like a human other than a sinner or hell born. But they never really asked. I mean shit Alastor wanted to ask but Charlie had to tell him to stop it.

The egg boiz were scared of you until you saved Frank from cracking as he tried to reach the damn cookie jar.

You used your body to soften his fall as you hit your head on the ground. “GAH DAMN-” *crash* and then minutes later it was found out sir Pentious was watching over your knocked out body as Frank was telling how cool you saved him.

You sometimes try to call Ben to pick you up and this is how it goes: “Ben…YOU SHORT STACK MOTHERFUCKA! YOU BETTA GET ME OUT OF HERE OR I WILL CUT YOUR LINK LOOKIN ASS-” he had you on voice mail as Ben was just chilling playing video games.

I headcannon you having to wear a fucking smiley mask to not scare off residents😭

“Hi welcome to the hazbin hotel….” You said in a dead tone flat. The sinner looked at you confused asking questions. “ Why are you wearing a mask? Is your nose too big? Do you have bad breath? Are you sick? Are you ugly under the mask?”

You had enough as your eye twitched grabbing the sinner by their collar. “How about I shove my foot up your-” “OKAYYY!” Charlie says seeing you about to give the sinner a piece of your mind as she grabs the sinner from your grasp. “How about we show you around the hotel…”

Yeah you don’t do the greeter job no more….

At least you get to give out food as husk serves drinks. That was at least a cool job as husk helped you serve out small little portions of the trays you used.

I headcannon niffty to make you a bug “flower” crown to show how she admires you.

I imagine Charlie would get you a metal shirt and you would be like. “oh thanks.” You smiled and took it.

You had a knife stash just incase you had to defend yourself. You love collecting knives when bored….

Keyword was HAD. Charlie found your knives and hid them from yourself as you had a sad puppy face at seeing your stash gone.

Imagine you just standin there and a Charlie had put stickers on your jacket saying, “good job for not killing!”

You’re such a good kid😄

[peachyynotesapp]

A Taste of Normalcy

Pairing: f!Reader x Jason Todd

Summary: Jason is a nervous little dweeb and I want him so bad it’s criminal.

| • | - | • | - | • | - | • | - | • | - | • | - | • | - | • | - | • |

Jason’s favorite game to play during the day, the hours before he went on patrol and the minutes before he slept, was to imagine a completely different world for himself. He’d been at this endless loop of waking up at 4pm, stalking around his corner of Gotham after dark, and passing out from exhaustion at around 5am every night morning.

He’d spend the time between intense combat and following leads letting his mind drift away from Gotham, pretending he’d gone to college; taught English or History or something completely different after he got his degree. He’d imagine a life in a little town somewhere farther up north, he didn’t like the heat of Gotham summers, he thought he’d enjoy seeing the frozen lakes in Maine winters. He’d thought of a family of his own, when he felt generous he’d let himself imagine a girl, too.

It was daydreaming that gave him the smallest taste of normalcy; a hint of what could’ve been, if things were different. He hated when reality pulled him back, when he was reminded of how truly impossible that dream was. Until he met y/n, that is.

Y/n worked at a coffee shop he sat in once after a lead ran cold. He had time to kill, and the cafe was advertising a new drink he wanted to try. He paid for the drink and sat down at the table, ignoring the way the cashier stared at him like he was carrying a gun. He was, of course, but it’s not like she knew. As the girl handed the order slip to barista and whispered, Jason kept his eyes fixed out the window like he was witnessing the Second Coming of Christ. He knew he had an intimidating appearance, he didn’t want to make anyone else sweat with his eye contact right now.

He heard chatter over the soft music and the burring noise of the espresso maker, and while he tried to tune it out, it felt impossible after he heard that voice. Her voice. She laughed at whatever her coworker said and Jason felt his heart twinge. He didn’t want to look over, he didn’t want to encourage his already concerning interest in a faceless voice.

When she said his name, he swore his heart stopped in his chest. He mentally cursed himself for his pathetic swooning, knew he needed to get out of the house more if he was lonely enough to get this excited over a voice. That argument would’ve worked, too, if he didn’t catch her eyes watching him as he walked over.

No one had ever looked so equally enticing and terrifying to him before. He was ashamed of the poetry that flew through his mind as he noticed the array of freckles across her nose, the way it wrinkled slightly when she smiled at him, the light rose on her cheeks, the loose strands of hair that fell behind her neck from her messy ponytail. He vividly recalls telling his brother Dick all of this over the phone later, claiming he must’ve met a Kryptonian, or maybe an angel.

He must’ve stood there at the counter for at least a minute in silence, the way she tilted her head slightly and lifted her brow with confusion.

“Does it look okay?”

Shit.

She sounded earnest in her concern, and it made it all the worse for his growing infatuation. He shook his head too quickly, smiled too awkwardly, spoke too loudly.

“No, no— I mean, yes, it’s perfect! Good. It looks good.”

He felt his cheeks burning and his hands clamming up. He coughed as he grabbed the drink, hoping she would focus on the sound and ignore the way his hands shook. She glanced down at his hands, anyway. He swallowed and pivoted around, beelining it to the door like he was trying to run from an explosion. Which, in a metaphorical sense, he was. He froze when he heard her call his name again, and turned his head slightly, praying the ever-loving terror in his eyes at speaking to a girl twice didn’t translate. Twenty-four year old men shouldn’t sweat so much at the mere concept of talking to a girl, but yet, here he was.

Her smile in that moment felt like putting frozen peas on a swollen ankle. He needed to work on his similes.

“You forgot your receipt!”

He swallowed and shook his head, turning back to the door as he responded.

“N-No, I didn’t need-“

She clears her throat and wags the paper out at him, seemingly refusing to accept his polite decline. He smiles nervously and walks back over, grabbing the receipt (too quickly, again), mumbling a quick “thank you” before he practically runs out of the cafe. He balls the receipt in his hand and reaches towards a trash can on the street, pausing inches away from the lid at a glimpse of pink on the black and white paper. He almost rips the paper in half when he unfurls the receipt, his lips curling into a grin when he sees 10 digits and a little message scrawled onto a receipt that, he realized now, wasn’t his.

Text me if you’re feeling brave, tough guy.

- Y/n :)

He thought he was pathetic for the squeal that left his body at some messy handwriting from a pink gel pen. He straightened up and cleared his throat, forcing the Jason-Todd-Scowl (trademark pending) to return to his face, ignoring the way his heart was racing. He couldn’t help himself, though, when he got home. He sat there on the floor of his nearly-empty apartment, his phone in one hand and the receipt in the other. Panicking.

“And that’s where I’m at now. What do I do, Dick? Is it too soon to-“

He heard wheezing from the other line and he knew he’d messed up, assuming Richard “Dickhead” Grayson would be of any assistance. He bit his cheek and wished he’d called Roy instead. After a while Dick catches his breath and speaks, his amused grin impossible to miss in his voice.

“Sorry, sorry, Little Wing. I just—- I’m confused. You somehow managed to get a girl interested enough to give you her number, but you didn’t even-“

“No, I didn’t text her, Dickweed. You should’ve seen the girl! What the hell do you say to that?!”

Dick stifles a laugh and tries to maintain his composure.

“Jay, you’re a dumbass. She obviously wants you to-“

Jason could hear a distant voice on the line. A voice that sounded a lot like a certain brat he avoided telling ANYTHING to in fear of-

“Is Todd still whining about his crush? Tell him to stop being such a-“

Jason hung up the phone before Damian could whip out any more of his Shakespearean insults, he’d gotten enough of those in the past hour. He sighs and rubs his eyes, checking the time.

5:57pm.

Three hours after he left the cafe, and he still couldn’t produce the courage to send one text message. He read the note over again, typing in the phone number and throwing up one last Hail Mary before he sent a quick “Hey, it’s Jason.” He dropped his phone back onto the floor and groaned, hiding his face in his hands and berating himself for his lackluster message. He prayed it would be enough to get a response, but he was a realist, so he knew it probably wouldn’t.

It only took 2 minutes and 32 seconds for his phone to buzz.

Took you long enough, tough guy.

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Hi guys, I originally wrote this as a way to feed my horrible and disgusting addiction to Jason fluff but unfortunately I got carried away and now I think I might make this a thing (writing fanfics). I think it’s the natural trajectory for a freak like myself. Anyway!

[hunnylagoon]

Take Me to War

PT1 Friendly Fire

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

A writer, I think is someone who pays attention to the world. We are observers, it is in our nature to be off-putting and turn shallow things deep.

Premise: Your neighbour is becoming increasingly loud and you decide to do something about it.

PT 2 Here!

Two things I hate the most?

My neighbour and New York City.

They shared something in common, they never rest. I liked my quiet life in my small town until I was convinced that all of the greatest writers lived in the city, what a joke. I sold my virtue to move to New York and now my body burned with the shame of not belonging.

I worked as a journalist and in advertisement but it didn't fill the gaping mass that consumed me, I felt like a sellout so I quit to do freelance, and now I feel like even more of a sellout. Freelance is making me think that I hate ghostwriting more than I hate my neighbour and New York City.

It's like you do all of the work and get zero reward but I'm desperate to pay the bills and all that stuff I've been telling myself all my life 'I may never be a rich man but the rich man will never have me' well, the rich man most certainly had me. I was paid an almost criminal amount of money to pour my soul into art just for it to get stamped beneath a new name and make a gross income six times the size of what I sold it for.

I look for happiness everywhere but I do not find it. I search for it in things everyone seems to pry joy from; I go clubbing, walk in Central Park, and date around, but happiness doesn't seem to exist there for me.

I plead for it in my morning cups of tea with a spoonful of honey, the sunshine glittering in a puddle after a rainstorm, for a brief moment, it flickers in the light of my cinnamon-scented candle. The truth is I am almost comforted by my sadness and it is in my lowest moments that my creations are the most beautiful, it is like I am dead and I despise those who aren't for I enjoy the company of my silence more than anyone I have ever met.

