#AFTER BEING STUCK WITH CUSTOMS FOR 21 DAYS

[somnoir]

My father's secretary

Danny Fenton did not expect to be secretary material but after 7 years of being a hero and having Jazz as his elder sister, he was damn good at it. He needed a job, he knew that, and Wayne Enterprises was willing to hire a 21 year old taking online college classes for aerospace engineering.

And he was fucking thankful for that cause Mr. Wayne was pretty neat and bought him good food and coffee whenever he looked out of it. Half his family were already in Gotham with only his parents in Amity. They were finally reformed and now their research finally advocated for the rights of ghosts and spread awareness on their culture. Good for them.

Jazz and Dante were in Arkham working as a psychologist and guard. Elle was still in school, enrolled into Gotham Academy once Vlad insisted on paying her tuition. To be fair, he was paying for Danny's tuition too.

But back to his secretary duties. His boss was Bruce Wayne, yes, but he did often work with the man's son and the current CEO. Tim was nice and had the same caffeine addiction as him. (Jazz highly discouraged this friendship in case they both made a monstrosity of coffee and energy drinks.)

But Mr. Wayne was the best. He was rather clumsy and a bit airheaded but he was the best fucking boss he could ever ask for. The man's paternal instincts were on point and Danny was almost intimidated when the man started handing him extra cash whenever Danny came to the office looking more tired than usual. When that failed, Mr. Wayne resorted to giving him more material things.

Now, he doesn't want to take advantage of this ridiculously kind man with a lack of self preservation (God, was this what Jazz felt about him?). But Mr. Wayne had given him this amazing coffee maker and then proceeded to give Danny the best toaster ever. And Danny has always been known to resolutely be against Billionaires adopting him. But Mr. Wayne?

Danny had honed his back talking skills to perfection to talk down arrogant elites that kept demanding for his boss. He mastered his customer service voice and that condescending look he saw the receptionists give people like they were tantruming toddlers. Danny was ready to fight for that man (Vlad was choking somewhere as the Fentons worriedly look at him).

Jason has heard about Danny Fenton a couple of times. Tim, Dick, and Bruce had mentioned him a lot. Bruce's new secretary that looked like he'd woken up from a coma and was comparable to a grumpy cat on his best days. He's seen the guy a couple times, noticed how he was almost as tall as Jason. Honestly, he kinda looked like a twig (but then that was because of Danny's suit that he made sure didn't completely fit him).

Seriously. Danny was willing to fucking fight anyone and everyone for Bruce Wayne.

The guy was strange. Very strange. Especially when the pits seemed to either become frantic or calm whenever he was around. It depended on the situation really, but mostly the pits grew calmer around Fenton. Like a cat that finally saw its favorite person. It was so weird.

He was drawn to Fenton, sometimes finding himself walking towards the man before he snaps out of it.

It's on this day where Danny was by Bruce's side, a stylus and tablet in hand. He was furiously tapping away at his phone, cursing under his breath about bothersome and stuck up cialiteses.

"Jason!" Bruce happily greets, "Don't mind Danny for a bit. He's telling of some investors for trying to meddle with the company. Tim is too sleep deprived to handle it."

"Where is Tim?"

"Danny threatened to throw the company's coffee maker out the window if he doesn't take a nap." Bruce chuckles, glancing fondly at his fiesty secretary. "Danny?"

"Give me a minute, Mr. Wayne. Some people are trying to squeeze into your schedule when I specifically told them that they can't." Danny says, clearly irritated but looks at Bruce with an apologetic gaze. "No—Mr. Luthor, neither Mr. Drake nor Mr. Wayne are available on that day—"

And it dissolved into Danny telling of what Jason assumes was Lex Luthor to stop his attempts. In other words, corporate for Fuck off.

"He's good, isn't he?" Jason humms as he follows Bruce down the hall, glancing at the tired employees that looked utterly exhausted and horrifically motivated. "Looks like adoption bait."

"Unfortunately, Danny is a very much against Billionaires adopting him. His godfather is one and has attempted multiple times." Bruce sighs, feigning a sorrowful look as he sends Danny a small pout. "What did you do when he tried the fifth time again?"

"I blew up his car, Mr. Wayne." Danny nonchalantly says, "But that only made him want to adopt me more."

Jason blinks, baffled before he's laughing at the utter absurdity of the situation.

"That sounds similar to—"

Gunshots tore through the air as people immediately screamed. At the entrance of the building was the Joker in all his insanity, guns blazing. Jason froze, sucking in a deep breath as he took one step back. They weren't in costume, they weren't the Red Hood and Batman in that moment.

"Nightwing, Robin, and Spoiler are on their way." Oracle says through the comms but that doesn't comfort him in the slightest.

It's chaos in moments and people are ducking their heads to avoid the bullets. Jason and Bruce look right at each other, taking cover as bullets ruin the walls and furniture. But Bruce is dragged from his spot, pulled towards the Joker who laughs maniacally as he pressed a gun against Bruce's head.

"Mr. Wayne!" Many people yell as they all stared in horror as the Joker threatens Gotham's beloved prince.

Jason immediately remembers an explosion and a crowbar.

(Reminder, Danny Fenton was very much ready to go to war for Bruce Wayne).

A tablet and a stylus was suddenly shoved into his arms. Jason blinks, turning to Danny who tugs at his tie and rummages through the counter for something. The Joker sees this, clearly irritated.

"You! Eyes on me!" The Joker practically demands, hysterical that not everyone was paying attention.

Danny apparently doesn't give a damn before looking the Joker straight in the eye.

"Eyes in me." Danny repeats.

A second later something was thrown and a cutter was cutting through the Joker's eye.

Jason gaped at the seemingly harmless secretary, unable to comprehend that this man had just thrown a fucking cutter into the Joker's eye.

Bruce is set free.

Everyone is frozen in place.

Everyone watched as Bruce Wayne's tired and overworked secretary beats the shit out of the Joker, saying something about how he wasn't going to lose a good boss.

No one particularly knows what to do once Danny pulls out the cutter with the Jokers blood and... Fucking shit, was that his eyeball?!

Dick and Damian arrived at some point, also too shocked to do anything. When Danny was done and satisfied, with the Joker still alive, groaning and whimpering from the pain that Danny inflicted.

As if he hadn't almost killed the Joker, Danny turns to them with a tired smile.

"Mr. Wayne, I implore you not to die. I can't lose the best boss that I've had." He plainly says and takes the tablet and stylus back from Jason.

Jason thinks he might just marry this feral man.

Yeah.

Yeah, he was definitely going to marry Danny Fenton.

Part 2 | Masterpost

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Zuck’s gravity-defying metaverse money-pit

Tomorrow (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

Think of everything that makes you miserable as being caught between two opposing, irresistible, irrefutable truths:

"Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops" (Stein's Law)

"Markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent" (Keynes)

Both of these are true, even though they seemingly contradict one another, and no one embodies that contradiction more perfectly than Mark Zuckerberg.

Take the metaverse.

Zuck's "pivot" to a virtual world he ripped off from a quarter-century old cyberpunk novel (reminder: cyberpunk is a warning, not a suggestion) was born of desperation.

Zuck fancies himself an avatar of the Emperor Augustus (that's why he has that haircut) (no, really). The emperors of antiquity are infamous for getting all weepy when they run out of lands to conquer.

But the lachrymosity of emperors has little causal relationship to the anxieties of tech monopolists! Alexander weeps because he just loves a good conquest and when he finishes conquering the world, he's terminally bored. That's not Zuck's problem at all. When Zuck attains monopoly status, his company develops an autoimmune disorder, as his vicious princelings run out of enemies to destroy and begin to knife one another.

Any monopoly faces these destructive microincentives, but tech is exceptional here because tech has the realtime flexibility and speed that brick-and-mortar businesses can never match:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Sociopaths with tech monopolies are worse for the same reason that road-rage would be worse in a flying car: adding new capacity to indiscriminate self-destructive urges turns ordinary car crashes into low-level airburst warfare:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

The flexibility of digital gives tech platforms so much latitude to break things in tiny increments. A tech platform is like a Jenga tower composed of infinitely divisible blocks. The Jenga players are the product managers and executives who have run out of the ability to grow by attracting new business thanks to their monopoly dominance. Now they compete with one another to increase the yield from their respective divisions by visiting pain upon the business customers and end users their platform connects. By tiny increments, they increase the product's cost, lower its reliability, and strip it of its utility and then charge rent to restore its functionality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/24/cursed-bigness/#incentives-matter

This is the terminal stage of enshittification, the unstoppable autocannibalism of platforms as they seek to harvest all the value created by business customers and end users, leaving the absolute minimum of residual value needed to keep both stuck to the platform. This is a brittle equilibrium, because the difference between "I hate this service but I just can't stop using it," and "Get me the fuck out of here" is razor-thin.

All it takes is one tiny push – a whistleblower, a livestreamed mass-shooting, a Cambridge Analytica – and people bolt for the doors. This triggers the final stage: the "pivot," which is a tech euphemism for "panic."

For Zuck, the pivot got real after a disappointing earnings call triggered a mass sell-off of Facebook stock, history's worst one-day value incineration, which lopped a quarter of a trillion dollars off the company's market cap:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2022-12-19/dramatic-stock-moves-of-2022-led-by-meta-dive-nordic-flash-crash

This was when the metaverse became the company's top priority.

Now, in my theory of enshittification, the step that follows the pivot is death: "Finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

Many people have asked me about the conspicuous non-death of Facebook! That's where I have to fall back on Stein's Law: "Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Facebook can't continue to annihilate value, alienate its workers, harm the public, hemorrhage money in support of a mediocrity's cherished folly forever. Can it?

Admittedly, it sure seems like it can. Facebook's metaverse pivot has thus far cost the company $46,500,000,000. That is: $46.5 billion. That's even more money than Uber torched, seeking to maintain the illusion that they will be able to create monopolies on both transport and the labor market for driving and recoup the billions the Saudi royal family let them use for the con:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Don't worry: the Saudi royals are fine! They cashed out at the IPO, collecting a tidy profit at the expense of retail investors who assumed that a pile of shit as big as Uber must have a pony under it, somewhere:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber has doubled the cost of rides and halved drivers' wages, using illegal gimmicks like "algorithmic wage discrimination" to squeeze a little more juice out of the nearly exhausted husks of its workforce:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But Stein's Law hasn't been repealed. Drivers can't drive for sub-subsistence wages. Do that long enough and they'll literally starve: that's what "subsistence" means. We lost a decade of transit investment thanks to the Uber con, at the same time as traditional taxi drivers were forced out of the industry. Uber can't be profitable and still pay a living wage, and the fantasy of self-driving cars as a means of zeroing out the wage-bill altogether remains stubbornly, lethally unworkable:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Which means we're at the point where you can get off a commuter train at a main station and find yourself stranded: no taxis at the taxi-queue, no busses due for an hour, and no Uber cars available unless you're willing to pay $95 for a ten-minute ride in a luxury SUV (why yes, this did happen to me recently, thanks for asking).

As more and more of us are exposed to these micro-crises, the political will to do something will increase. This can't go on forever. "Don't use commuter rail" isn't a viable option. "Walk three miles each way to the commuter rail station" isn't viable either. Neither is "Pay $95 for an Uber to get to the station." Something's gotta give…eventually.

"Eventually" is the key word here. Remember the corollary of Stein's Law: Keynes's maxim that "markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent." Sure, anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, but that is no guarantee of a soft landing. You can't smoke two packs a day forever – but in the absence of smoking cessation, the eventual terminus of that habit is stage-four lung cancer. Keep hammering butts into your face and your last smoke will come out a crematorium chimney.

