#What Business Can I Start With 50K

[queers-gambit]

Affirmation King

prompt: ( requested ) attending university as a full-time student is hard, but your boyfriend makes some of the stress worth it.

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 3.1k+

note: author gives unsolicited advice in the form of sharing a citation website to make college essays a little easier! this is not meant as promotion or anything, it's just your author trying to share a resource they know of.

warnings: cursing, small hurt large comfort (reader snaps a little at Carmy but he handles it like a fucking pro), author gives unsolicited college advice in the form of a recommended website, reader is in a masters program and not undergrad, fluff.

The 16 inch screen glared into your retinas, fingers feeling numb from the hours pounding away at the loose keyboard. When the screen started to warble and darken, your head ducked down slightly to try and preserve your visual; glaring up at the offender when they pressed the screen closed after forcing you to retract your hands.

"You're cute and all, but not so cute as to interrupt me like that," you deadpanned, eyes wide and burning from your lack of lubrication via blinking.

"You've been sat here for hours, it's time for a break."

"Funny when I say that to you, it's always, 'Get outta my kitchen.'"

Carmy smirked, "Come eat something."

"Let me finish this essay and - "

"No, it's time for a meal."

You felt your irritation spike, narrowing your eyes slightly, "I'm on a deadline, Carmen, so either be fucking helpful and productive or get the fuck out of my space. I've got work to do and you're just slowing me down."

He offered a patient look, asking, "Is that what you really wanted to say?"

You paused, then shook your head, "No... May I try again?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"I appreciate you trying to... Alleviate some of my stress," you spoke slowly, stringing the sentence together in realtime, "but this project isn't something I can ignore right now, so, I'd like to finish this thing before we do whatever else."

"Better," he teased, knowing you ran a short fuse when stressed out and overworked. "What's got you riled up?"

"I have this 20-page paper due."

"20 pages!?"

"It's not that bad, honestly, once you have your thesis together," you chuckled dryly. "it's just time consuming and meticulous."

He frowned and stepped forward to press a kiss to your forehead, mocking in a sarcastic tone, "You're doing amazing, sweetie."

"I'm so tired," you pouted up at him. "Do I really need this degree? This is so much stress for such a little thing such as a piece of paper that cost me $50k just to say I'm allowed to join the work force."

"Hey, hey," he laughed. "Just remember what you're working towards. You're one assignment closer to your internship turning into a full-time gig, right?"

You nodded, "You're right. I want that job so bad... I just hate how busy I feel - it's like, how can I remember to eat let alone write 6 different response posts to my classmate's work?"

Carmy nodded with empathy, "Just remember that end goal, baby. Keep grinding, keep moving. Almost at the finish line, right?"

"Right," you nodded with a smile. "Thank you, angel face."

Carmy smiled at you before softly asking, "Want me to bring you anything? Something to eat, drink, a condom?"

"Stop quoting Mean Girls at me!"

His hands shot up in defense, deflecting, "I was just trying to be a gracious host. If the missus wants anything, I'll make sure she has it."

"Pretty sure 'missus' is a term used for wives - " His groan made you laugh lightly, then covering, "No, thank you, baby, I'm okay. I should only be about another hour or so...?"

"All right, yeah, sure. I'll start dinner in 30, okay?"

"Sure," you smiled, already distracted again as you lifted your screen again to stare at the Word document that had been haunting your hard-drive for about 3 weeks now.

"Hey," he interrupted, "don't forget your glasses."

"Thank you," you mumbled, reaching for the special, blue-light filtering glasses Carmy had gifted you when you first started your Master's program. He claimed staring at a computer screen was going to cause long-term damage (he read an article) and got you a pair, which, you had to admit, made a huge difference.

Your hair was raked into a new bun as you reread the last of your essay, trying to get back in the academic mindset in order to finish the last bit of your assignment. There were textbooks spewed around your work table; laptop plugged in, highlighters and pens and notebooks within reach and a nearly-finished bottle of water was set to the side. You wrote ferociously once you got back on the right mental track, feeling your headache stir to life as you blindly reached for your water bottle.

However, when you picked it up, you blinked in mild shock when the bottle was heavier than before. Glancing over, you realized Carmy had replaced the bottle because there, under where it had sat, he left you a handwritten note:

replenish what you lost from crying!

You chuckled, knowing you were a stress cryer and when tackling big assignments like this, you were ten times as stressed as usual. Still you worked, even putting your headphones on to play soothing background noise - like rainfall. Your neck cramped, back ached, temples throbbed, and hands were cramping. Still you worked, using sticky notes to flag the important quotes you wanted to use from your textbooks and notebooks. Your stomach growled, your eyes begged for reprieve, chest felt tight, and shoulders were too tense.

Still. You. Worked.

Deadlines were important to you, and while you were a professional procrastinator, you always turned everything in on time - no matter your mental state. You could smell whatever Carmy had started cooking, focused on writing as you only used spellcheck as you went - and still you worked. You knew you surpassed the hour limit you told Carmy, but you couldn't stop, you were so close to finishing, it almost put tears back in your eyes, but this time out of relief. You only paused to look at online sources and apply chapstick, cracking your tightly-wound knuckles, and when you finished the last body paragraph of the essay, grinned to yourself.