It was my dream for my name to be above 'New York Times Best Selling Author' but instead, it is just my work beneath it and maybe that's why I'm so bitter.

Right now as I am trying to salvage the bits and pieces I was given by a washed-up pop star for her memoir my neighbour is screaming and laughing incoherently in their apartment, it makes me miss living in an actual house.

The noise usually started up when I would finish up my writing and get ready for bed, then it would go all the way through the night. The dumb fucker probably threw parties every single night; my roommate never faced an issue with this as she worked at a club and was usually working when the deafening noises would begin.

I on the other hand who lived in that apartment and worked from that apartment was always cursed to listen to the random thumps and spats of laughter that sounded all through the night. At least once a night when I'm sound asleep, I hear a bang against the wall and each time without fail, I'm brought awake with my heart thumping.

Trust me, I have retaliated.

On occasion when I'm sleep-deprived and at my absolute limit I'll bang on the walls, that only stops the noise for a minute. I've even complained to my landlord and that one week was heaven until it eased back to the clamour that I've almost grown used to.

Almost.

I still hate it.

I'm broken from my thoughts when my phone rings, it vibrates till it's almost at the edge of my desk and I feel for it; don't worry buddy, I wanna jump too. I read the caller ID and I almost wanted to gag, it was a woman from the publishing company who reached out to me and asked me to write Nicole Elliot's novel. Despite wanting to throw my phone against the wall to stop Noemi's constant checkups and get back at my neighbour while I'm at it, I answer the phone "Hey, Noemi!" I glance out the window where the winter sun has long set, leaving nothing but billboards, street lamps and neon signs to light up the New York night. Under the unforgiving lights I can barely make out the gentle snowfall.

"Hey," She draws it out and I can hear in her voice that she is smiling "I know it's a little late, just checking in, how is the draft coming along?" A loud thump sounds against my wall along with intolerant cackling "What's that?"

"Just some street noise," I dismiss "Anyways, the draft is coming along great, I'm a couple thousand words away from finishing it. I will of course send it to you and I would really love it if you could reach out to Nicole and ask for her opinion on it before I carry on with the final copy," I give a middle finger to my wall, even if my neighbour can't see me, it makes me feel a little bit more formidable "I did follow her outline, which was difficult but I think I salvaged it pretty well."

This time there is a yelp from my neighbour and what sounds like someone slamming their hands down onto a table, Noemi thankfully ignores it "You haven't been in touch with Nicole?"

My eyebrows furrow "She hasn't responded to any of my emails and she's been turning down all of our scheduled Zoom calls, so no, I have not been in touch with her."

"Weird," Noemi comments and there is a brief break of silence between us "She's been M.I.A on our end too," I could hear her scribble something down. "So can you get the draft to me by Friday?"

Two days? If I lock myself inside and don't see the sun then I totally can "Absolutely!" I do work better under a deadline.

"Great," She sounds almost relieved "We will hunt down Nicole, it would be nice to get her greenlight with this but whether or not she approves it, she has already signed off and it will be going to print."

"Okay," I fight the urge to respond with 'sick' or 'aight' because I'm an adult now and someone who is masquerading as a professional.

"Sorry, what was that you mentioned about an outline?" Noemi asks, she sounds more confused with each word "I wasn't aware Nicole made any-

She is swiftly cut off by a crash from the other side of my wall, when I say crash I mean it. It sounded like someone just bodied their car into drywall. My eyes went wide as I saw a crack splitting up my once pristine white wall. I hold my phone against my collarbone as I get up and pound my fist against the wall, giving it a kick for extra measure.

"Is everything alright?"

"Certainly," The nice thing about phone calls is that the person on the other end can't see your awkward habits or subtle outbursts (Or neighbours breaking through your shared wall). After I hit the wall, everything went silent for just a second before laughter sounded heavily from multiple people. "Noemi, thank you for sourcing me out to write this, I am really grateful for this opportunity I will send you that draft on Friday." I try to wrap up the call but she speaks up.

"Well, I've read your work and I was very impressed, I trust you will do well with this. Sorry to have called you so late-

"Thanks, have a nice night now!" I'm talking faster than I can even think, the only thing in my head is the fact that my neighbour is slowly deteriorating my wall.

"Wait-

Before Noemi can finish her sentence, I've hung up the phone. I'm leaning back in my cushy office chair, hands gripping my hair as I stare down the newly formed crack in the wall. I don't entirely like to be confrontational, even in school I hated drama, but I was beginning to think it was necessary.

I saved the progress I had made on the memoir and pushed myself up from my desk. I was clad in nothing more than a t-shirt and some plaid pants, it was my writing attire and in the moment I didn't care much to make a good first impression. It was fucking freezing the second I got up from my desk.

The moulding on my bedroom window was broken which allowed the frigid New York air to slip into my room and make me shiver with each breath. At my desk, I would usually have a throw blanket to shroud my freezing body but the moment I discarded it, I felt regret. I almost wanted to wrap myself in it to confront my neighbour but the pyjamas alone didn't help me look tough.

I did however shove my feet into some cow slippers and march right up to their apartment.

Apartment 2D stood in front of me, the pastel blue door making me angrier with every second that I looked at it. I rapped my knuckles on the wood and crossed my arms to stop me from shuddering.

My nerves built up as I slowly heard a door within the apartment shut followed by footsteps leading to the door. I would just ask them politely to quiet down and calmly work on a way to fix the shared wall that they are slowly ruining.

The door opens and staring me down is a woman. I had expected it to be a man to be truthful. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the colour teetered on the verge of auburn and brown. The woman is clad in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, it's almost parallel to my outfit.

"You need to be quiet," I say the first words that come to mind "And stop assaulting my fucking wall."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "Are you apartment 3D?" She asks to which I nod "I knew you would be stopping by soon." She has this sheepish and almost sardonic smile on her face and despite the amusement she's portraying I can see sadness brewing in her green eyes like a storm.

"I don't know what you're doing in there where you are up all night, I don't even have a clue how you sleep and work with all this time to spare to be a nuisance." I say and then swiftly feel the urge to backtrack "I'm sorry, that was a little rude, but mate, I can't sleep or work when you're being loud doing whatever you do."

"Fuck," She mutters looking back into her apartment and then at me "I'm sorry, I'll keep it down."

"What about the wall?"

Her eyes look me up and down, settling on my cow slippers "I'll find someone to fix the wall."

I press my lips tight together, looking dead into her eyes, scraping my brain for something else to say. It was almost like I wanted to fight. I had expected this to be a full-out conversation that ended in yelling but god she was pretty and she was telling me just what I wanted. "Okay."

"Okay?"

I regard her once more with what I assume is a cold glare before ushering back into my apartment and slamming the door behind me, the whole time, my neighbour watches me from her doorway.

That was the first night of uninterrupted sleep I'd had in a month.

-

I woke up earlier than I would've liked when my roommate Margot came home from work at 4:56 on the dot. She made sure to slam every single door and cupboard before throwing herself onto her bed in all of her makeup and musty clothes that had to endure whatever happens at a nightclub between the hours of 8 pm and 4 am, which I can't imagine is very clean.

Still, even though I was a little ahead of schedule I fell into my morning routine. It started with ignoring my phone, this was followed by a mug of Bengal spice tea with a teaspoon of honey and a splash of cream.

Sometimes I would curl up on the couch, though it snowed last night and I loved fresh snow. Freshly fallen snow absorbed sound, it was like soundproofing for the earth. There wasn't anything like the rare peace you could find in New York. I figured I would have my morning tea on the fire escape.

My peaceful image was destroyed the second I pried my window open and crawled through I was hit with the intense smell of pot. "Shit," I mutter, instinctively wafting the scent away from my nose.

"Sorry, man," I see my neighbour leaning against the railing of the fire escape, nursing a joint. It hadn't crossed my mind that I shared a level of the fire escape with her, I had never seen her out here but now the smell of weed that drifted through the damaged moulding on my window made sense, I had always assumed it to be Margot.

"Joint for breakfast?" I ask, half-joking. A dusting of powdery snow adorns each step and railing, creating a delicate layer of white that contrasts with the industrial gray of the metal though it looks like my neighbour has pushed all of the snow off the platform.

"Nah, for dinner I guess, it helps me sleep," She's in the same outfit from last night, except her hair is now loose around her face and she threw a hoodie over her tanktop.

I furrow my eyebrows "You've been up all night?" The slight tension from the previous night has dissolved completely.

"Yeah," She says it like it was a stupid question and it partially was but I hadn't stayed up that late since New Year only because I was the designated driver and was in charge of getting everyone home safe. "I don't sleep much, that's probably why I keep you up all night."

I mean, I'd let her keep me up in other ways "Honestly, I've gotten used to it, it's almost like white noise." I try to sympathize even if it isn’t necessarily true.

"Next time I'm loud, you have every right to bang on my door and chew me out." She takes a drag from her joint and I watch as the smoke escapes her lips, her cheeks tinted pink from the cold.

"Good to know," I glance behind her at the open window and all I see are purple LED lights cutting through the darkness of her apartment. "Now I know that we share a fire escape I'll just crawl through your window and yell at you that way," I joke, taking a sip from my snoopy mug.

This makes her laugh in the slightest, she crushes what remains of her joint on the cold railing and tosses the bud into the pot of a dead plant that's covered in snow and has lived on this fire escape long before I moved in; one time I just about removed it but I felt bad, it's like I was evicting it from its rightful home "Feel free."

"Am I allowed to ask why you're up all night breaking the sound barriers?" I ask, pulling my fuzzy robe tighter around my body to fight the bitter air. "Are you the leader of a cult? Would it be better for the world in the long run if I push you right now?"