Zuckerberg hasn't merely blown a whole-ass Twitter on the metaverse with nothing to show for it – he's gotten richer while doing it! In the past year, his net worth increased by 130%, to $59 billion, thanks to an increase in Facebook's share-price, driven by investors who stubbornly remain irrational, keeping the Boy Emperor solvent long past any reasonable assessment of his performance.

What are these investors betting on? One possibility is that the rise and rise of Facebook's share-price represents a bet on technofeudalism. Since the Communist Manifesto, Marxists have been predicting the end of capitalism. That end seems to have come, but what followed capitalism wasn't socialism, it was the return of feudalism, an economic system where elites derive their wealth from rents, not profits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Profit is the income you get from investing in capital – machinery, systems, plant – and then harvesting the surplus value created by workers who mobilize this capital. Capitalism produces massive returns for its winners – in the Manifesto's first chapter, Marx and Engels just geek out about how productive and dynamic this system is.

But capitalism is also a Red Queen's Race, where the winners have to run faster and faster to stay in the same place. Capitalism drives competition, as other would-be winners pile into the sector, replicating the systems that the current winners are using and then improving on them. This is why the prophets of capitalist end-times like the FBI informant Peter Thiel say that "competition is for losers."

Capitalism's "profits" stand in contrast to the feudalist's "rents." Rents are income you get from owning something that other people need to produce things. The capitalist owns the coffee-shop, but the feudalist owns the building. When a rival capitalist opens a superior coffee-shop and drives the old shop out of business, the capitalist loses, but the rentier wins. Now they can rent out an empty storefront in the neighborhood everyone's coming to because of that hot new cafe.

Feudal and manorial lords also made their fortunes by extracting surplus value from workers, but these rentiers don't care about owning the means of production. The peasant in the field pays for their own agricultural equipment and livestock – control over the means of production is necessary for worker liberation, but it's not sufficient. The worker's co-op that owns its factory can still find the value it produces bled off by the landlord who owns the land the factory sits on.

The jury's still out on whether American workers really see themselves as "temporarily embarrassed millionaires," but America's capitalists have a palpable, undeniable loathing for capitalism. The dream of an American "entrepreneur" is *PassiveIncome: money you get from owning something capitalists and/or workers use to create value. Digital technology creates exciting new possibilities for rent-extraction: a taxi-operator had to buy and maintain a car that someone else drove. Uber can offload this hassle onto its drivers and rent out access to the chokepoint it created between drivers and riders, charging all the traffic can bear. This is feudalism in the cloud – or as Yannis Varoufakis calls it, cloudalism.

In Varoufakis's Technofeudalism, he describes Amazon as a feudal venture. From a distance, Amazon seems like a bustling marketplace of manic capitalism, with sellers avidly competing to offer more variety and lower costs in a million independently operated storefronts. But closer inspection reveals that Amazon is a planned economy, not a market.

Every one of those storefronts pays rent to the same landlord – Amazon – which determines which goods can be offered for sale. Amazon sets pricing for those goods, and extracts 45-51% of every dollar those sellers make. Amazon even controls which goods are shelved at eye-height when you enter the store, and which ones are banished to a dusty storeroom in a distant sub-basement you'll never find:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

Zuck's metaverse is pure-play technofeudalism, Amazon taken to the logical extreme. It's easy to get distracted by the part of Zuck's vision that will convert us all into legless, sexless, heavily surveilled low-resolution cartoon characters. But the real action isn't this digitization of our fleshy wants and needs. Zuck didn't spend $46.5B to torment us.

The cruelty isn't the point of the metaverse.

The point of the metaverse is to rent us out to capitalists.

Zuck doesn't know why we would use the metaverse, but he believes that if he can convince capitalists that we all want to live there, that they'll invest the capital to figure out how to serve us there, and then he can extract rent from those capitalists and start earning "passive income." It's an Uber for Cyberpunk Dystopias play.

Zuck's done this before. Remember the "pivot to video?" Zuckerberg wanted to compete with Youtube, but he didn't want to invest in paying for video production. Videos are really expensive to produce and the median video gets zero views. So Zuck used his captive audience to trick publishers into financing his move into video. He fraudulently told publishers that videos were blowing up on Facebook, outperforming boring old text by vast margins.

Publishers borrowed billions and raised billions more in the capital markets, financing the total conversion of newsrooms from text to video and precipitating a mass extinction event for print journalists. Zuck kept the con alive by giving away (fewer) billions to some of those publishers, falsely claiming that their videos were generating fortunes in advertising revenue. These lucky, credulous publishers became judas goats for their industry, luring others into the con, the same way that the "lucky" guy a carny lets win a giant teddy-bear at the start of the day lures others into putting down $5 to see if they can sink three balls in a rigged peach-basket.

But when we stubbornly refused to watch videos on Facebook, Zuck stopped spreading around these convincer payouts, and precipitated a second mass-extinction event in news media, as the new generation of video journalists joined their predecessors in Facebook-driven unemployment. Given this history, it's surreal to see publishers continue to insist that Facebook is stealing their content, when it is so clearly stealing their money:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

Metaverse is the new Pivot to Video. Zuckerberg is building a new world, which he will own, and he wants rent it to capitalists, who will compete with one another in just the way that Amazon's sellers compete. No matter who wins that competition, Zuckerberg will win. The prize for winning will be a rent increase, as Zuckerberg leverages the fact that your "successful" business relies on Facebook's metaverse to drain off all the value your workers have produced:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/18/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video/

This can't last forever, but how long until Zuck's reality distortion field runs out of battery? That's the $46.5B question.

The market can certainly remain irrational for a hell of a long time. But the market isn't the only force that regulates corporate outcomes. Regulators also regulate. Europe's GDPR is now seven years old, and it plainly outlaws Facebook's surveillance.

For nearly a decade, Facebook has pretended that this wasn't true, and they got away with it. Mostly, that's thanks to the fact that Ireland is a corporate crime-haven with a worse-than-useless Data Protection Commission:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

But anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. Facebook has finally been dragged into EU federal jurisdiction, where it will face exterminatory fines if it continues to spy on Europeans:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/07/luck-of-the-irish/#schrems-revenge

In response, Facebook has rolled out a subscription version of its main service and its anticompetitive acquisition, Instagram:

https://about.fb.com/news/2023/10/facebook-and-instagram-to-offer-subscription-for-no-ads-in-europe/

For €10/month, Facebook will give you an ad-free experience across its service offerings (it's €13/month if you pay through an app, as Facebook recoups the 30% #AdTax rents that the feudal Google/Apple mobile duopoly extracts).

But this doesn't come close to satisfying Facebook's legal obligations under the GDPR. The GDPR doesn't ban ads, it bans spying. Facebook spies on every single internet user, all the time. The apps we use are built with "free" Facebook toolkits that extract rent from the capitalists who make them by harvesting our data as we use their apps. The web-pages we visit have embedded Facebook libraries that do the same thing for web publishers. Facebook buys our data from brokers. Facebook has so many ways of spying on us that there's almost certainly no way for Facebook to stop spying on you, without radically transforming it operation.

To comply with the GDPR, Facebook must halt surveillance advertising altogether. There's no way to square "spying on users" with "you can't surveil without explicit consent, and you can't punish people for refusing."

And of course, "not spying" isn't the same as "not advertising." "Contextual advertising" – where ads are placed based on the thing you're looking at, not who you are and what you do – is hundreds of years old. Context ads underperform surveillance ads by a slim margin – about 5% – but they're vastly more profitable for publishers. That's because surveillance ads are feudal, controlled by rentiers like Facebook, who own vast troves of the surveillance data needed to run these ads. Traditional ad intermediaries (agencies, brokers) took 10-15% out of the total advertising market. Ad-tech companies – the Google/Facebook duopoly – take 51% out of every ad dollar spent.

Eliminate surveillance ads and you torch their feudal estates. Facebook will always know more about someone reading a news article than the publisher – but the publisher will always know more about the article than Facebook does:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

There are rents under capitalism, just as there are profits under feudalism. The defining characteristic of a system is what happens when rents and profits come into conflict. If profits win – for example, if productive companies beat patent trolls, or if news publishers escape Facebook's rent-extraction – then the system is capitalist. If rents win – if investors continue to bet large on the metaverse as its losses pass $50 billion and head for the $100 billion mark – then the system is feudal.

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. The question isn't whether the platforms will eventually become so enshittified that they die – the question is whether they will go down in an all-consuming fireball, or whether they'll go down in a controlled demolition that lets us evacuate the people they've trapped inside them first:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/09/let-the-platforms-burn/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/30/markets-remaining-irrational/#steins-law

Image: Diego Delso (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Puente_de_las_cataratas_Victoria,_Zambia-Zimbabue,_2018-07-27,_DD_10.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Home. The word itself tasted like mothballs and childhood memories, both bitter and sweet on your tongue. 

What others would call home, did not feel like home to you at all, not after your mother had destroyed everything that you were familiar with just when you had turned fifteen.

It was then that she had begun an affair with an actor named Cillian Murphy, whom she had met on the set of a movie he was filming and, just as if she had planned it all, she became pregnant with your stepsister Sadie. 

Your mother was 37 at the time, with Cillian having been five years her senior. 

It was all over the papers at the time and, just as you thought that things could not get any worse, she left your father, who was heartbroken and bewildered, and moved in with this then stranger to you.

You and your twin sister, Cliona, were expected to just follow suit, like little lost puppies and whilst Cillian himself seemed like a nice man, it was not something that you were able to do that easily. You had always been strong willed and gave your mother quite the run for her money with your rebellious nature which, in part, was the reason why she had pushed you to go away to live your father in New York.

New York was where you had finished school and, as soon as you turned eighteen, you made your way on a journey around the world. 

You travelled to New Zealand, Africa and then South Amerika too.  There were times when your money ran out but you always managed to get by, taking on odd jobs here and there, just so that you could survive.

It was during your time in Tanzania, when you met a woman, in her forties, who worked in an orphanage with you, and it was her who introduced you to photography. She told you that the camera was woman's truth and that with it, you had the power to tell stories.

She handed you her canvas camera and you began to snap away, discovering facets of Tanzania, its people and its wildlife in ways that words alone could not articulate.

The experience had left an indelible impression on you and from that day onwards, you knew that photography would be the lens through which you viewed the world and translated your experiences.

Your wanderlust had taken you on a three year journey, one that had seen you capture the beauty of the world through photographs. You had even managed to sell some of them to a hip magazine, which showcased your work alongside a spread of your adventures.

The pay was decent, just enough to keep you going and still let you see the world.

College had been an option, but not one you wanted to seriously consider. You had never been one to follow the rules and conventions that came with higher education, and the thought of being stuck in a classroom for four more years seemed unbearably tedious.

But then, after an amazing three years, your travel journey came to an abrupt end when you got into trouble with the law while passing through the UK, on your way back to New York. 

At London Heathrow,  just after taking a flight from Rome, you were stopped by customs for questioning regarding a package that they found in your luggage. It was a small box that just fit snugly within the zippered pocket in your backpack.

Inside the box there were as an illicit substance and it was this substance that got you arrested. 

You were questioned for hours, leaving you dazed, frightened and confused about how the drugs had even gotten into your bag and, after a series of panicked phone calls to your family, your mother agreed to bail you out.

Days later, in court, you were given a short sentence, including a travel ban for three months and house arrest for one.