All that was left was your conclusion, to create a bibliography, and to edit - but you were almost home free!

Suddenly, you jumped in fright when a hand planted on your shoulder; whipping around to see your boyfriend's own startled expression. "Sorry," Carmy apologized with a wince when you removed your headphones, "didn't mean to scare you, just wanted to check on you."

You nodded, 'Yeah, no, I'm almost done. Like give me 20 minutes, almost done-almost done."

He smiled softly, "Dinner's ready when you are."

"I'll be there soon, thank you, angel face."

"Can I help with anything?"

"Uh," you cocked your head, "you know what? Maaaaybe..."

"Really?" He grinned, perking up. "You never let me help!"

"It's not really work, per se," you amended, "but would you mind letting me read this out loud to you - see if it makes sense? The mark of a good writer is to act as if the audience knows nothing about the subject and make them understand, and you're exactly that."

"Lemme hear it," he nodded, taking a seat, "I might not be much help but I can still try."

You agreed and finished typing the outline of your conclusion, then scrolled to the top of your word document, and explained to him what your class was before starting to read. He listened intently, sitting on a spare stool with his elbows resting on his knees; keeping him leaned forward to provide his undivided attention. You managed to reword a few sentences, only noticing they didn't make sense when you read them out loud. Once or twice, Carmy even offered an alternative phrasing you liked - making the changes and rereading, then continuing through your assignment.

By the end, you were able to beef up the conclusion and Carmy was grinning at you in pride. "That's real good, baby," he complimented, "it all made sense and rolled nice together. I think that has to be an 'A'-worthy paper."

"You should be the one grading theses, my professor's the worst," you frowned. "It's why I got so in my head, I got a fucking 76 on my last essay and need to do really well on the next few to help average my grade."

"What about the tests?"

"We don't have any, this class is all about writing material and turning it in," you pouted.

"Hey," he spoke seriously, making you look at him in question, "I'm really proud of you."

You giggled nervously, "Oh, yeah? Why? What for?"

"For doing this," he nodded to the desk. "Look at all you're doing, baby, there's no way I'd ever be able to keep up with this kinda shit. You're doing such a great fucking job - I want you to remember that. What you're doing ain't easy, but you're handling this like a pro."

"I cry, like, everyday..."

"So what? You still get shit done while emoting - call that multitasking, baby."

"Got me there."

"Seriously, though, you're not told enough what a fantastic job you're doing; how strong and resilient you have to be to deal with this kind of stress day-in and day-out. I see the hard work you put in," he promised, "and I want you to know how fucking proud I am of you. It's all gonna be worth it one day, but until then, I love watching you grind through school. I might not take the classes with you, but I'll help however I can, whenever I can."

"Thank you," you whispered. "It's really nice to hear... I feel myself burning out and it's nice to be reminded that what I do now will influence my future. Validates me in feeling stressed out, you know? Sometimes, I feel silly 'cause, like, there's so many bigger things to be upset about and here I am, stressed out at a place that's guaranteed to stress me out..."

"It's not silly, it's normal. College ain't easy," he reminded, "and you're just trying to keep yourself afloat."

"Yeah, but there's bigger things in life than something trivial as my education."

Carmy scoffed at you, shaking his head, "Ain't no way."

"What?"

"My girl just said her feelings are trivial... Nah, she said her emotions about her education is trivial," he shook his head again. "Should wash your mouth out with soap - talkin' crazy like that. Baby, you know, first and foremost, your education is high on our priorities list, but your emotions? You think they're trivial? Nah, if anything causes you to have any emotion, it's valid - it's not something silly or redundant."

You pouted slightly, "You always know what to say."

"Hungry?"

"You're the perfect man," you laughed, looking at your document again and humming. "Okay, so, lemme just cite my sources and turn this in."

"Then you wanna have date night?" He smirked.

"No, no, I'm so tired - "

"I meant we can stay in."

"Oh, then count me in!"

"Change into something cozy when you're done, we can watch a movie with dinner. Yeah?"

You agreed, accepted his kiss of encouragement, and then took his leave to reheat the dinner that had surely cooled off. It didn't take long to cite everything when you used an online citation source website - that IS N O T plagiarizing! It's a handy-dandy tool you discovered your undergraduate freshman year by an actual professor. It was as simple as choosing which style, APA or MLA, and then to either paste the URL of the website you need sourced or you type in the book's information. Hit the generate button and BAM! A perfect citation for your bibliography every single time.

Or if you didn't like that, you could always just Google citation examples and do your best to write it out yourself. But the website, Citation Machine dot net, was a great tool. After perfecting your in-text citations and saving your work, you uploaded it to your university's assignment portal, crossed the essay off your to-do list, and stretched on your feet.

Cleaning up your space minimally, you hustled to your bedroom to get a quick hot, relieving shower, change, and then met Carmy in the kitchen. "Hey," you sighed with a soft smile.

"Hey, doll. All done?"

"For tonight," you groaned, "but tomorrow's a new day with new assignments."