The corners of her lips curl up into a smile once again "You've figured me out, just know I've got some big plans with Koolaid," She plays into my teasing.

"It was flavour-aid, actually." I don't know why I said that.

"What the fuck is flavour-aid?"

"Koolaid basically," Silence stretches between us "So what do you actually do all night?"

"It's a bit complicated," She says, of course, it was complicated. "I work from home," She couldn't do something normal, she probably did voice acting or ran a podcast or some weird shit like that.

"Sick," Don't worry, I made myself cringe when I said that too "I work from home too."

"Yeah, you said something about work last night, are you in marketing?"

I shake my head "I'm a writer," every time I tell someone that, I feel a twinge of embarrassment. I know it wasn't a noble career like my parents had hounded me over, but it felt noble to me. I had two absent parents and was raised by a pack of wolves, I would devour as much food as fast as I could because I didn't know when I would be eating next. I was far too emotional to be around all of the narcissists who preferred their own faces to my company, the only friend I had was the written word.

Since then I have been serving my soul up to strangers through word documents.

The thought makes me homesick for the arms that did not hold me and I truly expect my neighbour to make a mockery of me, the way others have. The way they've told me 'It's a tough industry but hang in there!' and pat me on the back like I'm a hopeful child clinging to her mother's skirts.

"That's really cool," She smiles while she gazes out to the skyline, I can see her perfect side profile and ski-slope nose "I wanted to be a writer, I thought myself to be a poet, and then I thought myself to be a scientist and wanted to be an astronaut. Now, I'm here."

"Where's here exactly?"

"Working things out, figure it out as I go," She shrugs like she is unsure of her answer.

I think it's beautiful how everything around me has been touched by human hands and carries so much history. For a quick moment, my mind wonders to those who built this building, the calloused hands that crafted the iron railing and now my neighbour who was leaning against it. "What's the end goal with this whole freefall thing?"

"To make it out alive."

"And your name?"

"It's Ellie."

-

That night Ellie stuck to being quiet as she promised. The next night was a different story. I was so close to finishing the draft of Nicole Elliot's memoir and was praying that the deadline would pass with no issue.

However, the noise began again. I was coming around to like Ellie and I didn't want to go yell at her again so I shoved my headphones in and turned up my playlist as loud as I could. There is no song I can blast in my headphones to drown it out.

She did say that the next time I was loud I could come and chew her out, I wouldn't do that; I would just knock on her door and quickly tell her that she was being too loud, and then we would both carry on with our respective work.

I stopped in front of the smooth door and raised my hand to knock. Ellie slips the door open just a crack, when she sees that it's me she opens the door. "Hey, Ellie."

"Hello," She smiles "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She had a very nice smile.

We both know the circumstances of my visit but I spell it out anyway "Dude, you're way too loud, it's disruptive and I'm working under a deadline."

"I know, I'm sorry." She looks genuinely apologetic.

"I don't know any office job that needs you to scream for hours on end," Alright, that blows what could've been a simple visit where she apologizes and I leave, I always had to add on.

"Right, sorry," She carries herself with so much confidence that it is like she is wearing armour made of gold though she has these subtle awkward tendencies of someone who has never been loved and was forced to improvise. "It's hard to explain,"

"Yeah, you've said-

"Do you wanna come and see?"

I'm taken a little aback and for a minute I think this is all a ploy for Ellie to lock me in her her apartment and kill me because she is sick of her neighbour banging on her door "What?"

"Well, you've asked a couple of times and if you have a minute I can show you."

I pause, mauling over her proposal. I think of my laptop on my spruce desk, open to the final pages of the memoir and I make up my mind "Alright, just not too long."

"If you say so," Ellie opens the door wider for me to move past her and then shuts it behind us.

Ellie's apartment is what I had expected from her even though it is surprisingly nice. She has a large L-shaped sofa in the living room adorned with throw blankets and pillows and a huge flatscreen with a coffee table in front of it. The layout is exactly like mine but inverted, her open kitchen has some odd knick-knacks that looked like they belonged on an Amazon must-haves list.

I don't go into her bathroom and the door leading to one of the rooms (What is equivalent to Margot's bedroom) is shut. The apartment itself is pretty sparse aside from little bits and pieces as she only moved in a month prior.

On the left side, I see that purple LED spilling out of what I assume to be her bedroom.

She walks in ahead of me and the second I follow in after her there is one question I have to ask "Ellie, are you a porn-star?" There are entirely too many computers in here. Her desk is set up with one of those fancy triple-screen PCs and she has a laptop placed seemingly randomly on a white loveseat that's pressed against the right wall.

There is one of those galaxy lamps that projects that trippy shit onto your walls and ceiling. The screen of her PC is facing our shared wall and I can see a huge hole where I assume that a loud crash from the other night occurred. Plastered all over the walls are posters from video games and movies, many of which I hadn't seen.

"What?" She sounds nearly offended "No," she grabs a folding chair from the corner of the room and unfolds it beside her black florid office chair. She sits on the folding chair and motions for me to sit in the office chair. "Come, sit."

I hesitantly sit in the chair "Are you going to attack me now?" I ask, getting defensive for no particular reason other than it was in my nature "Because I've read The Outsiders and I'm pretty sure I can fight."

She chuckles "I'm not gonna fight you."

"Because I'd win?"

She furrows her eyebrows but has this look of amusement on her face "Yeah, definitely."

"So what is this?" I motion around at all of her equipment.

Ellie puts one earbud in then hand me the other "Chat," She says, looking dead at the camera clipped onto her PC "This is my neighbour who came to yell at me for being annoying, she has every right."

"Who are you talking to?"

"I'm streaming," She said, clicking something on the screen so it changed, instead showing Ellie and I in front of the camera, I looked absolutely lost next to a rolling chat bar full of jokes that I didn't understand and people saying hello to me.

"So I was right," I turn my attention to Ellie "You are an internet person."

"Yeah, I'm an internet person but you weren't right, I don't do porn."

"Not yet," I shrug "Times are desperate," To this, the chats come in even faster than before. "So do you just sit here all night and scream at people?"

"I play video games and do challenges, sometimes I do just sit here and scream at them."

"That makes so much sense," I say "If there's any job that needs you to be obnoxiously loud and annoying, it's a youtube personality."

"Okay, well-

"So you're like Logan Paul?"

Her eyes go wide "No-

"What explains why your eyes are so bloodshot."

"You are a writer," She says it like it's a fact I wasn't aware of "You are in no place to judge, you probably spend as much time in front of a screen as me."

I nod "I hate to say you're right," My attention shifts to the hole behind me "Can you explain how playing video games put a hole through the wall?"

Ellie looks almost embarrassed, she doesn't say anything in response, instead, she just clicks something to screen share with us in a little box in the corner and then goes into YouTube. She types in 'Ellie Williams falls through wall' My eyebrows furrow as I read it, and she clicks the first video that pops up.

The video starts off strong; Ellie is cackling at something that her friend off-camera is saying, her friend then makes a comment that makes her laugh even harder and she throws herself back in her chair. This act breaks it, you can hear the chair snap beneath the pressure and Ellie just lets it happen as the chair crashes against the wall. Her eyes go wide when she realizes she's just put a massive hole into the wall and seconds later you can hear me on the other side banging my hands on the wall. Her eyes go wide and she stares at her friend off-camera, all of the laughter stops abruptly before her friend can't hold it in anymore and erupts in chortles, and the video cuts off.

My hand flies over my mouth to fight back the laughter I so badly want to let out. Ellie and I sit wordlessly, the only sound being donations on the screen and my giggles slipping through. Eventually, I manage to compose myself and look to Ellie, I don't have much to say except for "Oh my god."

A/N: Streamer! Ellie won the poll so here we are. As I was drafting out the other chapters for When I Was Your Girl, I decided that it is most likely to be discontinued unless I do a rewrite which will not be in the near future. I’m not rocking with the plot and there was a lot of mixed feedback, sorry if you were invested I guess, but you have this series to be invested in now!

[writingquestionsanswered]

Prompted by the anon who asked about becoming an author with little writing practice. What are your personal thoughts on writing with a goal to have a paycheck? Including a genuine interest in writing, of course. I've dabbled a little bit in writing, and I always wanted to be published, but I imagined this would happen later on in my life. I'm currently unemployed and have been ghosted and rejected everywhere for over a year now. I'm starting to get a little desperate, and I'm looking at publishing a book as the better option now... but I'm in no way practised enough to be thinking about that. What's your take on it?

The Realities of Making Money with Writing

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but writing--in any capacity--is not a viable solution for when you're unemployed and need a paycheck. It's actually very hard to make a living as a writer, and that's even more true for inexperienced writers...

Writing in a paid position, such as a staff writer for a magazine or newspaper, is the most viable way to make money as a writer. However, paid writing positions are limited in number and highly competitive. You typically need to have the writing experience and credentials to qualify for the position, and if you don't, you're probably not getting a position that pays the bills.

Traditional publishing is not a great goal if you're looking for a paycheck. Not only does it typically take years of writing, querying, and rejection before you get a publishing deal (if ever), once you get that deal it's not the cash cow you may think it is. First, advances for debut authors can be as low as a few thousand dollars and are rarely above $10k. While that may sound like a ton of money, especially when you're unemployed, remember you're paying taxes on that, so what you actually get to keep is significantly less. Then, whatever that amount is will be broken into two to four equal payments. So you're either getting a few grand that has to last you six months or so, or you're getting about $1500 that has to last you a few months or so. In today's economy, neither amount goes very far. It'd be like having a job where you make $500 a month. You'd likely do better with a job at a fast food place. And once you get a book deal, it's going to be at least a year before your book is published and for sale, so it's going to be a while before you're seeing royalties. Even then, most books (even traditionally published ones), don't sell enough copies for the author to make a living wage. Most authors who're able to make a living wage either have a wildly popular book or a backlog of reasonably popular books. Debut authors don't usually make much money.