"I much rather go to jail than live with my mother for four weeks," you thought to yourself, but the sentence had been handed out and, before you knew it, you were taken to where you had once lived, in the outskirts of London. 

Time seemed to slow down the moment you crossed the threshold of that Victorian house, so familiar in every fine detail that it seemed to shrink around you.

The police officer who accompanied you rang the doorbell on your behalf and, after a few moments, your sister Cliona  , whom you hadn't even spoken to in a year, opened the heavy oak door.

Her dark eyes, much like yours, narrowed at the sight of you, before dissolving into a cold, expressionless mask.

"Hi, Cliona," you greeted her, but it was clear that she wasn't interested in talking.

Her thin lips barely moved as she spoke. "Mum isn't home, but come on in," she simply said to the officer rather than you. 

Cliona's dismissive attitude was nothing new to you, but it still hurt.

You had once been close, like two peas in a pod, but she had changed somewhere along the way. Growing up, you had always been the rebel, the one who pushed boundaries and questioned authority, while she was the obedient one, always trying to please your mother.

Over the years, that gap had only widened, until it seemed like you were living on opposite ends of a vast, unbridgeable chasm.

With a resigned sigh, you stepped into the hallway which is when you saw him, for the first time in 18 months.  It was Cillian, emerging from one of the rooms at the far end of the hallway, with your little half sister Sadie clinging to his side, her tiny fingers wrapped around one of his fingers.

As soon as Sadie saw you, she ran towards you , squealing with excitement, and you couldn't help but smile at the sincerity in her voice as she called out your name.

"Y/N! Y/N!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around your waist. Her laughter echoed through the expansive hallway as you stooped down to pick her up, your heart feeling warmer and softer than it had in months.

You had always kept in touch with her, and even visited her on numerous occasions, putting up with your mother for short periods of times for Sadie's sake, mostly while Cillian had been away filming.

He was a busy man and your interactions with him to date were limited.  Cillian took a step towards you, his warm smile radiating kindness.

"Welcome home, I suppose," he said with a slight chuckle, his rich voice resonating through the room. You couldn't help but blush as he looked directly into your eyes, the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine delight at seeing you. It was a small but friendly gesture that made you feel a little better about this somewhat unfortunate situation. 

"Thanks," you mumbled, not quite sure what to say in response. You had imagined seeing him again, but there was something utterly different about him now, something that you had not noticed when you saw him last, about eighteen months ago, at your aunt's wedding. 

He had grown a little older, his hair was peppered with more silver strands, giving him an air of maturity, though his eyes seemed the same vibrant shade of blue that they had been before, sparkling with intelligence and a hint of mischief.

While you were spending some time with your little stepsister, the police officer pulled out some paperwork and what looked like an ankle monitor , informing you that this would now be a part of your daily life since it was ordered by the court for the next one month.

You couldn't help but wince at the sight of the device. It felt like an electronic handcuff latched on, but you didn't complain, knowing that it could have been much worse.

"So, I guess it's a house arrest for you now," Cliona said with a roll of her eyes, "good luck with that." 

"It's only for thirty days," the officer  interjected, clearly trying to soften the blow of the situation, "and if you follow the rules and stay out of trouble, you'll be free to go where you want after that, at least within the UK."

You couldn't help but feel a wry smile creeping up on your face, thinking about all the things you would be able to do once this house arrest was lifted.

But for now, you had to follow the rules and make the best of a less than ideal situation.

"Mr Murphy, are you happy to sign for this?"  the officer asked Cillian, handing him the paperwork related to your bail conditions. Cillian looked down at the documents, his brow furrowing slightly as he read over the terms. 

"Sure," he then said, signing his name with a flourish before looking at the monitor with disdain while the officer turned it on, causing it to light up around your ankle.

"What a strange contraption," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he handed it back to the officer who was quick to leave shortly after that.

"I should probably find my room and get unpacked before mum gets home. I know how much she hates mess," you said as soon as the officer drove off and Cillian nodded  in agreement.

"Of course, you can use your old room, it hasn't changed much," he said before picking up your large backpack and guiding you upstairs.

"You know I could have carried this, right?" you  remarked to Cillian as you watched him struggle with your backpack, his face turning slightly red with the strain.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "I know, but it's no trouble, really," he said as he adjusted the weight of the bag on his shoulder.

You nodded silently, following him as he took you to your old room, which was still located at the far end of the hallway, as it had been before.

He opened the door for you, stepping aside so you could enter first.

As you stepped over the threshold, your senses were immediately bombarded by a whirlwind of emotions – nostalgia, bitterness, and a strange undercurrent of longing.

You had spent countless nights in that room, sitting by the window, watching the stars through the cold glass, dreaming of the day when you could escape the confines of that house after finding out that your mother wanted a divorce. But then again. you were older now and none of this mattered anymore. Now, it was somewhere to sleep for the next thirty days, and, after that, you knew that you would be evaluating your options.  You left your camera bag by the door but the moment you turned around you caught Cillian's gaze, and you could have sworn that there was something tender hidden deep within the blue recesses of his eyes, like a secret too precious to be shared with the world.

"I'm glad to see that it's still the same," you muttered to yourself, as you placed your other smaller bag onto the bed. 

Cillian chuckled lightly, reminding you that he was still standing there, a few feet behind you.

"I'll let you get settled in now," he said with a warm smile. "Dinner is at seven, if you want to join us. Your mother should be home by six," Cillian added, before walking out of the room, leaving you to your own devices.

"Thank you Cillian," you called after him, letting the moment linger for a second, as a chance to catch your breathe and let your thoughts reel.

The air in the room felt heavy, the scent of old books and dust hung thick against it, like an unwelcome fog. The room was exactly how you remembered it, every piece of furniture, every painting on the walls. It was like going back in time.

"Fuck," you  muttered under your breath, as you pulled back the window curtains, revealing the oak tree that stood tall and strong outside. The view had not changed one bit and this realization was as oddly comforting as it was heartbreaking.

You ran your hand over the windowsill, recalling how you used to sit there for hours on end just watching the world go by in this quaint little town on the outskirts of London. It triggered memories of when you had first noticed your mother changing, and her new job on the set of Peaky Blinders getting the better of her. 

She was one of the production managers, young and enthusiastic, and of course, this is where she met Cillian.

It all went downhill from there, and as they got more and more involved, her behavior changed. 

But you never thought to blame him for the failure of your parents' marriage. Their marriage was doomed for years before and yet, the way she put an end to it, by starting an affair with another man, was what really irked you.

Pushing aside these thoughts of the past, you forced yourself to focus on the present and this presence included staying here, with your part of your broken family, for the next thirty days and you knew that this was going to be tough. 

And tough it was when, over dinner later that day, your mother criticized your life choices.

"You know that none of this would have happened if you had decided to live a normal life," she charged at you between bites of roast chicken and boiled potatoes. "Finishing college, finding a real job, staying out of trouble...," she continued on, and her voice was sharp and condescending.

How many times had you heard her repeat the same things, trying to mold you in her image, trying to give you the role that she had always wanted for herself? You swallowed hard, keeping your composure even as the anger boiled inside you.

"Photography is not a career. It's an art and art doesn't pay the bills," your mother added with disdain. 

"Well, art sure pays your bills, because you did not work for years and still have a roof over your head because your husband clearly earns enough money acting," you replied calmly, taking a sip of your water. You glanced at Cillian, who was sitting quietly, seemingly lost in thought. Sadie, however, was busy coloring with crayons, oblivious to the tension around her.

"That's different," your mother retorted, frowning at you. "Cillian is smart about his work while you, on the other hand, are reckless," she continued on, causing Cillian to sigh heavily. 

 "Marion, enough," he simply said, shaking his head probably taking pity in you and your current situation. "Can't we just enjoy our meal together as a family?" he then asked, and your mother huffed but said nothing more.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, with only Sadie occasionally breaking the awkward atmosphere with her chatter.

After dinner, you offered to help Cillian with the dishes, stacking the rinsed off plates 

by the sink while he loaded them into the dishwasher. As he worked, you couldn't help but notice the way his sleeves were rolled up his arms and his hands moved with ease, his fingers deftly maneuvering the utensils as he placed them in their designated spots in the dishwasher.  He had incredible hands, almost perfect, and whilst this was a small thing, it was also oddly intimate, and you felt the heat creeping up to your cheeks as you watched him.

You shook your head slightly, mentally chastising yourself for reacting in such a way.

Cillian was your stepfather, nothing more, and yet there was no denying the way your heart skipped a beat when his hand brushed against yours as you both reached for the same dish.

He smiled at you as he caught you looking, and your face flushed with heat.

"Thanks for helping me with these," Cillian then said as he closed the dishwasher with a soft click. He wiped his hands on a nearby towel and turned to face you, his eyes finding yours. "And, you know, I'm sorry about the whole house arrest thing. If there's anything I can do to make it easier for you, just let me know."

His words caught you off guard. It had been a long time since anyone had extended their help to you without expecting something in return. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Thank you," you finally managed to say. "But it's fine," you nodded. "Thank you for letting me stay here,"  you added astutely, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

Cillian gave a slight smile, "Of course," he then said before

turning to walk back towards the living room. "I better go keep your mother company," he said, pausing for a moment before adding, "And, I meant what I just said about the house arrest, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask me."

Left alone in the kitchen, you couldn't help but replay that moment over and over again in your mind. You tried to shake it off as just a kind gesture and not something more, but something about the way he looked at you left you questioning yourself, leaving a strange flutter in your chest.

Shaking of these thoughts, you went to your room in order to find something to read or maybe even draw. But of course, your mother had got rid of most of your art supplies when you moved out, claiming that it was all just a waste of money.

Thus, after you got changed into a singlet and some PJ shorts, you made your way back downstairs, recalling a few large shelves stacked with books in the study, which was locate right next to the living room.

Cillian was still sitting with your mother on a comfortable couch but, much to your surprise, there was a large gap between them. He was reading a book while she watched some reality TV show with her uncritical gaze.

When you entered the room, Cillian looked up from his book and his eyes were immediately drawn to you, taking in your form, even though there was nothing particularly sexy about what you were wearing.

He felt the heat grow in his chest, dimming his thoughts and distracting him from the lines of text that he had been attempting to read which, to him, was a strange sensation and not one he had expected. 

Thinking that you had gone unnoticed, you walked into the study and towards one of the large bookshelves before flicking through the spines of the countless novels stacked up haphazardly along the rows.

But then, suddenly, you heard a familiar voice from behind you.

"Can't find anything interesting?" Cillian asked, making you jump and drop the book you had been holding in your hands and, almost simultaneously, you dropped to your knees to pick it up, your heads bumping into each other. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, your hands flying up to your forehead instinctively as you tried to steady the pounding that had started there.

"No, it's my fault," Cillian apologized, his voice close behind you and he put his hand on your shoulder, causing tingles to run down your spine. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said as you turned and looked up at him, your eyes meeting briefly.

"I was trying to find a novel and, god, there are so many to choose from in here," you added, gesturing towards the towering bookshelf that seemed to stretch up towards the high ceiling.

Cillian chuckled, "Well, I do read a lot, but don't worry, I can give you a few recommendations if you want them," he said, a playful twinkle in his eye.

"I would love some recommendations, actually," you said, your face lighting up. "Something about, I don't know, human nature I suppose. I love reading stories about conflicted individuals or history," you said, with a light shrug of your shoulders.

Cillian smiled at your answer, "Did you read the Grass Arena?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity.