"That's a future problem we'll handle at a later time," he eased, showing you your dinner plate. "Ta-daaaa!"

You grinned, "Oh, baby, this looks amazing!"

"Yeah, well, I kinda figured as a full-time student right now, nobody was gonna remind you what incredible job you're doing, so, I'm more than happy to step up to the plate. And what better treat than your favorite meal, huh?"

"Thank you," you whispered, pecking his lips.

You often thought his love language was "food", but then you realized it was technically under the acts of service and quality time. He loved cooking for you - it was like a gift. He loved cooking with you - it was time spent bonding. He loved introducing you to new dishes - it's a present! He loved when you let him give you a culinary lesson - it was time well spent.

"C'mon," Carmy lead you to the living room, both crashing on the couch you had been gifted from your grandmother's house when she was put in a nursing home. Normally, you wouldn't have splurged on something like this, but considering it was free, you and Carmy were happy to use it. Settling together on the couch, you got cozy under a shared blanket and Carmy flicked some movie on for background noise, but instead of watching, he just asked you about your coursework.

You told him what you could, shaking your head and huffing about how annoying your program was. How hectic. How jam packed and fast-paced it all seemed to be. How your head felt like it was spinning. How you couldn't nail down workable coping mechanisms and just felt totally out of control. You were spiraling.

You needed this rant session.

Carmy listened intently.

He never once tried to say, "oh, but if you had time management," or anything like, "if you do THIS instead..." or some bullshit, "my way works better." His bright and wide blue eyes watched you the entire time, sighing when you got to the end of your meal and vent session.

"It just feels like, I turn in one assignment, I get three more right after. Turn in those three, and all of a sudden, there's another 10!"

"Does the syllabus say anything about that?" He wondered.

"No, it just said what our reading schedules were and when major assignments are due. But those dates all got shuffled around that it feels like a train wreck. You know, if the original schedule was kept from the syllabus, I wouldn't feel so worked up! It's the rearrangement and added assignments without warning that's throwing me off."

"That doesn't sound easy," he validated. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No, you're doing more than enough," you whispered, pecking his lips. "Thank you for dinner."

"I made dessert, too."

"No!" You gasped with a grin.

"Mhm - wait here. I'll grab it."

"Wow, dinner, movie, and dessert?" You teased, "I'm being spoiled tonight."

"You've been working your ass off for weeks now," he smirked, standing from his seat to pick up your plates, "this is the least I could do. I know I said it, but you know how good a job you're doing, right? Damn, baby," he chuckled, "ain't no way I could ever handle shit like that on the regular."

"I could't do what you do, either."

"We all balance our crazy different. Want some tea? Wine?"

"Tea would be great."

"Comin' up."

When Carmy returned, you pulled the blanket back to let him sit again with the dessert plate between you both; two steaming mugs of tea sat on the coffee table. "What's this?" You wondered, seeing a sort of pastry.

"Marcus told me 'bout this," he chuckled. "Kinda like a poor man's version of this one thing he makes. So, look, it's Pillsbury Crescent Rolls, right? In the middle, there's raspberry preserves - or jam if you want that instead. It's baked then drizzled in melted white chocolate."

"Wow, you got all fancy on me," you beamed.

"Hardly, more like I was a little impulsive after hearing your essay. Figured you could use some dessert - you really earned it, baby. You always earn dessert," he grinned, "but tonight, you were kickass. Know that? Hear me?"

You shook your head, "This is nothing compared - "

"Hey, hey, nah," he interrupted, "nah, nah, don't do that, don't try to invalidate or downplay yourself. Look, shit is always hard in college, right? But you handle it so well, I can see the work you're putting in and the little reward you receive in return, and know that shit's gotta add up for you. But my baby just keeps cool, does her work, and does what she can to earn the grades she does. Right?"

"I mean, I try to..."

"You succeed. C'mon, lemme hear you say it. 'I kick college's ass.'"

"I kick college's ass."

"'I work hard.'"

"Carmy - "

"Saaay it!"

You huffed, "I work hard."

"'I'm an incredible hard worker.'"

"I'm an incredible hard worker."

"'I am only human.'"

Another breath in, repeating, "I am only human."

"'I am a success.'"

"I try to be a success."

"That wasn't the quote."

"Well, I don't know if I'm succeeding because grades aren't finalized yet and I have - "

"No, no, no," he smirked again, "you're still successful 'cause you're doing such a kickass job. You could get a fucking 'D' on something, and guess what? You're still successful 'cause you don't let this tear you down, you learn from mistakes and apply whatever lessons you learn to your upcoming assignments. Some people say you might even learn more from losing and failing than from undisputed success. Look, I'll be honest, I thought my job was hectic as shit, but hearing your essay tonight? Goddamn, you're not just beautiful, but so fucking intelligent, too. Baby, I was shook - that sounded like some academic paper that college kids need to defend their thesis or some shit. Something scholarly, not some assignment you gotta hand in by a deadline so you just wrote down whatever. So, give yourself credit and tell yourself you're a success."

With a long, deep breath, you answered earnestly, "I'm a success."