Self-Publishing is a terrible goal if you're looking for a paycheck. First, self-publishing a book that sells well requires most people to invest a little in their book. Professional cover art, professional editing, and advertising are just a few of the places where self-published authors routinely invest in their own books. While it's possible to self-publish a book for free, you really have to know what you're doing in order to pull it off successfully. Self-published books are hard enough to sell with professional covers, excellent editing, and paid advertising. You won't get far with an amateur cover, bad editing, and inadequate advertising and promo. Self-publishing is also not something you should be considering if you describe yourself as someone who has "dabbled in writing" and "not practiced enough to think about publishing." Self-publishing is a serious industry composed primarily of serious authors who have put in the time, effort, and practice to hone their craft and create quality books. Every time someone half-asses a book in hopes of a windfall, it damages the collective reputation of serious self-published authors.

Furthermore: even if you are an experienced writer who writes an AMAZING professionally edited book with a gorgeous cover, and you put a ton of effort and money into marketing your book, you are still probably not going to make enough on one book to pay the bills. The way to make money via self-publishing is by writing a volume of great books that sell well so you can make money on your backlog. Many authors also do things to diversify their revenue stream, such as offering courses, workbooks, critique and editing services, etc., but these are not things inexperienced writers should be offering.

So, if you're someone who has "dabbled in writing" and are looking for a way to pay the bills right now, writing isn't it.

Instead, you need to look for another job right now and keep writing in your spare time. Read a lot of books, write a lot of stories and novels that will never be published. Hone your craft. Then, when you've got a lot of stories under your belt and have critique partners and beta readers swooning over your fiction--then you can self-publish your debut novel or try querying again. Just remember that, even then--even when you've put in the time to hone your craft--neither traditional publishing or self-publishing is guaranteed to be a windfall that pays the bills. Most authors have a day job.

Best of luck on your journey! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[theaawalker]

Sparks & Sprinkles [Kim P. + Ramona F.]

Pairing: Kim Pines + Ramona Flowers (fluff) Song Inspo: SugarCrash! by ElyOtto Word Count: 1,126 Summary: Kim Pine and Ramona Flowers have a girl's day out: defeating ninjas, eating frozen yogurt, and not talking about Scott Pilgrim. Warnings: violence, use of "slut", mentions of cigarettes Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

Sometimes Kim Pine wonders why she even gets out of bed in the morning. She hates her roommate, Hollie (cheating slut), she has the lamest job in the world (yes,sir, we keep those sorts of DVDs in the back, behind the Transformers display), and the one decent thing in her world, playing drums in the band (We are Sex-Bomb-omb!) has ground to an amazing halt because they are "recording."

She just wants to spend a little time with her best friend's surprisingly cool ex-girlfriend Ramona Flowers (soon-to-be-not-ex if he can pull up his pants and woman up) before they have to meet up with Scott later. A day at the yogurt shop sounded just right. Just Kim & Ramona.

Of course, a gang of ninjas wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Really, jeez, she thinks as she twirls a drumstick around her finger and pokes one of the ninjas in the eye (ZING!), while punching another with a gloved fist (THUNK!) -- is it too much to wish for a bonus level every once in a while, instead of always having to fight toward the big boss at the end?

Ramona obviously feels the same way. Her hair flies back as she scissor-kicks her opponent with a booted foot.

(KPOW!)

"All!" She spins and slices at another in the throat.

(HURK!)

"I!" She cartwheels over to snag a tray.

(WHIRL!)

"Want!" She smacks a girl ninja full-face.

(SLAM!)

"Is!" The girl stumbles back to crash into one of the red plastic tables.

(CRUNCH!)

"A frozen yogurt!"

Kim elbows the last one in the mouth, and he crumples. The ninjas flash like seizure-inducing strobe lights and then disappear. A shower of prize coins hits the table where they left their winter coats. There is a smattering of applause from the other patrons, and then they all go back to their desserts.

Just another day in Kim Pine's Annoying Little Life.

Ramona swipes a hand across her sweaty brow and nonchalantly brushes herself off. Then she walks over to their table and picks up one of the glittering coins. "You want this?" she asks Kim. "I just got paid, so..."

"Yeah, okay." Kim slides the coins off into her hand and then into her pocket. (KACHING! Kim Pine gets $15.79 and 10 exp. points!) No need to go advertising it, but she could use a little extra. Kim jerks her head toward the register. "I'll go get the yogurts. What do you want?"

"They got anything tequila-flavored?" Ramona drawls.

Kim barks a laugh. "You should put in a comment card."

"Then whatever. You choose for me."

"Vanilla, no toppings," Kim says, deadpan. "Don't want the gummy bears to clash with your hair."

Ramona smiles, twirling one pink-dyed lock between her fingers. She gets Kim's sense of humor, unlike Hollie (two-faced slut). "Nice." Ramona says, feigning a lack of sarcasm. "And so thoughtful."

Matching Ramona's sincerity with a bright little nod, Kim slides up to the counter. "One small white chocolate with chocolate chips, and one small vanilla..." She steals a glance at Ramona, who is staring blankly out the yogurt shop window. It's funny. Even with her bright pink hair, Ramona almost seems to fade into the crowd with some unspoken sadness. "...with strawberries."

"Got it." The guy at the register types in the order and then looks pointedly over at the overturned tables to the left.

"What." She gives him a glare. No one picks up at No-Account Video when there's a brawl in the family section except her.

He backs down and shrugs. "Two yogurts, coming right up."

Kim turns her back and doesn't bother to watch him make them. She plays it cool, waiting until he's got the little cup under the noisy yogurt-spewing machine to say, "And don't even think of spitting in them." She doesn't even ruin the effect by turning around again to catch his bewildered, guilty look.

Instead, she watches Ramona.

She's mysterious (Kim likes that), cool under pressure (Kim would give her prize Zildjian to be as cool as Ramona) and fun. Kim doesn't know if it's just the way New Yorkers act, but Kim really enjoys her touch of American badassness in this way-too-Canadian city.

When the yogurts are done, she brings them to the table and sits. Ramona takes her spoon without comment on the strawberries, and digs in, still lost in her own thoughts.

Kim wants to get Ramona out of this sudden funk, but she can't come up with a decent topic of conversation. "Um..." she starts, wincing inwardly. "You... make any interesting deliveries lately?" Then she winces outwardly.

"Huh?" Ramona says, coming out of her daze. "Interesting deliveries? Oh... no, nothing really."

"Still, it's gotta be more interesting than working in a video store." Kim exaggerates a yawn, her plastic spoon hanging from her mouth.

"All right..." Ramona leans forward. "Last month... I almost lit one of my packages on fire with a cigarette."

Kim almost chokes on her spoon. "HAHAHA! How?"

"Guess I shouldn't try to make deliveries the morning after one of Julie's stupid theme parties." She takes another bite of her yogurt. "Too hungover to do two things at once."

"Oh, man, I wish I'd been there to see it...!"

As she's laughing, she sees another freakin' ninja sneak in the side door out of sight of Ramona. Kim prepares to jump up and take him down, but Ramona's hand slips quietly into her purse, and withdraws her giant mallet from the subspace pocket.

With a whirling leap, she smashes the mallet down (THOOM!), just missing the ninja. He jumps over the top of the weapon, sailing above their heads. Kim tries to tackle him to the floor, but Ramona's mallet doubles back and hits the ninja's spine with a satisfying CRACK! He explodes into multi-colored coruscating fireworks.

(LEVEL COMPLETED, 500 bonus points!)

Ramona calmly stuffs the mallet back in her purse. "I almost didn't get that one."

"C'mon," Kim says, completely serious. "You're Ramona Flowers."

The corner of Ramona's mouth turns up. "Guess so."

"Hey, you wanna get some coffee?" Kim asks, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Sure," Ramona says, blowing at a curling strand of pink in her face. "I think we've reached our ninja quotient for the day."

They push their way out of the yogurt shop into the biting winter wind. Kim smiles as the cold starts to numb her ears. Maybe Scott will forget all about this stupid meeting she's secretly bringing Ramona to (he doesn't deserve Ramona, anyway).

She wouldn't mind at all.

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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[aropride]

thinking abt this again bc genuinely most of these are like. necessary or at least Highly Preferred which is part of why im trapped in a sisyphean cycle of living at home with no job. like.

no phone call no email -> really bad at these due to the autism and will leave them undealt with and unresponded to and often unread/unlistened to for days if not weeks. not an employable trait. i can do email if needed but it sucks. phone call is my worst enemy

no talking to people -> i worked at goodwill for 3 weeks and had to work register like 5 times maybe and each time was one of the worst experiences of my life i mean that. never again. i cant do it id rather die

no schedule -> i hate schedule i love schedule i would kill schedule just to revive her again with a passionate kiss. i need schedule but not too much and not too little and also i need to make the schedule. unemployable trait

no computer programming or sex work -> personal preference. im really hot so i could be a computer programmer and i am intrigued by the concept of programming so sex work is theoretically an option but due to how my brain works and experiences in my youth id rather not

no youtube -> i grow more suspicious of social media by the day. also i think being popular online enough to make a living would wreck my mental health in new and exciting ways. also i dont like how i look or sound in videos. and i dont own a ring light

no band -> i dont have any of the skills required to start a band

no leaving my house -> i would love to leave my house this one is a necessity bc i cant drive and wouldnt have a car to drive anyway. and my mother isnt a fan of driving me places and my dads work schedule probably wouldnt allow for it

no one gets mad at me -> pplease. No consequences No criticism No mad at me No mean to me No scaring me No yelling at me. unemployable request

$27 an hour -> minimum wage here is like $13 now and i’d like $15 an hour at least. makes for easy math. $20 is even easier but im not a rocket surgeon

Other notes:

NO furry art (i love you furry art creators i just dont have that skill set). NO dishwasher (bad for my mental health). NO job that is actually 5 jobs (if im paid to mow lawns i dont want to also have to advertise and talk to people and deal with customers and buy new lawnmower parts etc just let me loose on the damn lawn). NO cant sit down (i get dizzy and tired and my legs and feet and body hurt). NO math (i dont have math autism). Etc.