You nodded, "Yes, I did. The story was dark but tantalizing," you mentioned, leaving Cillian a little surprised.  "I think it's really good book," you smiled, causing Cillian to furrow his eyebrows.

 "A really good book huh?" he echoed, a gentle laugh escaping his lips. "It's one of the best, I think. John Healy's work should be regarded as an invaluable contribution to literature," he declared, and you couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, momentarily getting lost in his bright blue eyes.

"Okay, I agree. It's probably in my top ten," you whispered, before shaking yourself out of your trance-like state, adding, "So, any other recommendations then?"

Cillian nodded, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he guided you towards a different bookshelf.

"I think you might like this one," he said as he pulled out a tattered copy of 'On the Road' by Jack Kerouac, the pages yellowed with age. "I know it's a classic, but it's always a good read and you love travelling, so if you haven't read it yet, you should," he added, his voice full of warmth.

You took the book from him gratefully while inadvertently brushing against his hand. Your palms grew warm and tingly, causing you to look up at him with wide eyes. Cillian's eyes locked with yours and there was a charge between you, a current thrumming beneath the surface that tickled your skin.

"Uhm, thank you ," you mumbled, sliding the book from his grip and stepping back. He nodded, seeming to understand the sudden need for space.

"Sure thing," he said, before turning to head back to the living room. "Goodnight, Y/N," he told you and you nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart before tucking the book under your arm and heading to your bedroom.

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[pooks]

part 3 of "straw hat Ichiji"

Fullbody and Gin

we've gotten to the events of the Baratie Arc in the East Blue Saga

Ichiji is fucking pissed that someone has shot a cannon ball at the restaurant. because it means repairs and it costs Berry. he's really irriated and snaps at everyone who isn't a customer. it doesn't help that "incident" could've killed Zeff

the day gets worse when a Marine Lieutenant, Fullbody, insults the food and causes a mess. then he hears his little brother beating up the sucker. while the cooks are restraining their sous chef, Ichiji simply adds a quarter Berry to a glass jar in the kitchen and walks to a sign that says "Days Sanji Hasn't Beaten Up An Ungrateful Asshole Customer". he changes the number 21 to a 0. then Ichiji calls for Zeff to handle the situation.

Ichiji doesn't have a particularly flattering image of Marines. he despise them in fact and he doesn't believe there's a thing like "a good marine". for him, every marine is the same. "egocentrical, power-hungry and very entitled bastards" but as a waiter of the Baratie and an emergency cook (it's needed when they're short-staffed), he knows he can't treat a customer differently. he usually vents in his private journal.

while Zeff effectively stops Sanji from killing Fullbody (which Ichiji mutters that no one would've missed the asshole), Ichiji puts on his work persona and reassures their guests, telling them to not be alarmed and continue enjoying their meals, with some unexpected brawls as dining entertainment. this brings some laughter from the customers.

after Fullbody leaves and Gin, an escaped prisoner from Fullbody's marine ship, enters the restaurant and is starving. Ichiji does his usual duties as a waiter and shows Gin to a table, but he's then taken hostage by Gin with a gun pointing at his temple. Ichiji doesn't move and is surprisingly calm about this while the chefs nearly worries for their waiter's safety.

all Ichiji does is to sigh heavily and say that Patty will sort everything out once he comes in. which is exactly what happens. Ichiji takes his chance while Gin being distracted by Patty. he kicks backwards right into the...family jewels and easily escapes his "hostage situation". Ichiji then says that he could've done that the whole time, but he rather not risk customers' lives.

Sanji feeds a starving Gin outside the restaurant, who comments it's the best food he's ever eaten. this makes Sanji really happy and Luffy meets Sanji, deadset on making him his cook.

Ichiji knows what Sanji is doing, but he says nothing and silently agrees with Sanji's actions. his experience of starving on a rock taught him a harsh lesson when it comes to food.

meeting the Straw Hats

Sanji refuses to join Luffy's crew and tells about Zeff's background as a pirate, how the Baratie is Zeff's treasure and all the chefs are pirate-types. all waiters couldn't deal with the fighting and left, leaving his older brother Ichiji as the only waiter taking on the burden. Sanji has nothing but fond adoration for his brother and tells Luffy that there is no one wiser or better storyteller than his "other half" Ichiji.

after waving off Gin, Luffy and Sanji re-enters the Baratie. Ichiji greets them by nagging at Sanji that their sous chef is needed and he has no time "fooling around" when there's at least 20 customers needs to be fed. Sanji dives instantly to work, but not without insulting Ichiji for being a "stuck up know-it-all".

Luffy breaks several dishes while being the "chore boy" (as debt for accidently shooting the cannon ball at the restaurant) and Patty demands that he pass up the guests instead. he's angry at seeing his crew relaxing in the restaurant while he's working. this catches Sanji's attention and he instantly swoons over Nami.

Ichiji gets really pissed because he was doing his waiter duties and taking orders from the straw hats when Sanji butts in and gives "special treatment" to Nami. Sanji yells that a lady needs proper care and Ichiji isn't doing it right. Ichiji's patience runs dry and he shouts an iconoic like

"A customer is a customer, Sanji! I don't give a rat's ass about their gender!"

(and this gets a little approval from Zoro in the background)

Sanji answers by ignoring Ichiji, which irks at him a lot, and he dotes on Nami, proclaiming his love to her and laments the "obstacles" between them. then Zeff appears and says that Sanji is free to become a pirate if he wants, he's not needed at the Baratie. Sanji is visibly annoyed while Ichiji barks a "HAH!" at his misery.

Zeff turns to Ichiji and says that he either shut up and work or he can go swimming with the sharks. Sanji starts a fight with him and says that he will work at the Baratie until Zeff dies and Zeff retorts that he'll live for another hundred years then.

afterwards, Ichiji is still annoyed that Sanji "serves" the straw hats, but favors Nami. Usopp calls out on this special treatment, which Ichiji tells him to just ignore his foolish brother and takes their orders instead, recommending options as the daily soup, fish dish or the head chef's speciality.

Nami realizes her advantage and plays up for a free meal. Ichiji mutters that they're fortunate that Sanji won't be in charge of the Baratie or they'll go bankrupt. both Zoro and Usopp snorts at this, finding Ichiji more likeable.

two days later, Don Krieg arrives with his remaining armada and begs for food, seemingly weak. Patty suggest to call the marines, something Ichiji is against and the latter claims that they don't need prissy marines for this matter.

Sanji, however, returns with some food despite Carne's warnings about Don Krieg, determined to feed anyone who's hungry. Ichiji briefly nods in approval...until Krieg strikes down his baby brother and claims he wants the ship for himself.

Straw Hats & Baratie vs. Don Krieg

the civilian guests has fled in fear as Krieg wants the Baratie ship for his own, claiming that his own is messed up. Ichiji doesn't believe him, as he's good at spotting liars.

the conflict and battle against the Don Krieg pirates happens as in canon, with added fighting and interractions from Ichiji, who's determined to defend the Baratie.

it's also revealed in his inner monologues that he knew all along that Zeff couldn't be a pirate anymore after sacrificing his leg and that he's the only one, except for the author himself, who knows where Zeff's log. Ichiji only reveals that he knows where it is, but he will never tell because he rather bring the secret to Davy Jones' locker.

this infuriates Don Krieg, who beats up Ichiji nearly senseless for his insolence. however, Ichiji claims that Krieg's beating is nothing compared to "a monster" he once knew and calls Krieg for a weak slug.

Ichiji watches Zoro challenging Mihawk to a duel, which Sanji calls madness. Ichiji, however, has a newfound respect for Zoro who acts on his dream and is willing to die for it. he muses out loud that he wishes that he had Zoro's courage and resolve to go for his dream, compared to him who still feel indebted to Zeff. he also mumbles about how he's still chained to his fate while Sanji is free to do whatever he wants. Sanji overhears him and feels guilty.

Zoro loses however and vows to never lose again before losing consciousness. Ichiji is quick to jump down to deck and help out with his injuries. after that, Luffy stays at the Baratie while he sends Zoro and Usopp to go after Nami (who has left them on the Merry, seemingly betraying them).

Luffy wins against Don Krieg and settles his debt to the Baratie, which has become a battlefield during the fight against the Krieg pirates.

leaving the Baratie and joining the Straw Hats

as they're recovering from the battle, everyone claims that Sanji's soup is revolting and bad, even Ichiji. as Sanji stomps off in seething anger, Luffy asks what they're talking about and Sanji's soup is amazing. it's revealed that Zeff, Ichiji and the chefs wants Sanji to leave and seek out his dream, the All Blue.

Ichiji is conflicted, though. he wants his little brother to go and head to the Grand Line for his dream, but he also yearns for the Grand Line. similarly to his previous feelings at Germa, Ichiji feels a mild resentment that Sanji is, once again, free to do whatever he wants while he must stay and continue his "duty" as the eldest son.

Luffy speaks with him outside the restaurant and asks him what he will do if Sanji goes with him. Ichiji responds that he will continue work until he dies, to repay the life debt he owe Zeff. he talks about Sanji being free as a bird, but Ichiji feels chained to his duties, since he's the eldest brother and he needs to step up, be the responsible one. he's the one who make sure everything runs smoothly and he speaks briefly about enduring "six months of absolute hell" for Sanji's sake.

Luffy doesn't take this well and delivers a punch to Ichiji. the latter is furious until Luffy says "tell me what you want to do, not what you should do!"

Ichiji is shaken and is instantly reminded of his mother, who once asked the same words when he was little. we get another iconic Ichiji moment, this time between him and Luffy

"...I wish to travel to the Grand Line and write a book about it. Everyone knows about the late Pirate King and how great he was, but almost no one knows about Gold Roger's adventures in the Grand Line, in details. There is no logs or book, even a journal about them. I want to write a book about the next Pirate King and about their adventures, all of them, and make damn sure these stories become archived. Everyone would know the tales of the next Pirate King."

upon hearing about Ichiji's dream of being a pirate author and archivist, Luffy only grins and says "well, someone has to tell about my adventures one day! how about you join my crew and become our archivist?"

Ichiji widens his eyes in surprise, unsure if he should take the offer or not. he glances behind him to the Baratie and thinks about Zeff, about how the former pirate has done so much for him and Sanji. Ichiji is starts to thank him for the offer, but he doesn't get to decline before he's interrupted. all the chefs from the Baratie yells that if he doesn't take it, Ichiji is a hypocrite and threats to feed him to the sharks.

Ichiji shares an emotional moment with Zeff, who has heard everything and tells him that he isn't bound by duty and never was. Ichiji struggles to keep his emotions in check, being a stoic person, but he's trembling with unshed tears. Zeff reminds him that Ichiji also deserve to have dreams and act on them.

this makes Ichiji cry and he embraces Zeff, thanking him for everything and vows to look after his little brother if Sanji comes with them. Zeff reponds with a "look after yourself, for a change. you can't help the eggplant if you keep trying to sacrifice your life for him."

a little important here, but Zeff calls Ichiji for "radish", similar to how he calls Sanji "eggplant"

the whole exchange is overheard by Sanji, who changes his mind and decides to join Luffy's crew as a cook.

Ichiji has already boarded the boat with his things when Sanji comes with his luggage, joining them. since he already had his emotional farewell moment with Zeff,

Sanji has his big, emotional farewell moment with Zeff and bows in respect. Ichiji is fast to follow his example, although he bows in a more traditional and elegant way.

both Ichiji and Sanji waves goodbye to Zeff, the chefs and the Baratie onboard the ship with Luffy. Sanji is still crying and Ichiji sheds some tears, both brothers are eternally thankful for the man who gave them everything and raised them to the men they've become.