"Good girl," he muttered, handing you a fork finally. However, unlike Mikey all those years ago, you didn't launch your utensil at anyone and used it to cut off a corner of pastry.

You moaned when you tasted the gooey goodness. You managed through a mouthful, "Mmhhh! Mhm! Mhm! If you make this every time I have some assignment pissing me off and stressing me out, I'm afraid I'll get used to this treatment."

Carmy grinned, "You deserve whatever dessert you want, whenever you want. Huh? Yeah? Lemme hear you say it."

With another grin, you mused, "I deserve whatever I want, when I want it... And however I want it!"

"Atta girl!"

"You're so fucking corny," you laughed lightly, feeling as if you were falling in love with him again, "but thank you, my Affirmation King."

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[theambitiouswoman]

I love money and money loves me.

How to change your relationship with money:

Reframe the story you tell yourself: Work on establishing an abundance mindset. Look at your current beliefs and attitude about money. Do you have a scarcity mindset? Are you constantly chasing money and not believing you can reach your financial goals? Do you think money is bad?

Establish a positive mindset: Focus on gratitude for what you already have and embrace the belief that there are endless opportunities to become financially successful. Practice affirmations or visualization exercises to reinforce positive thoughts and attract abundance.

Educate yourself: Expand your financial literacy by reading books, watching videos, going to seminars or taking online courses on personal finance and money management. Understanding concepts like budgeting, investing, and saving will help you make informed decisions and take control of your finances.

Create a clear plan: Define specific and realistic financial goals for yourself. Whether it's paying off debt, saving for a home, or starting a business, having clear objectives will give you direction and motivation. Break these goals down into smaller milestones to make them more achievable and real in your mind.

Create a budget: Create a budget to track your income, expenses, and savings. Budgeting helps you gain a clear understanding of where your money is going and allows you to prioritize your spending. Ensure that your budget aligns with your financial goals and helps you save for the future.

Monitor your spending: Monitor your expenses closely to identify any unnecessary or impulsive spending habits. Use mobile apps or spreadsheets to record your expenses and categorize them.

Save and invest wisely: Make saving a priority by automating regular contributions to a savings account. Start building an emergency fund to cover unexpected expenses. Investing your money wisely to grow your wealth over time. Make your money work for you. Having money just sitting in the bank will not make it grow.

Needs Vs wants: Before making a purchase, ask yourself if it aligns with your values and financial goals. Avoid impulsive buying and give yourself time to consider whether it's a necessity or a fleeting desire.

Surround yourself with people who feel comfortable talking about money: Engage with people who have a healthy relationship with money. People who can casually have a conversation about making $10k, $20, $50k etc a month without blinking an eye. This will open your eyes about what you can have and help you feel comfortable with setting goals for yourself.

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hi, could you do a Charlie Morningstar x GN Reader Platonic/ Romantic(sprinkle NSFW) either fic or headcanon? She's my fave aside from Alastor.~ I love her so much as Verbalese paid 50k! (jk)

Sweet As Candy

Charlie Morningstar x GN!Reader

TW: NSFW SPRINKLED IN HERE- MINORS GO AWAY PLEASE!!!

A/N:I have deprived my followers of Charlie content for too long. I am sorry. ALSO I WENT A LIL HEAVY ON THE NSFW PART IM SO SORRY FRIEND! I can talk about Charlie all day, I love her so much.

-👑 You both start off as good friends, you knew her for so long that you just kinda know the best ways to wrangle her in when she gets too excited.

-👑 This girl trusts and loves you so much like even before you both start dating? You say something or give her your honest opinion even though it might hurt her feelings? She gladly listens and thanks you for your input. 

-👑 Oh boy when she realizes she has feelings for you? She’s stuck in a little funk, because you're her best friend in all of hell and now she has feelings for you? What if you reject her? What if you hate her? It takes some divine intervention from Lucifer for her to not constantly break down from overthinking everything. 

-👑 Now this goes without saying, Lucifer? Adores you. You're Charlie's best friend (and crush), but if you hurt her he will kill you. No if ands or buts. Charlie tells him not to threaten you, she doesn’t want him to freak you out.

-👑 Once she realizes you feel the same? OH BOY- She’s a happy camper and just hugs you before immediately pulling away asking if you’re sure because dating THE princess of hell can put a target on your back easily. Once you say you are very much sure you want her and only her? She tears up and starts crying, it’s not sad tears but happy ones! She is just like her father and when she gets super emotional it ends up in tears.

-👑 Omg Kisses abound, like if you don’t like showing a lot of PDA? She kisses your cheek but she actually kisses you in private! But if you don’t mind the kisses? She’s giving you a bazillion before night time. She can’t help it! You’re just too darn cute!

-👑 I have a hunch she loves taking photos of you- Like some? You’re not even paying attention to the camera or you’re just busy with something else, she has a folder in her phone with pictures upon pictures of you. She’s a simp. (The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.)

-👑 Also a huge cuddler, just standing somewhere with her? She’s moving behind you to hold you, arms wrapped around your waist as she leans against you. She’s tall asf she has the privilege of doing so. Sitting on her lap? She’s got you locked in and she’s not letting you go anytime soon? She may look weak but this girl is strong asf.