[lichenaday]

Hi there! I read your reply to the info graphic on mushrooms and I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk a little more about Paul Stamets.

I only really know him from the Fantastic Fungi movie (which is fun but does sound like one long advertisement for the guy) and don't know much else about him. I was skeptical when I heard he was self-taught, but mycology has always seemed like such a fringe field to get into (speaking as a Master's student in biology who's had like zero contact with fungi beyond mycorrhiza) that his lack of a formal education didn't sound like a deal breaker.

I did notice (with some apprehension) how he talked about all the patents he sold and thought in that moment he sounded more like Elon Musk than a scientist...

But when I google him all that comes up is praise and talk of what a revolutionary guy he is. Do you maybe have more info on him that's a bit more critical of his practices?

Ugh, yeah I can talk about him a bit more, but I am not sure I am the right person to weigh in. Should've kept my mouth shut, but I also feel like this guy gets too many passes. I hate bad science. First, let me say he is really good at what he does. He is great at finding ways to get people excited about fungi, and that is pretty invaluable when most people would rather ignore fungi or actively hate them. As you say, even folks studying biology don't learn shit about them! It's really sad! So he is doing a bit of a service to the mycological world, which is partially why I think he sometimes gets a pass. But he's an entrepreneur, which, let's face it, isn't considered a bad thing in this capitalist world of ours. He's not doing anything *wrong*, if you don't count really stretching some truths and relying on anecdotal evidence and his own experiences. I think people need to keep in mind that he is trying to sell you something with his claims. For example, mycoremidation has cool potential, but if he really cared about its potential to save the world, he would publish his research and not hide it behind patents.

To be fair, I'm not pursuing mycology out of the pure goodness of my heart or anything. I want to get paid and I want to be acknowledged for my contributions. So maybe I am not so different. But when I read his articles where he continually plugs his books and his talks and his products . . . it rubs me the wrong way as a scientist. From what I can tell, his research practices are not transparent, the info he is giving out is not peer-reviewed, and he promotes and sells products in the alternative medicine market. It bothers me that he is constantly toted as the authority on mycology when there are many other great researchers out there doing incredible work who don't get the same attention because they are busy doing actual science instead of selling their discoveries.

Also he was on the Joe Rogan Podcast so there's that.

[bulldyke-rider]

I cannot stress this enough. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH

If you make things, if you create things, and people question your prices, do NOT give them a price breakdown where you include the concept of an hourly wage.

First of all, you don't make hourly wages. Cause you don't just make the object, right? You also source the materials and run the shop which also takes time. Do you charge hourly for that? You probably don't. Because you don't make hourly wages. You're being paid for your skill and the work not the time it takes. You make profit not an hourly wage.

Second of all, the concept of an hourly wage devalues your product further. Hourly wages are associated with the poor. The poor are associated with low quality. Be smart. Don't associate your brand with low quality.

Third of all, no wage you give yourself is gonna make you sound good. I've seen "at $10/hour for my labor" so many times. It sounds like you don't even value your labor. But if you go really high, people will think you overvalue yourself.

Fourth, would you charge less if you were faster? You shouldn't. It would be a better service. You'd have stuff done quicker. You'd be the place to go for custom stuff. You could charge more.

Fifth, I don't know how to say this, but you're attaching yourself way too much to the price. Like, you're making it seem like the price is more you than product. You're making people feel like they're not paying for a high quality item but for you.

And finally, have you ever seen a luxury retailer ever really discuss pricing? The closest they get is advertising features. Was your shit handmade? It's artisan crafted, right? Just advertise anything you think would make your product seem more high end without giving price breakdowns. People complaining about your price are probably never gonna buy from you.

The only way this can help is bringing you up in social media algorithms so more people find you, but a lot of those people are gonna immediately be irritated with you. Small business hate has become super prevalent on tiktok because posts like this are so common. Small business hate is uncommon on Instagram because they just show the product and the price is the fucking price. (And it's a photo heavy website obviously rather than video which makes a difference in how people create content which is a big thing)

[harleiquina]

I don't want to go down the easy route of "OP is wrong and is a a*hole" so... let's see.

Maybe what you do, dear asker, is a hobby. An artistic pursuit that gives you joy but you are not in it for the money.

It is fine, I also have them. I decorate things.

But I'm 31. What do I know about life?

What I do know that I have a "blue-collar" job that I hate because I need to create. I am an artist and I would love to have my passion as my job and to be paid for that... because I live in a society that requires you to have money to live and I have a family to support (+ many pets and we all know how demanding those little beasts are).

*A sad violin starts playing while I enter the "read more" link*

I work as an Over the Phone Interpreter. I'm very professional and the topics in the calls do not affect me (trust me some things had made my coworkers cry) still... sitting on my PC with the portal open and with a constant back-to-back flow of calls (now is a little less but I still have them) is devastating to me. I broke down in tears before or after my shift out of the blue, mostly at night so nobody can see me or in the shower for the same reason.

I don't enjoy anything now (mom likes to cook for me, but everything feels the same. I just eat because I'm hungry, not for enjoyment). So yeah... this is taking a toll on me.

My mom was super-concerned when I was doing this piece. Because I put A LOT of detailing in something that was supposed to be just a simple piece of painted wood to stick that broken Christmas' ornament. She loves it, of course... but as soon as I finished I told her "You know that Bettlejuice scene where Delia tells her husband 'I'm an artist, if you don't let me do what I want to this house I'll go mad and drag you down with me'? Well... I feel like that" and her answer was "Yeah, I thought so. That's why I left you alone while you were doing it".

I still do it. Every day from 1PM to 7PM I'm on the line and I add 2 hours of Overtime every time I can. (I used to work 8 hours + OT but due the lack of calls I was asked to reduce my time on the line).

I have a family to support: mom and an aunt. Both of them are over 50 so in my country, Argentina, nobody employs them anymore. Mom used to work in Walmart, she did it for almost 28 years, but due to our never-ending economical crisis they started to close stores and she was fired just like that.

I see this moment as a way to repay her. She feed me, clothed me and paid for my College (I studied Advertising thinking of it as a more profitable career than Scriptwriting... but my aversion to kissing boots got me stuck, so here I am now, making 4dls/hr for an Hondurian company that is one of the many from which a Big Interpretation CompanyTM outsources). So fine... it's fine. Everything is fine.

But my soul... is crushed. And I'm tired... I can't even do anything I want I do not find the will... even if I need to do it. I'm exhausted because my job is draining me... and I feel myself bone-dry.

I love when my friends tell me how they've felt after reading something I wrote. (They are busy now, with not enough time to read, but... ah well).

I love writing. It's MY thing. I enjoy creating stories, putting all the pieces together, the characters, their arcs!! ...

I can create worlds!

Why should I conform myself having an ordinary quiet life?!

I also sort of play the guitar. The time my teacher gave me his friend's 12 string guitar I just fell in love with it... it has such a lovely sound. And those times I play something (in the loneliness of my room because I'm very shy) and by chance mom or my aunt hear me and identify the song... I'm so proud of it!! And I can't even tell you when they like the melody that comes of me just having fun with the strings.

Art puts a smile not just on my face but in my heart. It gives me a purpose.

Why should I destine myself to this darkness that surrounds me and makes me so unhappy when I know that I can thrive and maybe be really good at something I love?

Sitting down and writing isn't less of a job because it is sitting down and writing. As I said, I'm 31, I'm still young (I don't feel it like that but, ah well...) I still have so much to learn and perfect in my writing and the topics that I choose. I started at my 17, and my work then was pityful (some good ideas here and there but really bad executed) and how do I know that? Because I kept on reading anything that I found fascinating, learning from any kind of text, learning from people and their experiences... and even from made-up experiences!

We, artists, draw inspiration from life and this is an endless source. We never receive a diploma that says "Yes NOW you are a writer/musician/dancer/actor/other"... those from College are just a piece of paper with little to no value. The real learning is in the process... in the work...

And how can I get better at what I love when I'm wasting my time in something that I hate? Yes, it puts food on the table, but why can't my writing do the same thing? I do not ask for millions, not even fame, but to get rid of the whole "starving artist" cliché. We shouldn't starve for food, but for knowldege and drive.

I'm sorry Neil, although I love your writing and agree with your opinions on most subjects I have to disagree with you on the writers' strike. No-one should have a more privileged life as a result of being clever and creative. I worked from the age of 15 to the age of 65 in low-paid jobs, taking 1 year off to go to drama school and 3 years off to get a fine art degree. I worked in terrible but necessary jobs, labouring, stacking boxes, unloading trucks, running errands, filing, going to work on a bicycle at all hours of the day and night on shift work in all kinds of weather. Even when I was a student I was still working in part-time cleani8ng jobs and even during periods of unemployment I worked in volunteer jobs for charities and social services.

According to Mensa I have an IQ of 160 and according to Plymouth University I have a BA hons in Fine Art but I cannot accept the idea that writers and other creative people should avoid normal jobs like driving an "Uber" or working in an office/shop/factory/construction site. To accept that idea would be to create a new aristocratic class when we should abolishing the old princes and aristocrats.

What we need, I feel sure, is a redistribution of labour so that everybody who can do so would spend some time each year in blue collar work and everybody who can would get higher education and a chance to make art of one sort or another.

The idea of doing other jobs to supplement writing or drawing shouldn't be seen as a terrible thing, a punishment or a suffering. Sharing the jobs around should be seen as normal.