Sanji breaks down a little about leaving his home, which prompts Ichiji to move forward to hug him. Luffy is very happy about having a cook and an archivist on his crew. they're now setting course to find Nami and rejoin the rest of their crew.

(end. part 3)

(read part 1 and part 2 here)

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Axel Hughes

The Life of Axel Hughes and her best friend Freya Hischer

The mixed au I'm doing with the wonderful, @toasttt11 !

Axel Luquinn Hughes was born to Jack Hughes and now ex partner Julia Callahan on September 14 2021. 

Jack and Julia were very early in the stages of dating when Julia fell pregnant with Axel. Julia wanted nothing to do with Axel as she saw her as the reason her life was ruined. 

Axel spent the first 13 years of her life being tormented by her mothers presence and her cruel, snide and plain awful remarks. Julia stalked Jack and Axel, online, and in real life through tracking their locations on social media. This was put to a stop when Jack had filed for a restraining order when Axel was thirteen. 

Axel was born in Newark, New Jersey.

Jack chose the name Axel because from the first time he saw his daughter, he knew she needed a name that would be different. Axel was chosen because Jack described her birth as the day he felt his world get tipped on its axis. Luquinn in honor of his younger and older brothers and Axel obviously took her fathers last name. 

Axel lives in Jack and Luke’s shared apartment, which means that they also live in the same building as Nico Hischier and his daughter Freya. 

Freya and Axel have been friends before they could talk. They are born six months apart, Freya being the older one. They go to each other with everything.

Jack learnt the art of being a single parent from Nico, he was taught how to change diapers, braid hair even though both girls didn’t have enough hair yet. 

Axel wasn’t a needy baby, but for a long time, it was her way or the highway. Jack called Ellen within the first six months of Axel’s life saying to his mother, “Some small country is missing it’s dictator, and she’s living at my house.”

Jack never thought of getting a tattoo before Axel was born but on his left index finger he has ink that says 14/8/21 with a small gear wheel next to it. This is the finger Axel grabbed when he first held her.

Nico is Axel’s Godfather

Axel absolutely despises shopping, unlike her father. However, Nico’s daughter Freya, loves it just as much. So while Jack and Freya walk around shopping malls together gossiping about how different brands are better than others, Axel and her Godfather Nico sulk along behind betting how long they will be in each store.

Axel’s favorite pastime is to bully (playfully) her uncle Luke. Since forever, whenever Freya is around both her, and Axel gang up on Luke. 

Axel is very outgoing and has a big personality, but after certain issues with her ex-friends it has developed some trust issues and anxiety. One Christmas when she was 2 years old her grandparents Ellen and Jim were in town. They gave her a green weighted snake that she uses when she's older to help quell the panic attacks.

Axel’s first word wasn’t Dad it was actually reya. Because she couldn’t pronounce her F’s.

Whenever Quinn is in town Axel is always stuck to his side. She her own customized Canucks Jersey with her hockey number because when she was little she insisted on being on the ice with her Uncle ‘Winny’

Axel loves storms and rain, she makes her Dad run in the rain and jump in puddles when it does.

Axel of course has been playing hockey as soon as she could stand on skates and has always loved it. When she gets anxious she goes out onto the rink and just sits on the ice until her backside is numb.

[pbandjesse]

I am just now leaving the museum. Not that it's late. But I feel like I've been here all day. Between the Farmers market and this event. Just another Saturday

I'm trying to remain positive. It is hard. I am also struggling because honestly I'd still haven't processed Tucker. It's like every time I think about it I'm like well that didn't work but we can fix him It could still fixable. But it's not. There's nothing to fix. And so my brain is not computing that I'm never going to see him again. And I don't know why. I have always been pretty death positive and understanding of the cycles that life goes through without it being horrible. But for some reason I'm really struggling to conceptualize this. I don't know what we'll do it but I'm sure I will fall apart at some point.

But for now I try to be strong for James and be there for them as much as I can. And just try to remember good things.

I had a lot of dreams last night. And I woke up not terribly well rested. I got up though and got dressed and I felt okay. I put extra conditioner in my hair because it was so dry yesterday and frizzy from the humidity and the wind at the market was not going to do it any favors.

But we got baby and the car and we headed to the museum. We had to go a little early because a guest rifled through the print shop and apparently made a mess and that had to be dealt with.

So we went a little early and then James help me set up and me and Sylvia hung out outside.

I tried to have a good time. I have focused on my embroidery and Sylvia. I walked her around and let her smell things like bread and coffee beans. And it was very pretty out. But oh my lord was it windy.

The wind was the worst part of the day at first. Things were getting knocked over. My stuff and other people's stuff. My business card holder broke again. And the string lights got torn down and the sides were coming out of their tracks. And it was just exhausting. I find the wind exhausting.

But Sylvia was happy. The wind was bouncing her chair and she was very cozy. After she had her bottle she slept for a little bit. It did take us all walking her around for a bit to get her to actually close her eyes. But everyone loves holding her so it's fine.

I got a breakfast sandwich and a cream cheese bar. Which I really think is just butter cake. But it is very good. And James was running around helping where they could and getting things set up. We only had 13 vendors today, compared to our full 25, compared to our normal 21. So it was definitely a quieter day at the market.

And honestly in the end those people were lucky not to be there. There were not a lot of customers. I did make $70 so I can start paying just back for the class we're taking tomorrow. But it was slow. At some points there were no customers at all. So that's a little disheartening but we try our best to remain positive.

Meredith, my new mom friend, let me know that she and her baby Max were going to come say hi. They live close by so I was like oh my God yes come say hi and it was very nice to see her and we were chatting for a little bit and I let her know that it was supposed to storm between 1:00 and 2:00 and she might want to start walking back so that she doesn't get stuck in it. And literally as I am finishing that sentence with the sky opened up.

It started pouring so hard. It was terrifying. It was heavy rain and wind and the flaps on the side of the pavilion were getting thrown around and the rain was coming in sideways. And our poor vendors that are in the parking lot had taken their tents down about an hour before because of the wind. So then they were uncovered and they were getting drenched trying to protect their stuff. And then as they were running for cover and trying to get their fragile items out of the storm it started to hail!

I'm under the pavilion desperately pulling my stuff and putting them in boxes and then I'm throwing my body over the sleeping baby because she's in her little bounce there and we had a window break last week and I was afraid that broken glass was going to be coming flying from the ceiling.

But thankfully it calmed down after about 15 minutes. It was a very scary 15 minutes. It was very loud and it felt like it was never going to stop.

But while the crazy part of the storm went away it was still raining. And Stanley would help me bring my stuff to the car and load everything in before I got baby. And then me and Sylvia said goodbye to everyone and we went inside the museum to sit with James for a few minutes before we went home.

And I was very tired and I was excited to go home and just be chill for a few hours before I had to come back for work.

It did take us a while to get home though. After we said goodbye to James and got hugs I started driving home the normal way but I forgot that there was the Harry Krishna festival happening over in the inner harbor and I was leaving right as their parade was happening. Which was fascinating to see but I was stuck in traffic for like 25 minutes. Not ideal.

But by the time I got home it had stopped raining. I got Sylvia inside and put her in her chair. I turned the oven on so I can make lunch and one Sylvia had fallen asleep I went back to the car to get all of my market stuff in. And once I did that I just was enjoying being home.

I think being out at the market makes our baby exhausted. Because she doesn't sleep a lot while we're there, like she naps, but mostly she's just sitting and staring and smiling and bouncing. And so when we got home she slept for 2:00 and I had to wake her up to give her her bottle at 4:15 because she didn't wake up at 4:00.

But while she was sleeping on her mat on the floor I worked on my embroidery, I played on my phone, I watched videos, I put away stuff and ran the vacuum. And I fixed my business card holder and just tried to have fun and be calm.

Would have to leave around 5:00 but I was able to be home long enough to cross past with James. We couldn't leave baby alone obviously. I was still feeding her when James came home and I was just really happy to see them.

I passed baby over and I got myself ready to go. We sat together on the couch for a few minutes but soon I was out the door.

And honestly I have an excellent evening. The couple was Jewish on one side and Chinese on the other. And they had so many beautiful ceremony stuff. Apparently keeping two sculptures of mallards is good luck for a married couple. I don't know if one needs to be a boy Mallard and one needs to be a girl mower because both of them in the statue I saw seem to be boy Mallards but rareless it was adorable. And I was just in the cannery tonight but I don't remember the last time I had that many guests at a wedding come back to hear my speeches. Like I gave my fire talk like five or six times. And it was great. I was having a blast.

Honestly I have thought in the past that I was like taking too much caffeine in with the way I sometimes get wired giving my speeches at weddings and events. But I didn't have any caffeine except for just like a soda tonight and I was like fussing around like a crazy person having a great time and making jokes and talking about history. And it was wonderful. I was having a great night.

What's the guests headed to dinner I sat at the front desk and talked to Jules and worked on my embroidery. And I was just having fun. It was just a good night.

But it was just an educator shift so now I'm on my way home. I hope the rest of the wedding goes well and the jewels has a good time. We are very similar in so many ways. Including both having an upper arm Alexander Calder inspired tattoo. I just cannot get over how funny that is.

When I get home I'm going to wash my hair and I'm going to give James a hug and then we'll probably go to sleep. Tomorrow I'm going to drive up to Philly to see Jess and take our second stained glass class. I'm very excited and I hope that I take my time doing the foiling this time so that it looks better. It's not a race. I have multiple hours to work on this I don't have to beat anyone else.

I hope you all have a great night tonight. I hope that you are safe and warm wherever you are. Good night.

[amavaria]

This might not be as easy to answer at this point in your career, but i won’t know until i ask.

From the time you were drawing to learn and maybe experiment, to current day, when you’ve gathered enough of a following that you can take on drawing as an avenue for making paid work, how have you balanced creation of both original content of your own as well as fan-art, outside of commission work? And how did you approach the balance of drawing what you want and drawing stuff that would probably gather more interest?

I’ve wrestled with both my want to actually draw stuff that i genuinely want to, while at the same time tailoring it in a manner that attempts to appeal to some kind of audience, over the last… 5 years? The latter criteria has been VERY tricky (and frustrating) for me, to the point that in hindsight, i definitely overworked myself over it, and i’ve felt averse to just admitting to myself that content that is TOO original/ personalized being almost all of my output, is probably going to keep me stuck where i am, no matter what.

Hiii, I'll answer this in sections to make it easier so here we go!

How to balance working on commissions Vs personal work and fanart?

The key here is to treat commissions like any regular job (Like an office job but without annoying coworkers!) I work monday-friday and maintain a schedule and set deadlines to follow.

Some people don't work well under pressure but in my case it pushes me to take action. Knowing I promised a client progress or a finished work by a certain date gets me going no matter how burned out I'm feeling. Also keeping a public queue helps this as well as it motivates me to visible update everyone on what I'm doing.

Discipline is very needed, not because you're your own boss means it's easier. People are paying you their hard earned money and it's your responsibility to deliver quality work for them in the promised time.

It's not just drawing, it's social media management, self promoting, bank account checks, regular updates and keeping a good streak of happy customer to spread the word for you!

I draw personal work on my free time on weekends. And sometimes in between when I get particularly itchy about an idea. But I always prioritise commission and I will always make sure to have at least reached my daily goal of work before I start goofing around drawing blorbo art.