-👑Sleep headcanon rq? She snores but it’s so soft you can’t hear it unless you’re super close to her. Also moves alot, like her legs twitch and she tends to not be comfortable enough so when she is? She starfishes out on the bed so you have to either lay on top of her or get used to waking up with an arm on your face/neck.

-👑 PETNAMES GALORE!! Calls you so many names: Baby, babe, sweetheart, lovebug, the list goes on and on.

ONTO THE NSFW!! WATCH OUT!

-👑 Service top most of the time, only really cares about your own pleasure than her own. But when she’s riled up or showing her true form (*cough* in the show *cough*) she’s very much the dominant one. 

-👑 Most definitely talked to you about this before because she loves and cares for you but has a safeword for both of you, such as the red, yellow and green light or something easy enough both of you can say.

-👑 She loves it when you use her horns as something to grab onto but don’t be too rough as they are sensitive. Other than that? Grab them horns and pull her head around, she loves it. 

-👑 In my mind she hates being degraded but if you want her to degrade you or just talk dirty? Give her a moment to shake the flush off her cheeks then she’ll call you all types of names. 

-👑 Whatever equipment you have down there? Doesn’t matter to her, she loves you and will peg the shit out of you. 

-👑 If you do get to pleasure her? It doesn’t take long until she goes into subspace and starts crying from the pleasure. Check up on her every now and then please, cause she’d be too lost in the pleasure to voice something if it crosses a line for her.

-👑 AFTERCARE QUEEN RIGHT HERE!! She’ll pick you up and take you to her bathroom. Want bathbombs? You got it baby. Want to do face masks as well? Of course!

-👑 Will definitely wash your hair and clean any marks she left on you. Please return the favor and wash her hair too, she’s just a simple girl who wants love.

[alexfromjersey]

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 & 𝓐𝓻𝓰𝓾𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼

jenna ortega x g!poc

summary: two months go by after the premiere of Scream 6. after not speaking for a month, Jenna finds you and has some intense news to share.

warnings: mature language, angst, fluff, mentions abortion

a/n: I'M NOT SCARED OF LIONS, AND TIGERS, AND BEARS...oh and I totally forgot that the Met was May 1 sooooo pretend it was a little bit later in the month. 3.7k words

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

MAY 2023

Life has certainly skyrocketed for you after you released your vlog of the Scream 6 red carpet premiere. Everyone loved the funny moments between you and Davis and the cast appearances. The fans also noticed the interaction between you and Jenna, which blew up. You gained a lot more followers, going from 16.6k to almost 50k in a couple of weeks.

It was a tad bit overwhelming, having more eyes on you but it’s what you signed up for. You just had to adjust. 

“Chat, I got word that my special package is coming soon for the stream. I’m mad excited to show y’all this shit” You beamed. 

You sat back in your gaming chair wearing black basketball shorts and a black tank top. You had your reading glasses on because you were blind as fuck. You just finished playing the new season of Call of Duty and now you were talking to your chat for the last hour of your stream. 

Lately, you’ve noticed that you've lost focus a little bit. Ever since that night with Jenna, it replayed on your mind over and over again. The way her lips felt against yours, the sounds she let out when you pleasured her, and her beautiful body. 

You hate to admit it but you were starting to feel the actress. You’ve had your fair share of women, some that were relationships and some that were just for fun. But you never felt this way about a girl before and it kinda scared you. 

“When are you releasing new music? Whenever I can find studio time. On some real shit chat, I’ve been writing a lot more lately and I really wanna hit up the studio so anyone that can squeeze me in, DM me please” You spoke to chat. 

It didn’t help that Jenna stopped contacting you after a month and some change. You haven’t gotten any DMs, texts, or FaceTime calls in weeks. At first, you figured she was busy doing her job and she didn’t have any time to talk. A quick little text would be enough though.

But you had to remember that y’all are not together. No use of crying over spilled milk. Davis was upset when you told him.

You stupid motherfucker - again his exact words.

“I haven’t looked at my Reddit in a minute, let’s see what’s happening there,” You said and clicked to Reddit.

The first thing that popped up was a picture of you and Jenna at the restaurant. The caption said, “not Jah tryna rizz up MY WIFE!?!?”

You continued to scroll through the Reddit seeing nothing but edits of you at the premiere. There were some edits and pictures of you and Jenna with outrageous captions which made you laugh. You continued scrolling through and interacting with chat for the last fifteen minutes before getting off for the night.

Now you are bored and hungry. You threw on your slides and grabbed your accessories before leaving the apartment. You were craving a baconeggandcheese on an everything bagel from the bodega around the corner. 

( your outfit ^ )

You got to the bodega and ordered your sandwich, grabbed a soda, and some snacks for the rest of the night. About five minutes later, your sandwich was done. You bid goodbye to everyone in the store including the cat at the register before heading back towards your apartment. However, the loud sound of a horn can be heard throughout the night air. You ignored it, thinking it was not for you, and kept walking. But the horn sounded again and a heavy-tinted black SUV pulled up next to you. You were on guard now, you thought you were about to either get got or robbed. You freed your left hand just in case, you had to pull out the tool. But then the back passenger side window rolled down and a familiar face was seen.