I mean, I've done my half century of sweat labour and it didn't hurt me too much. I'm retired now and still making art of various kinds and I've never asked anyone to pay me for any art piece I've made. making art, writing, drawing etc. is the fun stuff which we get to do in exchange for the blue collar stuff which puts food on the table.

The worst pop song ever written was Sting/Dire Straits song "Money for Nothing" which ridicules the working class from a position of educational privilege.

So what's my question? My question is: What's wrong with a writer doing other jobs to make ends meet? Sounds perfectly fine to me.

Nothing's wrong with a writer doing other jobs to make ends meet. Writers and artists have been doing that since the dawn of time. Actors too.

But by the same token, there's nothing right about assuming that writing isn't a blue-collar job, or that writers and other people who make art can only make it for love and that thus they need other jobs to subsidise their craft.

I like living in a world in which the people who make the things that make the world worth living in get paid for their work. For me, that includes the people who make films and TV, books, art and music and comics.

Having spent a lot of time on film and TV sets, it's a blue-collar world on set, and everyone is working long and hard to make the shows you love. I'm never going to suggest that the riggers or the gaffers or the make-up team or the focus-pullers should drive ubers in order to have the privilege of being on the set and working there.

Or to put it another way, from the most blue-collar writer I ever knew...

[semi-imaginary-place]

ffxiv 5.1-2

you can see sqnx is rolling in shb money. honestly i was fine with arr's lack of animations, voiceacting, and cutscenes. im a ps2 player reading doesn't bother me. i wish xiv was like fe3h where if you cutoff a dialogue line the voice line keeps going until the next is started. dungeons are really getting harder... do i risk dps and dying or tank. remember the days when yashtola was a conjurer and both twins arcanist. soo french elves german voeburt? i need those clawed shoes for my bunny. you sure that's a nu mou? they have tentacle hands and a different face. ah a glamour. they sound like a ten year old boy. beq lugg's a soul mage.... ah voeburt...

like a primal?

i don't remember what was the excuse they gave for why the pc can freely travel between worlds.

i don't think the light visual effect was the right one to use here. hmm the seperation of mind and boy. tempering was described as a filter or barrier between the mind and reality or something. the stagnation was from light aether. i remember early in 5.0 the writers went for quite a while describing how light was stagnant and dark vivacious.

welp i'm locked out of editing my draft. damn you tumblr.

anyways hadn't kal-shir moved to the crystarium also why didn't you ask her what's wrong.

here's the thing they established that upon buying their way into free citizenship they gave up all worldly possession to eulmore/vauthy. so all their private businesses's ownership was transferred to the State. unless vauthy sold them they should still be owner by eulmore. idk if vauthy kept them running or now just owns the trademark and stuff. also why not just make this wrenden mayor. i don't think making the parlor the seat of governance is a good idea. just convert vauthy's room to office space

they really are turning it into las vegas. which i mean the strip is a tax haven but nevada is doing pretty well, implemented some good policies recently. if it's advertising, could do traveling shows and pop up bars. bro you're getting paid in company credits don't do it ask for gil.

it was a whole plot point with moenbryda that white auracite can't store aether it just dissipates it quickly

i don't remember what a soul crystal is. but uh hey anyone remember job stones those picked up bits of memory and personality,

so zenos can use aether now. dude you're a dragoon break a window

look i have dps brain. killing the boss is mitigation. i was i suppose the know the adds explode and wipe me. also where's my easy mode

an echo with out the hydaelyn. hmmm. zenos probably got the battle echo.

im only half listening to voiced lines but he does mention aymeric by name here

wow they're really dangling the plot thread teasers

ffxiv 5.2

ew. the gaius redemption arc.

oh wouldn't that be fun in this game actually forced the player character to choose between the scions and the threat of the garleans. shame that's not going to happen.

oh yeah the ardbert look alike plot thread.

ojii-chan!!!

timeline lore! g'raha arrived after everyone hated the wols, after the flood? pr campaign go! this ties in pretty well with cyella's quest. i do think the player character could use their time better like hello the ultima weapons and garlemald and war and scions, but ffxiv in general has a priorities problem (i remember the arr titan questline), and there's no one the crystarium loves more than the wod and crystal exarch. disturbing really how much influence these two people have. i hope there's a scribe present recording everything the pc is saying. im a bit iffy on the ethics too that 2 people (as moral as they actually are as we know out of universe) should be able to dictate history and opinion. should we be able to do this just because we personally like ardbert and have a personal connection with him. the fact that we're doing this not for truth's sake but because woe ardbert doesn't deserve a bad reputation rubs me the wrong way

huh he's acting like 3.x ardbert. interesting. uh wasn't warrior of light like specifically for hydaelyn's chosen. wow the pc HATES new arbert. i wonder why they are so convinced he's not ardbert initially when there is 0 evidence. like new ardbert walk into the room and pc immediately starts death glaring at them. i actually think it'd be more interesting if the devs had left it ambiguous as to whether that was actually ardbert or not instead of immediately telling the audience he's fake. because a lot of players really liked ardbert and dearly wanted him to come back. and i mean the new writers did bring back gaius, dragoon boy estinien. and fake ardbert acts so much like 3.x ardbert the devs could have made it ambiguous whether he had memory loss or not. string the player on a little have a couple heart to hearts hahaha. uri always refers to the paragons by full title, he's so stuffy and proper in japanese (unlike eng uri who's a theatre kid). it's never Elidibus like in eng it's always Ascian Elidibus, never Lahabrea it's always Ascian Lahabrea.

wol and mean wod different things. warrior of light refers to hydaelyn's chosen, possibly tempered, with the blessing of light, and echo. warrior of darkness meanwhile refers to the person to returned night to novrant no metaphysical implications or affiliation with zodiark. so it's real weird to hear the scions equating the two.

back to the bunnies! that statue's totally going to come to life and attack us. yup

wow the pc hates new ardbert so much "extend a friendly fist". the new writers crying and shaking and sweating and tearing their hair out over how to retcon the old writers saying that elidibus sought to balance light and dark because let's be real the old writers said that and probably didn't have a plan.

the elidibus writers definitely changed. warring triad and 3.x vs 5.x you can tell the writers were writing him for different goals different types of characters.

my, aren't we quick to believe one side of the story. the writers clearly are framing a good guy bad guy situation but if this were real and you look objectively at the situation there's isn;t enough information to be making drastic decisions like attacking the benthos.

that's a little infantizing. the fish people are allowed to make bad decisions.

yeah why didn't we try the boat to begin with

why do we need bismark again. oh it's also buried underwater. could have just sent wol and alisaie instead of destroying another ecosystem

anamnesis anyder. surprisingly intact for 10000 years under the sea or something. unless the ondo have been refurbishing it. like the lights are even on. see originally bosses disappeared into purple wisps because they were ascian aether summons or something but even after that stopped being a plot point they kept the bosses poofing mostly, like there should totally be a corpse there that was a normal person/ondo why'd she go poof into dark aether. huh so that's a a female ondo/sahagin look like (ignoring that they gave the fish tits)

praxis. you help people by helping people. if you leave who's going to help the people of the crystarium and lakeland. who's going to protect the roads and keep the city functioning. what was that you do more by plants native plants in you garden then you do chasing some grade world saving dream. are the devs retconning the echo and hydaelyn connection and separating the two. i like this actually framed as a misconception. what is eli up to. trying to awaken the echo in more people? why didn't any of the scions get the echo if so many in that crowd did. (real reason plot breaking need to keep the pc special). the custom animations for ardbert's face. how did the pc awaken the echo i don't remember. or did we start in the hydaelyn cutscene. hmm what about 1.0 player characters. those two would honestly probably do more good staying in the guard adventuring seems to be a mix of oddjobs and mercenary work you aren't going to be heroes saving people it's a job like what if a crime lord hires you as a bodyguard against assassins.

if zenos didn't implant an artificial echo, maybe he could have awakened it naturally, should have gone to more meteor showers smh. but doesnt he hear hydaelyn's voice? could he be one of the few echoes not tied to hydaelyn?

also yeah i got spoiled on cystal mommy. the internet is is the internet. also asahi is malding from beyond the grave.

[dojodgtl]

Passive income and affiliate marketing for beginners

Introduction

For some people, the idea of passive income is a dream come true. For others, it's an impossible fantasy. But there are ways to make money online and earn passive income that can change your life forever. The first step to making money online as a beginner is learning how affiliate marketing and passive income work together.

What is passive income?

Passive income is money earned without actively working. This can be a great way to make money online and it's not as hard to start than you might think.

The first thing you need to know about passive income is that it comes in many forms, but they all have one thing in common: they require little or no work on your part after the initial setup has been completed. Passive income streams can be automated, meaning that once everything is set up (and paid for), your earnings will continue rolling in without any additional effort on your part!

"Don't be a victim of negative sef-talk. Remember, you are listening”

 - B. Proctor

Why should you consider passive income as a viable option to make money online?

In case you're not sure what passive income is, it's basically income that comes in without you having to work for it. In other words, your time isn't directly spent working on getting paid.

One of the biggest reasons why people want to make money online is because they don't want to spend their days in an office or at home doing something they hate. If this sounds like you, then passive income could be a viable option for making money online!

How do I get started with passive affiliate marketing?

Building a website is the first step to getting started with passive affiliate marketing. There are many resources online that can help you set up a basic website, such as WordPress and Wix. You can also hire someone to build one for you if you don't have time or skillset for it yourself.

Once your site is live and ready for content, start writing articles about topics that people are searching for on Google (and other search engines). The more targeted your articles are with keywords that people use when looking for information on this topic, the better chance they'll rank high in search results so people will find them when they need answers to their questions!