It's taken years of adulting, to finally find a rhythm I'm comfortable with, where I can work and still keep my fandom self well fed. So do not despair, I felt helpless at 21 trying to sell a $5 commission but now I'm making $100+ with one single purchase!

TLDR: Treat commissions like a job separate of your hobby. Take weekends free, use your time responsibly 👍👍

How to build an audience

I don't know lol. It sort of happened to me. My main target was always furries (I am a furry) On my first 3 years of 'career' I never reached over 400 followers on my most popular social media, but my income was steady since a random streamer decided that I'd be her artist for everything, so I was able to survive more or less.

On the side I was working on my own OCs which I was lucky enough for randos to find appealing enough to warrant a follow! (Alois here getting pretty popular).

Parted ways with the streamer after hoarding me for 2 years and started drawing fanart which brought followers to me in waves. I'd get into a super obscure fandom (Solatorobo for example) draw a ton of stuff for it, bringing a wave of new followers thirsty of content and then stay because they like furries too.

And rinse and repeat and I got hundreds of people perceiving me (thank you) and even more people eager to commission me (thank you harder)

Important to note: People on different socials have different interests. Example: Twitter has been very friendly with original content but flops certain fanarts. Tumblr hypes up fan content a lot more enthusiastically but original content doesn't get very far.

TLDR: mostly takes good rng, but having a loud social media presence and a steady amount of new content to keep interest is a step on the right direction.

Last... What about burnout and frustration? What do you do?

TAKE A BREAK! TOUCH GRASS, separate yourself from the screen and breathe a moment. Then you come back and join Artfight.

Artfight is freedom! It's a chance to freely experiment with any character that catches your eye. You can try things that you wouldn't do during commissions, a different brush, different layer modes, angles, poses, etc. AND put enough effort on it that would make the receiver very happy 💖 and by posting this experimental work on socials, it got a lot of attention. Most did really great, a few flopped too, but it was overall extremely positive.

Without noticing, you find new paths, new techniques, you realize you can draw better and faster, and when you come back to work when the month is over, it shows!

TLDR: Take a break, then experiment!! You'll improve and find your path. This works different for everyone, but I'm sharing what has helped me.

[hisaacswrites]

Bake Room in Your Heart for Me? Chapter 1

【 Fandom: Call of Duty 【 Main Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish 【 Rating: M for Mature 【 Trigger Warnings: -

Summary:

When Simon first interviewed for The Great British Baking Show, he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. He certainly didn't expect to win. Despite the chaos it brought to his life, he couldn't really complain. It landed him the best job he could ask for and a close circle of friends who actually seemed to enjoy his company. It also led him to his biggest fan, one John MacTavish, who's determined to win him over one baked good at a time.---Or, The baking AU that no one asked for.

Chapter 1 ⦿ 【 Chapter 2 →

☆ Read on AO3

【 Chapter Specific Warnings: - 【 Notes: It's been literal years since I've written anything but this fandom has me by the throat. Do I have a 21 chapter Ghoap fic outlined? Yes. Did I choose to start something completely different instead of working on that? Also yes. Flying by the seat of my pants on this one; don't have anything outlined or otherwise planned as of now! Don't think this will be too terribly long though. Maybe 10 chapters max? We'll see. Tags will probably be added to as things progress!

Bake Room in Your Heart for Me? Masterlist ⦿ CoD Library ⦿ Hayden Isaacs Library

🍰 Chapter 1

When Simon first interviewed for The Great British Baking Show, he hadn’t expected anything to come of it.

He had started baking after getting medically discharged from the military, a catastrophic mission causing irreparable nerve damage in his arm. His first few months of living as a civilian were difficult and Simon had struggled to acclimate. The army had been his sole purpose since he enlisted at 18 and after nearly two decades of service, he was left adrift. It was his therapist that recommended baking. He had fond memories of his mother’s baking, one of the few highlights of his childhood, so it would be a great way to "reconnect with himself, " or whatever that meant. It was also something to keep his mind and hands busy; baking required its own sort of discipline that soothed the soldier in him. His physical therapist also approved, saying that the physical labor of it all would be great for his recovery.

Regardless of the reasoning, Simon quickly found that he actually enjoyed baking. He had started with simple things from some of his mother’s old recipe books he had saved after she passed, gaining confidence until he began trying to recreate her homemade recipes from his childhood. He found himself with a surplus of baked goods and there was no way he’d be able to eat it all, so Simon just… gave them away. To his neighbors, to the postman , to his local soup kitchen, and even to his old captain, John Price, who had retired a few years before him and insisted on visiting monthly.

When Price had almost waxed poetic about his fruit tarts (Price loved strawberries and Simon thought that the lemon curd would be suitably refreshing for the hot summer day, he wasn't trying to show off , okay — ) Simon had felt his face flush in embarrassment and he had shoved a freshly baked custard cream biscuit into Price's mouth to shut him up. He wasn't surprised when Price demanded he bake something for not just their visits, but also for him to take back home and "tide him over" until his next visit. Never mind the fact that Price owned his own cafe and had access to his own baked goods ("Stop being modest, Simon! Your biscuits blast Shepherd's out of the water, I can't believe I had to keep him on when I bought the place, he's so stuck in his ways, you know, and he's costing me customers! I can't wait until his contract is up and I can actually hire a real baker and not some crusty-").

Price had always been kind to him, though, ever since they met when Simon was 20 and freshly traumatized from a failed op in Mexico, so he paid little mind to the extravagant compliments. He laughed when Price kept offering him Shepherd's head baker position at Cafe 141, knowing that Price was just teasing him. And he snorted when Price had suggested he apply to The Great British Baking Show, appreciating that Price was just trying to increase his confidence in his baking.

Apparently, Price had been serious and wasn't just trying to make him feel better.

When Simon had gotten an email about scheduling a phone interview, Price had confessed to filling out the online questionnaire application in Simon's name. Simon had gone through with the phone interview, assuming that his blunt and gruff responses would eliminate him from the pool of possible contestants. When he was contacted again to schedule an off-camera series of bakes to judge his knowledge, he assumed that it would become clear he was an absolute novice and therefore not a good contender. When he made it to the next round and was asked to do a screen test, he figured that his awkwardness would only be amplified on camera and that would be the end of that. He did not expect to hear that his awkwardness came off as endearing, of all things, and that he just had to pass a psychological screening. Simon knew that would be the end of it all — he was many things, but psychologically sound was not one of them. It seemed like his military service had prepared him a bit too well, though, as he was deemed more than capable to handle the stress of the show.

Simon had been with Price when he received confirmation that he'd b the end of th that would bee on the show. He had frozen in shock while Price had whooped and hollered, clapping him strongly on the back and declaring to the patrons of it all — he was many things, but psychologically sound was not othe next winner of sThe Great British Baking Show.

Simon expected to be kicked off the first week of the show. He didn't expect to stay, week after week. He didn't expect to win Star Baker three times. He didn't expect to become one of the fan favorites. He didn't expect to make it to the final, facing off against a pretentious expat Texan named Graves and a selectively mute but insanely skilled man named Gary. He certainly didn't expect to win .

Over the course of a year, he went from a ghost of a man whose contributions to society were lost to a blacked-out file, a no-one in a black medical mask, to a much-beloved television personality whose face almost everyone knew. The change was overwhelming.

He couldn't even pick up his groceries in peace. Simon was one more "Can we please get a photograph with you?" away from packing up his flat and hiding away in the countryside for the rest of his days as a baking hermit when Price had approached him once more. Simon nearly slammed the door in his face when he arrived at his home, blaming Price for his entire predicament and unwilling to be dragged into any more shenanigans. Instead, he was offered a job. Again.

Price had finally been able to get rid of Shepherd and was looking to hire a new baker for Cafe 141. Who better than one of his favorite soldiers, a great friend, and the year's winner of The Great British Baking Show? Simon was dubious about the offer but Price ran a hard bargain; Simon would be the head baker and therefore could boss around the two underlings to his heart's content , he could bake whatever he wanted as long as the cases were stocked, and he didn't have to interact with any customers. He could stay in the back and bake in blissful (somewhat) solitude while still being able to work on new recipes and bring home a decent paycheck.

So that's how Simon "Ghost" Riley found himself joining Price's motley crew of veterans at Cafe 141. And that's where he met his biggest fan, one John MacTavish.

[followthecyborg]

On Being 25

This post is long and has also been a long time coming.

I've been running this blog since August of 2017, in the midst of an eating disorder and an abusive relationship. I was a pop punk kid looking for community. Over the next few years I fell into pseudointellectualism; I cosplayed the prestigious scholar who lived for November days and moldy book pages. I loved ancient Greek and ancient Rome and dramatic, bloody imagery. I had a few hit posts (they reached 1k notes) and I thought I found a community.

In 2021, my life took a huge turn. I was about to graduate with my bachelor's degree, my professors wanted me to enroll in a creative writing program, and I should have been happy. But I wasn't—I was stuck at home with my conservative mother who drove me up the wall with her conspiracy theories. My friends both in real life and online were distant, and I was at my loneliest. I was burnout and insignificant, and I became very, very close to k-lling myself one day. The details don't matter. All that matters is that I didn't do it, and with what I became after, there were people who thought I should have done it. This was also around the time I came to terms with the fact that I'm autistic.

Over the next several months I would abandon this blog and become a born again Christian. I also adopted my mother's conservative beliefs because I needed something to grasp. Later I would learn I was most likely going through a spiritual psychosis/personality change because of my almost-attempt. I returned to tumblr and continued posting with an adjacent, modern aesthetic, but I also brought my newfound conservative ideas. This is something that I'm still very ashamed of, because it affected people in my life who I once cherished as being my closest friends. My isolation from others permanently destroyed my friendships and how people who trusted me saw me.

I fell down another rabbithole of t3rfism around this time. In hindsight, it was most likely because of the conservatism (which I was no longer part of), the fact that I had zero female friends, and my only "friend" was a douchebag guy who only wanted to sleep with me. I never identified as a t3rf, but I did join them in questioning certain aspects of society. It was so obvious that one of my previous friends called me out on it when I tried contacting them to reconnect at the end of 2022.

I'm not writing all of this to receive pity. I'm writing this because I feel the need to atone for my past actions. I've apologized to the people who needed apologies.

I lost a lot of my traction when I returned to tumblr. I wasn't posting consistently, so I became yet another up-and-coming tumblr user who was pushed to the shadows. I see some of my mutuals and wonder what would have happened if I kept up with the academic façade and posted shitty poetry. Could I have crowdfunded a grad degree, or had readers for my poetry book?

All this is to say that I wasn't the same when I came back to tumblr. Engagement on my original postings are now zero. This blog just doesn't feel like "me", and it hasn't since 2021.

I've outgrown this blog.

My degree hasn't gotten me far. I'm not in grad school studying art history like I wanted to when I was 21. I'm not a published writer like my English professors encouraged me to be. The aesthetics of this blog are a sham and in no way reflect reality. The reality behind this tumblr user is that I'm a 25 year old woman who works customer service and who still can't afford to move out. I dropped out of grad school after like 2 weeks because it sucked. I work full time, so I can't afford to study forgotten religions or 9th century theater or whatever the fuck the posters from the 'golden era' are doing off their parents' dime.

I've been developing my interests organically without people on the internet swaying my opinions. I'm not trying my hardest to live up to a certain aesthetic and making myself miserable in the process. I reached an age that the original creator of this blog in 2017 thought she'd never see. I feel better about picking up the pieces of my life now that I'm not using 25 as my deadline.