“Yo Hollywood, word to you was about to get got. Why you roll up on me like that?” You questioned as you relaxed seeing her face. 

“We beeped the horn twice to get your attention” Jenna replied. 

“This is New York, car horns are heard every second and can mean various things. We beep and shout out the window here” You joked.

A small smile appeared on her face for a second before she turned to someone in the vehicle with her. 

“I need to talk to you…it’s important” She mumbled loud enough for me to hear. 

“Nah I ain’t getting in shit. You ghost me for a month and then roll up on me like this. How did you find me anyway?” You questioned. 

“Davis…I called him. It took a while for him to tell me where you lived but after I expressed how important it was, he gave it to me. Look, I know we haven’t spoken in a month and there’s a reason for that. If you would just get in the car, I will explain everything” Jenna answered. 

You sighed, contemplating getting in the vehicle or not. But after a small inner battle, you walked to the back driver's side and got in the SUV. Inside the vehicle was the driver, an older woman in the passenger seat, Jenna, and a boy who looked around your age. You were highly confused about what was happening.

“Where are we going?” You asked anyone.

“Somewhere we can talk privately” Jenna answered when no one did. 

You hummed in response, you looked down at her and took in her appearance. She was dressed in Adidas pants and an oversized sweater. She had shades covering her eyes which you found odd since it was nighttime. She kept picking at the sleeves of her shirt and bouncing her leg nervously. 

A clear throat made you look away from Jenna to the unknown boy next to her. He was glaring at you and clenching and unclenching his fist. You raised an eyebrow at him before you snorted. Jenna turned to you at the sound but you didn’t spare her another glance. 

You took out your sandwich and began chowing down on it. It was getting cold and you didn’t know how long this talk was gonna take.

Shortly, you all arrived at a building, it looked like an office building. You finish your meal and throw away your trash before following everyone inside the building. You all walk to the back of a conference room. 

“Okay, so what’s this all about? Cause homeboy over there look like he wanna pop off” You said and pointed to the boy sitting next to Jenna. 

“Jahaziel, I’m Nancy, Jenna’s manager and that gentleman next to her is her friend Hudson Maverick. It’s to our newfound knowledge that, you and Ms. Ortega slept together two months ago right?” Nancy inquired.

“I don’t really put my business out on who I sleep and don’t sleep with, with strangers.” You gave a fake smile to the older woman. 

Nancy sighed and ran her hand through her hair, “Jahaziel I’m -.”

“For godsakes Nancy will you just spit it out already to this girl” Hudson interjected. 

“I don’t know how to come out with something like this Hudson. I told you Jenna should be the one talking” Nancy sighed frustrated. 

You looked back and forth between the two with agitated eyes. They were wasting your time. 

“Listen, if this is about you worrying about running around tell people that we slept together, I’m not that kind of person. I don’t go around telling people who I stick my dick in no matter if they famous or not. So if this is what everything is about, you could have just emailed me” You said and went to leave the room but a soft voice stopped you.

“I’m pregnant”

You stopped in your tracks, Hudson and Nancy quieted down. It was so silent in the conference that you can hear a pin drop in the next room. You turned around to face Jenna who stood up from the table and pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were red and puffy like she’s been crying for days and hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep. 

“What?” You whispered.

“Can I talk to her alone please?” Jenna asked quietly. 

Nancy and Hudson looked at each other for a second before nodding. The two got up and left the room, leaving only you and Jenna. 

Jenna stepped towards you, "I'm pregnant. I found out a few days ago when my period didn’t come on. It didn’t come on last month either but I thought it was due to the stress I was under cause it’s happened before. I haven't slept or eaten properly. All I've been doing is crying and crying, wondering how I'm going to tell you. Then I got the courage to finally tell you but then Hudson found the pregnancy test and they started bombarding me with questions."

You felt your heart pick up pace and your palms started to get sweaty. You felt like the oxygen in your body was leaving, you couldn’t breathe. You stumbled into a seat and that’s when Jenna noticed your state. 

“Hey Jahaziel, look at me, breathe okay,” Jenna said and kneeled in front of you. She placed her warm hands on your cheeks and forced you to look at her but you were too busy freaking out.

“I’m a fucking dumb ass bitch, I fucking got a big ass actress pregnant. An actress I barely even know. Do you understand how fucking insane this whole thing is? I just started this YouTube shit, I still live in an overpriced shitty-ass rat-infested apartment complex in a neighborhood where I don’t know if once I step outside I’ll get shot or not. How the fuck you not freaked out right now” You ranted.

“You don’t think I’m losing my mind? Ever since I found out, I have a fucking panic attack every time I wake up. I’m twenty years old, I just booked several movies. I don’t have any time to have a child.” Jenna exclaimed.

“Well, it seems like you getting an abortion is the only option then” You argued. 

“Don’t make that decision for me” Jenna boomed. 