Next come finding affiliates programs - these are companies who want their products advertised through other websites like yours. These companies will pay commissions (a percentage) based on sales made through links provided in their affiliate program; this means once someone clicks through one of those links onto their site where they buy something from said company then both parties win--you get paid some money from whatever sale was made while also helping out another business grow bigger because of increased traffic coming from yours!

" Success is going from Failure to Failure without losing your enthusiasm". W. Churchill

Can I actually make money with affiliate marketing?

Yes, you can make money with affiliate marketing. The key is to find a niche that you are passionate about and that has a good chance of converting. If you don't have your own website or blog yet, then I recommend starting one as soon as possible (see "How do I start an affiliate site?" below).

When it comes time to choose which products/services/niches to promote on your site(s), keep in mind these tips:

 Find something in which people are interested enough to search for answers online but not so much so that there's already tons of competition out there selling similar things. For example: if someone wants information on how they can lose weight quickly without exercising or dieting too much (which many do), then there may only be one or two companies selling weight loss plans online--but if someone searches Google for "best way lose weight fast" then thousands more companies show up offering everything from diet pills through exercise programs all the way down until we get down into extreme diets like liquid diets where nothing but liquids pass through our system all day long until we lose weight fast! The key here is finding gaps within niches where nobody else has yet filled those gaps with content-rich websites full of helpful information

"If opportunity doesn't knock, build a door" M. Berle

This guide will give you a basic starting point and some tips for how to get started with affiliate marketing.

·       Passive income is a great way to make money online.

·    You should consider passive income as a viable option for making money online because it's safe, easy and can be done from anywhere in the world.

·  This guide will give you a basic starting point and some tips for how to get startedwith affiliate marketing.

Conclusion

There are many ways to make money online, but affiliate marketing is one of the best. It's easy to get started and can bring in a decent amount of money if you work hard enough at it. If you want to learn more about this business model or how to get started with it, then Check out this Free Training to learn the: 2-Step System for creating online income.

[billconrad]

Embedded Promotions

This morning, I watched a YouTube video and the “influencer” (The term for an actor on a streaming video. Apparently, he cannot be called a “tractor expert” because that would be too obvious. Also, I hate the word influencer because it sounds like YouTube people are better than us. It was a privilege to be influenced.) was describing how he fixed a broken water pump. I cannot own a tractor because l do not live in a house that can fit/use such an enormous machine, but I still find these videos interesting.

Halfway through the video, the influencer (I still hate that word) embedded a promotion. The idea is when a familiar person is describing the product; the sales pitch will be more effective. In this video, the influencer (I still, still hate that word) plugged the website hosting company Squarespace. The sales pitch had the usual benefits, features, low introductory prices, and a cost reduction for mentioning the influencer’s (I still, still, still hate that word) name at the time of purchase.

I am sure my blog readers see such advertisements often, but what does this have to do with writing? Of course, some reading formats such as magazines, newspapers, comic books, or websites have advertisements or website links, but what about books?

I recall reading books in the ‘70s with center sections loaded with advertisements. These were the same campy type you would (and still do) see in the back of comic books. “Call us to receive a free catalog.” “Send $9.99 to receive your spy glasses.” So I did some research, and in the ’50-70s, they did this type of advertising in inexpensive books to offset the printing cost. The term Dime Novels describes them.

By the ‘80s, this kind of advertising had fallen out of favor, and I doubt you can find a modern book with it. What about a “paid promotion?” Meaning that they pay an author to include a topic. “Our hero was in a bind because he needed a quick way to get the word out. Fortunately, he knew about Squarespace and quickly developed an excellent website.”

I suppose companies can pay super-famous authors to embed promotions, but from reading famous books, I have never read a blatant plug. Instead, authors use the brands they know, “She jumped into her Ford pickup truck.” Unfortunately, the Ford Motor Company would not pay the author a dime for mentioning them. Bummer.

What about a blog? I have read many blogs and never encountered an embedded promotion. There are advertisements on blog sites, and perhaps famous bloggers might get paid to plug something, but the rest of us only receive likes and insightful comments.

Oddly, advertising has not penetrated books. One would think that a famous book such as Harry Potter would have an advertisement or sponsor’s content on every page. I can hear “girrrr” from my blog readers. Yeah, I would also hate a book full of plugs.

Reading is a solitary activity that requires patience and deep concentration. One needs focus to enjoy the medium. Well, I could be part of a new revolution! My website company is Web Hosting Pad, and perhaps they will sponsor me if I embed a plug in this blog. “Did you know that Web Hosting Pad has the best prices? And their customer support is outstanding!” Nice job

Web Hosting Pad, I did my part! Can I please have a free year of service?

    You’re the best! -Bill 

    March 29, 2023

    Hey book lovers, I published three! Please check them out.

    Interviewing Immortality is a psychological thriller about a 500-year-old woman who forces a disgraced author to interview her.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival is a drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

    Cable Ties is a classic spy novel about two hunters discovering that government communications are being recorded and asking the FBI to investigate.

    These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

[beef-brisket]

Mammon: straight to business. Just the way I like it~. So. The newst hit thing. This is going to cause RIPPLES Lucifer. Damn ripples. I've teamed up with Ozzy on this, so you know it'll be good~!

Lucifer: wait- wait. Ozzy? Are you seriously teamed up with ozzy? ...does he know about this?

Mammon: HA! Smart ass! Yes, he does know about it. We're merging our power! Our respective sins to create... the Birdhouse!

Lucifers eyes widened as Mammon pulled a sheet off a building model. It was glorious. The place was built to look like a birdhouse- it's home to the greatest entertainment! Can you guess what king or entertainment~?

Lucifer: uh... well... if it has to do with Ozzie... I'm guessing... seeex?

Mammon: pft. Not just sex. Classy sex. Dancing and singing. Naked. I personally don't care about that, but Oz insisted that my ring needs more sex appeal, so here we are!

Lucifer: uh huh... and uh... why do you need to show me this?

Mammon: because you're our king! This is the first time two sins have collaborated like this! There's even going to be a Birdhouse tm in Lust as well. So... we need you to advertise it!

Lucifer: What!? Why!?

Mammon: Because we're going to profit off something so- deadly, so ethereal, so pure! Angels! Caged Angels! Not real ones, of course, but only the most beautiful sinners will have a place in the Birdhouse. And I'd like you to advertise it for me. You'll be paid, of course- if you really want.

Lucifer: ...angels?

Mammon: angels.

Lucifer: ...well... okay, I guess that's okay...

Mammon: Fantastic! Now, Ozzie have agreed to come to the Pride Ring in three days-

Lucifer: agreed? You two agreed on something?

Mammon: HA ha. Yes. Funny. Three days, Lucifer. We'll be paying you a visit to film our ad. So, feel free to bring any hot sinners you have up there~. Or don't. I don't care. Now, I have shit to do. Piss off.

Lucifer rolled his eyes as Mammon pulled his phone out and called some unknown number. He instantly started yelling, so Lucifer decided to quickly leave.

No sins have ever collaborated before. He definitely wouldn't have thought the first two to do so would be Mammon and Ozzie. But Hell is all about sex and money, so he guessed that it made sense.

Now he just has to film and ad. At least Ozzie will be there, Lucifer knows he couldn't stand shooting with Mammon. He's just a giant bitch at the end of the day.

Lucifer smiled at the fort he made. He could see Adams hair flowing out of the door. He hoped he didn't leave him to long.

Lucifer quietly walked over and crawled inside. Adam was still. His movie seemed to have finished.

Crawling I'm behind him, Lucifer got comfortable. Just as he started to close his eyes, he heard a soft, quiet noise from Adam.

Lucifer: Just me, buddy. Go back to sleep

But Lucifer heard the sound again. Only this time, it sounded pained.

Cracking his eyes open, Lucifer stared at Adam's back. Was he awake? Or was it a bad dream?

Lucifer noticed that he was shaking, only slightly.

Lucifer: hey, Adam? You're okay, you're-

Lucifer rolled Adam over, so he was now on his back. Lucifer jumped when he saw his eyes were wide open, staring at him. Pleading.

Lucifer: Adam? You okay, pal? Can you move?

When Adam didn't move, Lucifer knew something was wrong. His heart broke when he saw Adam start crying.

Lucifer: Hold on, Adam, let's get you out of here, okay?

Lucifer pulled Adam out of the fort. He's never seen anything like this. He was definitely awake, but he was acting like he couldn't move.

Grabbing his hand, Lucifer lifted and moved his arm around, trying to snap him out of whatever is happening.

Lucifer hated the scared, pained noises coming from Adam. But suddenly, Adam launched forward, sitting up straight. As soon as he could move, he hugged Lucifer tightly.

Lucifer: it's okay, buddy. I'm here. I'm so sorry I left... you're okay

Lucifer rubbed Adams back. Poor thing was shaking so badly, and now he was fully crying.

Lucifer: What happened, Adam? You can tell me, bud. What happened?

Adam: f-fell asleep- c-couldn't move- r-red eyes- k-killed me a-again, Luci. They won't l-leave me alone!

Lucifer held him tightly. He's heard of this, but he couldn't remember the word for it. Maybe Charlie would know.

But that can wait. His poor Adam hasn't calmed down at all. Adam already hated sleeping because of the nightmares and now this.

For the first time, in thousands of years, his heart broke for Adam.

Hiya! I've come with that au I was talking about!

So, this takes place after the failed extermination. I'm not sure how long, but let's say 10 years. 🤷

(This is a memory loss thing, but they work on getting it back 😉)

So, for years, Charlie has heard rumors of a huge, lush forest appearing somewhere on the outskirts of the Pride Ring. It's nearly impossible for sinners to go there.

But Charlie is able to venture out, so she decides to take a look. A d what she finds is unlike anything she could have even imagined. It was like a forest from Earth had appeared. Everything was lush and thick and perfect.