I'm not done with tumblr forever. I may remake my blog one day—a blog that isn't a time capsule of some of my worst developmental years. For now this is goodbye.

[hrtsmom]

5/23 Friday 10:26 AM

I was just thinking. If that “ghost writer” guy does actually get in touch with me, maybe I should tell him I’ll write his book for $10,000. Then I could get my comic done! I’m just glad my card doesn’t actually have an address where he can contact me directly. Otherwise I’d be unable to escape.

I had one actual customer yesterday. One. And I almost forgot to give her the giveaway ticket. And then she didn’t show up for the “drawing” anyway. This may be a long weekend. But at least I already finished one of the Librarians books. I will most likely finish the other before Sunday.

And I can sneak peeks at Matt Frewer even though I can’t get an autograph. His table is across the front aisle and perpendicular to mine. I could go over and talk to him, since there isn’t an actual line. But without the excuse of the DVD to sign, I don’t know what I’d say. Best not to, I think. Technically I could probably sneak a picture, but that feels creepy.

So I figured it all up, and Thel and Jann are separated for approximately a month, allowing for a couple of places where Jann isn’t sure or doesn’t specify how many days are passing. That’s a long time left unaccounted for from Thel’s perspective. I don’t know that I want to cover all of it in the next book. And I’m still no closer to figuring out where the story’s going to go after the rescue. sigh. There is some good stuff in those other two books, though, if I do say so myself. Not all of it, but enough of it.

Oh, I found out the real story behind Debi being banned. Apparently it happened at Fargo Anime. They had their tables set up, Will went off to get something to drink, and when he came back Debi was in the middle of an argument with the venodr coordinator. That resulted in them being entirely banned from both that con and CoreCon for the year. They’re going to do Valleycon instead; apparently it’s been taken over by new management. I looked them up out of curiosity last night. They already have a waitlist for vendors, plus there was no indication of how much it would cost. enh, maybe next year.

11:47 AM

Feeling less cold-ish today, but I didn’t get enough sleep last night as usual. Woke up around 3:30, got back from the bathroom, and couldn’t get back to sleep for at least half an hour. And I already had my alarm set for 5:30 because I had to shower this morning. When I did finally get back to sleep I had one of my bedroom-invasion dreams, within another dream, from which I woke up with my heart pounding. Then I think I got a little more sleep before my alarm went off. I swiped one of Christian’s Monster drinks for my lunch bag today; I have a feeling I’m going to need it later.

Still waiting to see somebody I know by name rather than just by face.

Well at least if nobody buys anything, I won’t have to give anything away.

Copper Carnival bracelet $21

1:13 PM

Gee, only $60 to go til I break even.

I hate when my bread goes hard in the cooler. I just about lose my appetite for it completely.

And I forgot my Oreos. sigh.

I just spotted Greg and Karl, but they’re working their way around from the other side of the room, so.

1 copy S&B $6

Fancy Gentleman pendant 6.50

3:15 PM

Just saw Terri Pray’s beleaguered husband unit and one of her offspring units wander through. No sight nor sound of her though. Maybe they’re only attending this year. Why do I care?

Hmm. Ultra Peachy Keen Monster has kind of a yech aftertaste. I wonder if that’s the L-carnitine or the taurine?

Oh crud, it has sucralose. That explains it. Well, I’m stuck with it, because the rest of my bottled water is still frozen.

clock charm 6.50

1 copy TDR Chains 6.00

2 small stickers 1.00

6:00 PM

The water’s thawed enough to drink some now, but still cold enough that it gave me brain freeze just now. Nauseating brain freeze at that. ugh.

And it’s 6:58 PM. Will anyone show up for the drawing tonight?

Now it’s after 7:00. I hereby declare that the first two people to show up here with a ticket will win.

owl earrings $12

[rhiannon12]

The Suitor Complex by Blorbsk (Rhiannon12)

Here's a little tidbit of a story I thought up around January 2024. It follows a girl being forced into the role as a landlord after her uncle mysteriously dies. The apartment shes in charge of has 11 floors, 10 of them each have around 20 rooms each (aside from the lobby) and hosts different fantasy and/or fanfic-esc characters ranging from vampires to billionaires/Mafia men. I'll be working on it over on Wattpad for anyone wanting to read more. :)

BASE OF STORY:

-Old landlord dies and in their will the apartment complex goes to their niece

-Niece’s name is Willow

-Old landlord’s name is Reginald

-The niece used to work as a customer service agent

-Willow doesn’t have any information about the complex so she goes in blind

-Apartment complex holds a large variety of mythical creatures and humans alike

-Each room is like a small portion of a world

-Each floor is like a different world/dimension

FLOOR LEVEL INFO:

-Lobby (normal, Willow has a room on this level in the back to stay in)

-Floor 1 (above lobby): Forest creatures

(1-20)

-Floor 2: The Fey

(21-40)

-Floor 3: Vampires

(41-60)

-Floor 4: Mermaids/Half-fish people

(61-80)

-Floor 5: Any mystical sea creature

(81-100)

-Floor 6: Dragon-like

(101-120)

-Floor 7: Lords of Old

(121-140)

-Floor 8: Fauns and Centaurs

(141-160)

-Floor 9: Billionaires/Millionaires

(161-180)

-Floor 10: Totally legitimate businessman (mafia/the mob)

(181-200)

-20 rooms per floor

-Each “head” of the floor is in the last room on the floor (i.e. floor 2’s “head will be in room 40)

-Each floor has a hierarchy, weak to powerful goes in room order (1-20) with 1 being weak and 20 being strong

1 = Michael

2 = Gabriel

3 = Sebastian

4 = Lucas

5 = Hudson

6 = Asher

7 = William

8 = Theodore

9 = Henry

10 = Benjamin

EXTRA INFO:

-Willow is stuck with many of the “heads” of head floor trying to woo her and have her as their wife

SCENE JUNK:

-the story opens up with Willow working at her job, only to receive a call from an unknown number about the death of her uncle Reginald, and is told to go to the reading of his will

-at the reading she finds out that she now owns an apartment complex, and can’t just sell it until after the half year mark, and to a legible new owner

-she is forced to quit her job and goes to the apartment complex

-waiting their in her new office (the keys are given to her at the reading) is a stack of paper with instructions and little to no extra information about the residents, aside from a list of names marked in red

-she finds the date and time each room’s rent is due and starts marking the calendar hanging in the office

-a montage of her cleaning the office from any junk and trash ensues

-open up to two days later she starts receiving calls from different floors about issues

-she goes to floor 3 first, the floor lit with low light-lights and a big sign reading NO GARLIC OR WOODEN STAKES ALLOWED

-knocks on the specific room that called, (room 58) the door opens to a short woman with small fangs and curly red hair with a dark purple dress on. The lady claims her room has a hole in the wall near the radiator, Willow goes over and looks, finding out there is indeed a hole. The following dialogue ensues: W: “There is a hole, do you know how it got here?” Lady Vampire (LV): “No, my son was running around when he suddenly started crying about being burned” W: “Burned?” LV: “Yes, it was a terrible fright!” W: “May I ask why he was burned?” LV: “He’s a vampire, so am I. Are you new? Where’s Reginald, he would know what to do.” W: “V-Vampire?” LV: “Yes? Didn’t you know that?” W: “No I didn’t…Is there anything else I should know about before I go?” LV: “No, when will the wall be fixed?” W: “Within the next few hours. I just have to find the materials needed before I can fix it.” LV: “Well, please hurry.” With that Willow leaves the room in a hurry, she hurries downstairs into her office and starts scrambling to find anything that could tell her more about the apartment complex.

-After a while she finds a list of rules and floor information beneath an old pile of magazines. (Above info on floors are listed plus extra)

-She places the paper on the desk before making a note to read the paper before she goes to answer another call.

-Willow finds the materials in the basement to fix the wall and hurries up to room 58. She enters and fixes the wall telling the lady there that it should be dried and fully stable by morning, and to keep her son away from the area until then.

-As she leaves the lady says her name is Revene, and her son is Irolan

-Willow nods and leaves

-Back in her office she starts to read more about the apartment and each floor. As she reads on she gets another call from floor 2. The issue now is that the water isn’t clean enough and there are iron filings near the elevator

-Willow approaches the floor with caution after reading each rule regarding the Fey. Once on the floor she finds the iron filings and sweeps them into a dustpan, before disposing of it in a trash can on the floor below.

-After cleaning the iron off the floor she approaches room 40 and knocks on the door, which is opened by a tall man with shoulder length brown hair, swept back on his head and tied in the back (half-up-half-down) with hazel brown eyes. He is well built and well dressed.

-Willow asks about the water issue but the man avoids the question and asks for her name, to which Willow freezes up and starts to quickly think of a false name. The following dialogue ensues:

W: “The water has a cleanliness issue, correct?” [a pause] Male Fey (MF): What’s your name girl?” W: “P-pardon?” MF: “Apologies, I asked for your name, what is it?” [another pause] W: “Winow” MF: “Winow? Where is Regy? He normally comes to help.” W: “My uncle-*cough* I mean Regy passed away, I’m here in his place.” MF: “He died?” W: “Yes sir.”

MF: “That’s a shame. You claimed you’re here to handle the dirty water?” W: “Yes sir. May I ask where the problem is located and if I can enter?” MF: “The water filter turned off 4 days ago. It’s located in the kitchen closet. You may enter to fix it.” W: “Understood.” [she enters the room and searches for the kitchen closet, once finding it she opens the door and checks the water filter. Upon inspection, a part was knocked out of place and a new filter needs to be placed inside. She replaces the filter and fixes the part as she turns around she finds the man right behind her, watching her work. She jumps slightly and gets up] W: “Are there any more issues I should check?” MF: “Not currently. Is the filter fixed?” W: “Yes sir, it’s fixed.” [He smiles] MF: “Wonderful. Care for something to eat before you go? Perhaps something to drink?” W: “No sir, I’m not hungry nor thirsty. I’m grateful you offered though.” MF: “Are you sure? I just received a batch of honey glazed pastries.” W: “I’m sure. Goodbye sir.” [Willow leaves the room. As she is leaving the man’s face dropped into a frown]

-Willow returns to her office and breathes a sigh of relief.

-A knock is heard on her door and she sits up straight before calling for them to come in.

-A tall man walks in, he has black hair that falls just below his green eyes, slicked back. He is wearing a black vest and velvet red shirt underneath accompanied by a pair of black gloves. His sleeves are rolled up revealing a fancy watch. The following dialogue ensues:

W: “May I help you?” M: “I heard there was a new landlord because Reginald died, it seems my informant was correct, although, you are no landlord but rather a landlady.” [the man approaches the desk after winking at Willow] “My name is Benjamin, but you can call me whatever you wish.” [He takes her hand and kisses the back of it, she retracts it quickly] W: “A pleasure to meet you Benjamin, I’m Willow. Why are you in my office, other than to chat me up?” B: “I was only making small conversation, but you caught on regardless. I wanted to inform you myself before any, less savory characters came to you first. I’m the head of the 10th floor. We are only legitimate businessmen and wish no issues for you. I’m unsure if Reginald told you this but, we offer any form of help to those who are beneficial to our work.” W: “So what you’re saying is that if I keep my mouth shut when the police come knocking, the mob won’t try to make a hit on me?” B: “Your words, not mine.” [He gets up from his desk] “If you need anything or land in some trouble, ask for me.” [He leaves the office]

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Sonia’s Trying to Hold Herself Accountable to Just Write SOMETHING Once A Day challenge - Day 21

Hoping after today I can go back to trying to get back into my creative writing zone but we shall see. Still journaling today.