“What the fuck! You just fucking said that you won’t have any time to have a child. What the fuck you gonna do Jenna? Are you gonna fucking wish the baby out of you and everything will fall into place in an instant? You fucking Harry Houdini now?” You yelled, your Bronx accent getting heavy as you shouted. 

“Oh you are just fucking hilarious, huh, your a fucking comedian” Jenna growled.

“You not saying what you want to do! You say you don’t have time for a child then when I say abortion is the only option, you fucking lash out at me.” You roared. 

“Because I don’t want to get an abortion, I want to keep the baby!” Jenna belted. You looked at her face properly now and saw tears were now falling freely down her face. You closed your eyes and take a deep breath in, holding it for ten seconds, before releasing it. You repeated this process a couple of times before you felt yourself calm down. It was a technique the Marines taught you while you were in service, it came in handy most times. 

“I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Being a mom was something I knew I wanted to experience. Having a little mini-me running around with my and my partner’s personality. The experience came a lot earlier than I expected and not the ideal way but I have the chance and I’m not passing it despite what I said because I’ll figure it out. I always figure it out” Jenna confessed. 

She then pulled out a folded Manila envelope and slid it toward you. 

“So if you don’t want anything to do with me and the baby, you can sign your rights away. Nancy’s number is on that business card and she’ll come pick up the papers in the morning” Jenna continued. 

She then got up and walked out of the room.

“Jenna” You called out but she was long gone out of the room with her people following her. 

You sighed and rubbed your hands down your face, extremely stressed out. 

Honestly, you didn’t know what you wanted to do. You never thought about being a parent, especially after the way your father up and left you, your Mom, and your older brother years ago. You never gave parenthood a thought. You needed a second opinion and a blunt.

🤰🏻🩵

It was now 2 in the morning, you sat on your fire escape looking down at the streets with the papers in your hand. You just finished your second blunt of the night to help with the racing thoughts but it only increased it. You kept staring at the signature on the paper, wanting to write your name but not wanting to also. 

“You stress anymore, you gon’ pop a blood vessel” Davis said as he stepped out onto your fire escape. 

Once you found a way back home, you immediately called Davis and told him everything that happened. He told you as soon as he finished with his project, he was rushing over. 

“I feel like I’m about to have an aneurysm,” You said. 

“I would be too if I was in your position. This shit is a mess” Davis stated and took the papers from your clenched hand. He looked over it and exhaled deeply. “So you sign this and all your rights are taken away. No seeing the baby. Nothing?”

“Nothing. I won’t have a say in anything, can’t see them. I’ll literally just be the sperm donor” You said. 

“Is that what you really want? To be known as the sperm donor. You realize that she’s a mega actress and once the news gets out, it ain’t gon’ be long til people figure who the other parent is” Davis stated. 

“I don’t know what I fucking want. A part of me is ecstatic that I have a child on the way.” You exclaimed. 

“What about the other part?” Davis questioned.

You sat in the chair with cloudy eyes. Once Davis got a look at your expression, he immediately realized what this was all about. 

“Your father. You don’t want to end up like him” Davis nodded. 

“It’s been six years and that motherfucker still finds a way to haunt me. It’s pathetic” You scoffed. 

“No, it's human. Jah, he is your father-”

“Was. That bitch ass motherfucker ain’t shit to me now” You seethed. 

Davis sighed, “Either way, who said you was gonna end up like him. You plan on signing those papers and ditching your child? That ain’t you.”

You looked down at your hands, finding them more interesting. 

“Look, all those feelings you feeling right now…is that how you want your child to feel about you when they grow up. That you ain’t nothing but a bitch ass motherfucker?” Davis questioned. 

You took in your best friend’s words. “Look I know this whole situation is unconventional but you have to own up to it. You and I both know for a fact that you don’t want to sign these papers. You want to be in your child’s life. So stop being a fucking idiot, rip up those papers, and apologize to Jenna.”

Suddenly, the alarm on Davis’ phone starts to blare. You checked the time and saw that it was almost 3 o’clock now. 

“I have to get some rest for tomorrow. But on some real shit Jah, really think about what you want” Davis added before disappearing inside your apartment. 

Once again, you were left alone on the fire escape with nothing but your thoughts and the occasional crackhead shouts. You looked down at the papers again before shoving them back into the envelope and heading inside for the night.

🤰🏻🩵

The next morning, you were up and ready. You only got like an hour of sleep but that hour of sleep gave you a mindset. You texted the number on the business card and finesse your way to getting information about where Jenna was going to be today. She had a fitting for her Met Gala dress at the moment at a studio Downtown, so that’s where you were. You parked your car and paid the meter before heading inside the studio where she would be.

(your outfit for today ^ )

You texted the number that you were downstairs with the papers. After waiting for about ten minutes, you expected to see Nancy but Hudson came downstairs. 

“Jahazel or whatever you name is…” Hudson greeted with no emotion. He held his hand out, waiting for the papers but you never put them in his hands.

“Firstly it’s Jahaziel and secondly, I know I’m probably the last person she wants to see right now and I don’t want to mess up anything she’s doing right now. But can I talk to her please?” You pleaded.

“Absolutely not. Not after what you said to her yesterday, I’m not letting a hoodlum like you step near her again. You ruined enough for her already” Hudson hissed. 