She felt so at peace here but also uneasy. How did it get there? How long has it been there?

She tells her father about it, and he's also curious and decides to head out.

What he finds. Is Eden.

Not the same Edenz because how is that possible? But it's as gorgeous as Eden. He can't help but think of the memories from that time in his life. Meeting his wife, betraying Heaven, tainting humanity.

Adam.

He doesn't think about Adam for too long. He gets too mad. Stupid fucker wasted his life being angry and bitter instead of actually living it. Lucifer tried to save him from Heaven a long time ago. But that didn't go well.

Lucifer walked through the forest. Charlie was right. It was so lush.

In the distance, a large tree with purple flowers could be seen over the top of the rest of the trees. Lucifer instantly recognized it as a wisteria. It was a rare tree in Eden, but it was beautiful. The way its flowers hung down, the different shades of purple. Everything.

Lucifer flew to the tree, stopping on the shore of a small lake. The giant wisteria creates a kind of border around it.

But Lucifer was drawn to something else. A large statue sat in the middle of the lake. It was facing away from him. It was huge, at least 10-11" feet tall. It had what looked like long hair. And huge bat like wings that reached the sky, towering over everything, especially Lucifer.

Lucifer was so curious about this statue that he stepped into the lake and walked towards it. Surprisingly, what he thought was a lake was just a giant puddle. The water barely reached the top of his heels.

Purple petals and water plants littered the water. Everything about this was ethereal. Even the statue had purple flowers on it.

Getting closer to the statue, he walked in front of it. He couldn't see half of its face because of the hair and the way its arms were positioned. But Lucifer could see its eyes. They looked pained and distant.

He was completely captured by the beauty of the state. He had no idea it was possible to capture such beauty in stone.

Lucifer saw something sharp and golden sticking out of the ground in front of the statue. It shined so nicely in Hells sun.

Reaching down to touch it, Lucifer pulled his hand back as it burned him when he tapped it with his finger.

He watched as a lightning bolt of gold shot through the statue and out of its chest.

Lucifer watched it for a moment. Oops. He really didn't mean to break the statue.

But when nothing happened, Lucifer stood and decided to continue exploring. He's done enough damage to this place.

Lucifer stopped as he heard the statue crack and break. He didn't dare to look back until the sound stopped. Shit. He's really done it now.

Slowly turning, his eyes widened. Sitting and swaying in the large puddle was a man. His large, bat wings splayed out behind him. His brown hair flowed down his body into the water.

Lucifer watched the man for a moment. But his breath caught in his throat when the man's eyes landed on him. They were pure gold.

This guy looked like Adam, kinda. Lucifer never thought Adam was this good-looking, but then, he was bashing his face in. But in Eden, Adam was flawless, just like Lilith.

Man: where...?

Lucifer: You're in my Ring, bud. I've never seen this place before, but you're definitely in Pride. In Hell.

Man: Hell...? Never... heard of it

Fuck,he sounded like Adam.

Lucifer: Right... you were kind of a statue for a bit there... so uh- you have a name or anything?

The man stopped looking around, and let his eyes lock onto Lucifers.

Adam: ...Adam... I think

Lucifer stared.

Oh shit.

That's the good shit right there!!!

And feeling guilty Lucifer takes him in and tries to help him and finds his feelings along the way.

Love it!!

-

Lucifer: A-Adam?

Adam: .... Yes, that feels right

Shit, what the fuck was this? He thought that Adam died fully when he got stabbed. But he became......... This.

Lucifer: Okay, do you know who I am?

Adam: ..... No.

Great. Just great he had no memory of-.......

Adam had no memory. Which means he doesn't hate Lucifer anymore. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise so that he could have him back....

Lucifer: Well Adam, my name is Lucifer. I'm the King of Hell, which means I rule over this land.

Adam nodded, he didn't see anything wrong with this guy. He was small but he oozed power and that was enough to keep him from trying anything stupid.

[thesporkidentity]

So last year my sister-in-law gave me one week of one of those meal kit deliveries for Christmas. And another friend gave me a different one as a very very late birthday present. I’m not sure how they both came to the same idea, but it was actually a really enjoyable gift. So my mom and I are gonna do the same for her this year. And some people can be really hard to shop for so I figured I’d put this idea out there as well for any of you who have friends or family who like good food and enjoy cooking (because you do have to cook them, and depending on the recipes that can take a medium amount of effort).

And it’s a $40 off of a first-time order so you can get 3 meals for 2 people for $20. And I know this sounds like a commercial but whatever. It’s a good deal for nice food for someone who likes to cook. And cancellation was easy, no fees and they don’t give you a hard time or anything because I’m gonna be honest there’s no way I would ever pay full price for this kinda thing like holy shit I’m way too poor for that. But $20 I can do.

Whatever. I enjoyed it as a gift. Other people might too. ^There’s a discount code. Do with it what you will.

[letteredlettered]

How to write smut?

The first rule of writing smut is don’t write smut.

Not unless you want to.

When I ask most fic writers why they're writing smut, the answer is almost always, "So people will read my fic." This is the wrong reason to write smut. The idea that people won't read your fic if there's not smut in it is a lie. IT'S A LIE.

People will read your fic even if it doesn't have smut in it if it has something that interests them. If your fic interests you, trust that it will interest someone else for the reasons you find it interesting--don't stick in a shiny object that doesn't even belong there just for the benefit of others. Some of my most popular fics don't have smut in them. One of them doesn't even have kissing. Do I get shitty comments about that? Yes. Do I get shitty comments on fics that do have smut? Yes. You get shitty comments no matter what.

But okay, it's true that more people might see your fic if it has smut in it. That is because there are people who go looking for smut and only want fic with smut. Why do you want them to read your fic? In a societal sense, I understand this as a motivation. People like to be paid attention. In a personal sense, I don't understand it at all. You want your thing, that you made, to be read. So why add a thing that you don't like, that you don't care about, so that people will pay attention? When you do that, are you getting praise for some aspect of yourself and who you are, or are you getting praise for doing what everyone else wanted? What is that praise worth, if they're not praising you?

Look, I understand how hard it is to have no kudos, no comments. I understand what it's like to not know anyone in fandom and feel like everything you do is ignored. But what you need to do in those situations is to work on getting a beta, people who can advise you; you need to work on advertising and getting to know people and putting your fic in places where it can be seen. And if then people still don't like your fic, you also need to realize that maybe not everyone will love your story--but I guarantee you if you really work at it to make something you deeply love and care about it, other people will care too, and it will be that much more fulfilling because they care about what you care about.

If the plot, themes, arcs, or development in your story require smut, usually you can easily skip smut if you don’t want to write it. I hate writing descriptions. Most people say that good writing requires descriptions. You know what, fuck them. I’m going to get away with describing as little as possible, and when I do describe things it’s going to be the way I want to do it.

The next rule of writing smut is don’t write good smut.

Write the smut that gets you hot.

Do people come to this tumblr and ask me about writing smut because they think I'm good at it? I'm very flattered if that's the case. Keep in mind that at least fully half, probably more, think I'm terrible at it.

That's because people have different tastes, and when it comes to food and sex, that taste is even more wildly baseless than all the other preferences humans have. I hate berries, fish, and potatoes. Why? I have no idea. Similarly, some girls only like to have sex with girls. What the fuck? Some people only get off when there are feet involved. Some people will literally get off fucking anything that's warm and wet. Is that a problem? Is that wrong? Is that weird? We've accepted that everyone has unique sexual preferences, and yet tumblr dot com still thinks there's a right way to write sex? (I don't mean you, anon. Your question is great, and is allowing me to rant about something that apparently really drives me absolutely bananas.)

Most of the smut I read on AO3 is trying so hard to be good smut that it's boring. Either it's trying to be poetic, or it's trying to elegantly write around all the nastiness that makes sex hot; it's describing what bodies are doing and people are feeling while using the words you would use to describe a sunset. Literally no one got wet writing that; they were too consumed by making sure it sounded good and hit all the notes just perfectly to ascend into a perfectly sanitized orgasm. Do you know where I go for good smut? Bad!fic.

The trick is to stop writing smut that pleases other people. Write smut that pleases yourself. At least someone will be getting off, and honestly, if you are pleasing my particular id, I just want people to be hot and happy. If you wrote something that got you hot and happy, even if it squicks me, I'll probably still have more respect for it than something you wrote so you could get your smut Pulitzer, or whatever.

Oh my God there is just years of frustration coming out in this post over never finding any good smut to read. Like, maybe this very tame, very sanitized stuff is what other people actually find hot, which--good for you. There's a lot of stuff out there for you.

But I want to read filthy things that use filthy words. I want it to be really nasty. I want you to reach into your brain and wrap your fist around your wriggling, writhing id; I want you to yank it out and nail it, still pulsating, into a Word document; I want it, still dripping, smeared all over the face of AO3.

Is that hard to do? Yes. Desire is a living thing; it doesn’t like to be pinned down; as soon as you try to grasp it it will slither out of your hands like a wet eel and turn into a quivering jellyfish and you’ll be saying to yourself, what the hell? I only like eels; I’ve never been into jellyfish, and you will not understand yourself. You will not know yourself. You will not recognize this organic morass of convulsing mess that is your libido.

Will it embarrass you? Also yes. Is it worth it? Yes. Yes, yes yes, you will feel so hot; your fic will be so hot, and everyone will go home so fucking satisfied, believe me.

[studiojeon]

use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | -   Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee). 

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed. 

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish.  “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes. 

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better. 

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you. 

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face. 

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly. 

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. 

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips. 

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way. 

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were. 

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion. 

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on? 

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week. 

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker. 

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way." 

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while. 

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either. 

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out. 

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside. 

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you. 

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of  his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know". 

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right. 

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?" 

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though. 

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t. 

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.