Today felt long. It wasn't. But it felt like and I am, for some reason, exhausted. And it's funny that I type that because an almost immediate reaction from all the parts inside me is screaming, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOR ALMOST NO REASON??"

Cuz like many, I'm sure, I've been following the news and it's been a roller coaster and having worked in the small business division for 7 years before October 2024 and having an entire Instagram account dedicated to supporting small businesses who almost all get their products made in China ... it's been a WEEK, not just a day, and it's only Wednesday! And if I'm this exhausted as just a customer of theirs, I cannot imagine what they as business owners trying to eek out a living in this dystopian hellscape are feeling.

I had my interview today. I feel like I blew it lol. EVERY. QUESTION. Y'all. Was ... "Tell me about a time..." which to ME means they are looking for specificity, yeah? But EVERY ANSWER OF MINE devolved into, "Well actually that's something I did every day because..."

Having to delivery bad news? Every day.

Having to deal with unexpected change? Every day.

What did you like about your job? Well, that one was easier. But then what DIDN'T I like about my job and having to be honest (cuz I don't know how to lie) about having ZERO SUPPORT from the higher ups at my job, only to very belatedly realize that while I would TELL PEOPLE I don't have the diplomatic temperament to be a manager? THEY ACTUALLY HAD ME MANAGING MYSELF AND WHOEVER MY TEAMMATE WAS BECAUSE I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO GAVE A SH!T ABOUT US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Maybe that's another factor into me being tired. The interview did indeed take up the 60 minutes, but it flew by. What I did NOT expect was having to revisit all of the emotions of almost 8 years at my former employer and thinking through the CATALOG of bullsh!t they put me through to try and express the types of difficulties I have faced and how they have helped me figure out ways to work on myself.

I'm still not over what that place did to me, nor how it all ultimately ended. And having my best friend still effectively "stuck" there because I recruited her when I needed REAL HELP and didn't trust the company after they had stuck me with someone for NINE MONTHS who did NOT want to be there and was sure to show it EVERY GEE DEE DAY? Not awesome lol because I feel guilty about it every day. She got stuck with the workload of TWO PEOPLE with only 2 years experience under her belt ... why? Cuz the company once again demonstrated that they have ZERO CLUE of what we do NOR DO THEY RESPECT the work that we do.

Sigh. I'm supposed to be informed by April 25 whether or not I'm going to be offered the job. I have plenty of other shizz I need to get done before then and up until May 3rd before the bestie comes to visit me so HOPEFULLY I will keep myself distracted and not stress myself out about this. And hopefully I can keep searching through endless listings to try and find something that sounds like it might be meaningful and help me keep a roof over my family's head.

If you read this far, I'm sending you love and light and hope that you are finding joy and peace when and where you can in your days

[lgcmaylin]

"May!" He shouts after her, running up to her when he can. Given the day and his schedule, there is not much time for him to linger around, but he manages to find her somehow. He makes not much ado about shoving a present in her direction. It's neatly wrapped in an elegant white and gold paper, and another smaller square box fastened on top. All of it is kept together with a sturdy red ribbon. He also hands her a single black rose. He cannot wait around for her to open the gift, however. "Happy birthday, Maylin. I'm sorry that I cannot stick around... I have some obligations, but... enjoy your day!" He offers her a halfway hug before he has to leave, waving as he does so. Inside the square box is a chocolate cupcake with dark purple icing and a 21 candle stuck on top. In the other box is a Kuromi plushie holding a box of tarot cards.

this was the most people had called out to her. she had never wanted this much, or sought it out for in a single day. though it was easy for the woman to forget that it was her birthday and some people cared.

or want to celebrate her.

when seeing the tall male coming towards her, maylin gave him a small wave. his approach was rushed, most likely due to his pressing schedule. after all, hyunsoo's career was growing faster than may could comprehend. she was proud of him, yet she wished they could catch up a little today. being handed a box didn't do much to her heart, yet seeing the rose is what made it skip slightly. her usual pale cheeks were warm to the touch as she felt flustered by the gesture. "thank you… make sure to at least call me later, if you can." she responded, giving him a half smile before he was off. just like that.

maylin scurried off to the practice rooms, locking the door so she could open her gift in peace. the rose will be saved and dried for memories. the cupcake was carefully taken out and placed on the ground so she could admire the plushie and cards that she had been desperately wanting for months now. she lit the candle with her customized lighter she bought, sending off a photo with a thank you before blowing it out.

while the cupcake wasn't the best thing she had ever tasted, it was made with love - she thinks.

[makkiroll]

aaaaaaa—

[lonepantheress]

♡ txt as summer jobs

pairing: ot5!txt

genre: crack

warnings: completely unserious.

a/n: my inspiration? work has been kicking my ass and i thought it'd be funny if a shitty summer job kicked their ass too! will be updating with a REAL FIC so soon

Yeonjun

Works everywhere and is somehow always broke

It starts to freak you out

Like you see him as your cashier getting ice cream

And then he’s stocking shelves at the store and you’re like, “Oh, that’s weird..”

And then he’s your waiter at a restaurant

And you’re like, “?????”

He’s all cute and nice and hates his job(s) and is like, “I’m saving for a car!”

But he can blow through a paycheck in like a week. 

If he’s your coworker omg I could imagine him being the coolest person ever.

Willing to pick up shifts, is fun to talk to when it isn’t busy, and gets shit done when it is.

I don’t see him being like the manager type, but the type that all the managers love even when he’s being super lazy just because he’s charming.

Soobin

Really sweet barista at Starbucks 

The type that you run and tell your friends about after you see him because he’s so attractive and so nice

He hates his job though.

I could see him not being a manager but instead being a “team leader” which is basically a manager in training wheels.

Always stressed. Always saying, “I think I’m going to quit soon”

His ass is NOT quitting soon

Like- if he quit, his coworkers would probably cry

Constantly cleaning because he’s constantly knocking things over.

Any embarrassing customer experience? He can safely say he’s had it

Really good at saving his money well

Like… suspiciously good.

Beomgyu

Works at like Forever 21 or something

And using “work” here loosely because he never shows up

How he isn’t fired a month in? Who knows.

A stickler for his job title too

“Oh, so you’re like a cashier at-”

“I’m actually a style consultant.”

He’s just a cashier with a fancy name.

He will hide in between clothing racks and play on his phone or chit-chat with someone else

And if he’s on register, he’s really not paying attention to his surroundings

“Hi, are you able to check me out?”

“What..”

“Like, can I pay here?”

“OH, YES, RIGHT! I WORK HERE!”

Will tell customers all the workarounds and codes and coupons they can stack without them even having to ask.

His giving out company secrets will probably get him fired before him never doing his job.

Taehyun

Works at some fast food spot and wins management over in like a week.

So efficient, so smart, so practical, he gets promoted in record time

the embodiment of this meme I'm sorry

He’s genuinely very good at his job and not necessarily proud of it, just good at it.

And he’s only so good because he uses common sense.

The old ladies that come in love him and are like, “You remind me of someone I knew when I was in high school!”

Will not cover any shifts for the LIFE of him, he would actually prefer you call out before asking him to cover your shift for you

He’d also be so annoying to couponers. It’d basically become a battle of who knows the company policy better

GOD at saving money. Has a 401k and retirement and college fund.

Kai

Game stop employee

Like if you’re buying a game that he knows, you’re stuck for another half hour listening to him talk about it

He gets in trouble for stashing away things that get sold out quickly for himself

He’s actually so sweet to the nerdy little kids in the store

But he also would tell their parents, “This game has a lot of violence and gore btw!!!!!” before they buy it for their kid

As a coworker would have the most fucked up inconsistent schedule

Shows up every day for 2 weeks in a row

And then disappears

And then shows up every day again and you’re like “hello???”

Would initiate the oddest small talk ever while the store is empty

“Do you ever wonder if a little pebble in your shoe is actually your toe rolling around?”

“No….”

“Yeah, me neither.”

[dejwritesarchived]

[🥀]: SUMMARY.

↠ with bonten being one of tokyo’s most dangerous gangs at the moment, the stress of balancing the wicked lifestyle he’s been involved in since he was a teenager is slowly getting to one of bonten’s executive ran haitani. however, when he meets an innocent artist named [y/n] [l/n] who wants to use him as a model for her sculpture project, he becomes intrigued with her innocence in such a corrupted city. tugging the wholesome woman into his cruel world bit by bit. but here’s the catch, [y/n]’s loving the joyride straight into ran haitani’s wicked world.

[🥀]: WARNINGS + SETTINGS + PAIRINGS.

↠ heavy smut, praise kink, size kink, alcohol, drug usage, overstimulation, edging, virgin!reader, slight age gap, mention of fetishization,  this fic lowkey smut but with a plot !!

↠ time skip! doesn’t really follow manga/anime

↠ ran haitani x black!female reader

[🥀]: CHAPTERS.

↠ prologue. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. epilogue. 

[🥀]: MISC.

↠ playlist. edits

PROLOGUE.

IT SEEMED LIKE HIS DAY JUST COULDN’T GET ANY MORE WORST, as he sat in the back of the fancy tinted window SUV his hands combing through his hair as he let out a sigh. “Can we stop at this cafe?” He asked as he motioned to the cafe just across from the red light they had stopped at.

“Of course.” His driver said as he continued to drive, he had made a turn to park into the parking lot of the small cafe.

Feeling the door be opened for him, he stepped out fixing the well tailored suit he wore. “We can always just order for you.” One of his men said as he held the door open.

“It’s okay, I’m not a toddler. I can do it myself.” He simply said as he walked towards the entrance of the cafe.

Ran Haitani stepped into the cafe with so much confidence, his sharp brooding looks caused the few people in the cafe to stare in his direction. He stood behind a young woman who was ordering, his hands shoved into the pockets of his grey colored slacks.

“How’s the final project going [Y/N]?” The cashier asked as they were pressing buttons on the POS machine.

“I haven’t found a model yet, but other than that I guess you can say it’s going shitty.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a handsome model. You know I’m always happy to display any of your art.” The cashier spoke as they turned around to make her drink.

“Thanks Jennie, you can just use the change to pay for the person behind me.”

“Gotcha.” She responded by sliding the hot drink towards her.

“Thanks.”

Ran watched as the woman in front of him walked by him to take a seat in the back, she had a perfect view of who would leave and enter the cafe. He approached the counter and the cashier would give him a smile. “It’s your lucky day because the customer before you paid for your purchase.” She says as she motioned to the young woman that was sitting at a table.

His eyebrows raised in confusion, but he didn’t argue as the cashier behind the register turned to make his coffee order. He would turn around to stare at the woman who was sitting at the table, her face buried into the book she was drawing in. It seemed like the sun that was peeking through the huge glass window she sat by bounced right off her brown skin that caused it to glisten beautifully. Ran’s teeth grazed at his lower lip, her beautiful had him stuck in place. Something that haven’t happened before. After all, he was Ran Haitani of Bonten.

“Here’s your coffee sir.”

He turned around picking up the cup, flashing the woman a charming smile before leaving the cafe. Leaving behind the woman he was mesmerized by.

But he didn’t know, that woman felt his hard gaze at her. And that woman watched as he climbed into the back seat of the fancy SUV. Her hands a trembling a mess as she pushed one of her braids out her face.

“I want him to be my model for my project,” she mumbles to herself.