“Who you calling a hoodlum skinny Fred Jones” You questioned offended. Hudson attempted to grab the papers from your hand but you moved them away. The move made his whole face start to turn red from anger. 

“Give me the papers before I call the cops on you” Hudson threatened.

“Call the fucking cops pussy” You snapped and stepped towards him. Before either of you can lay a hand on one another, a brolic man stepped in between y’all. You recognized that it was Big L and he was pulling you away from Hudson while another security guard stood next to him.

“I need you to calm down” Big L’s rough voice ordered. 

“Alright, alright I’m calm” You grumbled and pulled your arm from him.

“Listen, meet in the back alley in ten minutes” Big L instructed in a tone that only you and him can hear.

“Big L…my man you attractive and all but I don’t swing that way” You joked.

Big L rolled his eyes, “I’ll take you to see Jenna.”

“Oh, that makes more sense. I thought you were about to suggest something to me” You lightly chuckled. 

Big L just looked at you with a neutral expression before walking away toward Hudson.

“Damn not even a little giggle?” You pouted as you left the building. 

You waited in your car for ten minutes before going into the back alley like Big L said. He was waiting for you at the door and motioned for you to speed up. He then took you through various rooms and floors. By the 10th floor, your legs were jelly.

“Aye yo, Black Panther why didn’t we take the elevators? I’m not that fit like you. I’m skinny fit I was born with abs I didn’t work for these like you did” You complained out of breath.

“Because Hudson told every guard in the building to have you arrested for trespassing if they spot you” Big L answered.

“Is it really that serious though, you would think I be fucking aggressively stalking Jenna” You huffed and walked up another flight of stairs.

“Hudson has always been overprotective of Jenna, ever since he started working for her last year” Big L commented.

“Overprotective? For what reason?” You asked.

“Don’t know. I don’t get paid to ask unnecessary questions” Big L replied. 

You hummed in response and walked up another two flights of stairs before Big L opened the door to the 13th floor. Big L checked to make sure no guard was in the vicinity before he motioned you to follow him. You felt like you were on a James Bond stealth mission, it was exciting. He took you to the last door on the floor before knocking. 

“Ms. Ortega, Nancy will like to come in” Big L said.

“Okay, send her in” Jenna spoke after a moment. 

That was your queue to enter the room. You closed the door behind me and took in that you were in an open floor room with racks of clothes against the windows. It smelt expensive as fuck in the room.

“What are you doing here?” Jenna’s voice brought you back to reality. She was standing in front of you with a familiar flannel on. It was buttoned to cover her chest area but unbuttoned around her stomach area. Through a tiny gap, you can see her belly protruding a little.

“I…uh wanted to talk to you” You spoke. 

Jenna scoffed, “I think you spoke enough last night.” She walked away from you and into a different room.

“Wait, look I apologize for the way I reacted last night. It’s sincere too cause people from New York don’t apologize” You stated. 

“If you came here to be a comedian, you can go Jahaziel” Jenna grumbled. 

You sighed, you have to be serious. You can see that she’s stressed and not in the mood for jokes so you had to be serious. You walked up behind her and grabbed her shoulders. At first, she shrugged you off but you placed your hands there again and more firm. You turned her around to face you.

“Real shit, I’m sorry Jenna. For everything last night, you didn’t deserve me talking to you like that. Truth be told, I was mad scared when you told me that you are pregnant. My father up and left my family when I was 15 and it left some deep wounds in me. When I was younger I aspired to grow up, get married, have a family, and have a love like my Ma and Father did but then he left without saying a word and it tainted that aspiration. I got scared because I didn’t want to be like him” You explained to the shorter girl. 

“You could have told me that. I would've understood completely” Jenna mumbled.

“I know and I should’ve but I’m not really good at explaining my feelings.” You responded. 

Jenna glanced at the envelope in your hand, “I’m guessing you made your decision.”

“Yeah, I did” You replied and ripped the envelope in half. Jenna gave you a surprised look. “Look, me and you made this baby together even though we ain’t in a relationship…yet. I don’t want to be like my father. I also don’t want you to do this by yourself. Our baby, our responsibility. I’m with you to the end Hollywood” You smiled and stuck your hand out.

She looked down and chuckled before shaking your hand. The two of you looked into each other’s eyes and never stopped. The room felt hotter and your hand was still holding hers. Suddenly, Jenna took your hand and placed it on her small belly. 

“Til the end NYC” Jenna smiled.

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @raven-ss @fanboy7794 @morganismspam23

[simaddix]

*Pay Attention - Part 2 - Tutorial*

I was about to go back to my business and quietly leave y'all with a word of wisdom but the very next package I opened raised my hackles. So here we go, hold on to your seat.

Disclaimer for younger/sweeter - followers - this has language in it because I'm pissed... I apologize in advance.

49,282 Polycounts. That's 50K for a fucking basket!!!

It's pretty, it's beautiful, and I downloaded it because it's everything you could want out of a basket of lemons... whoever created it did an outstanding job... for a movie production.

NOT PC GAMES.

So let's fix it - and let's hold our creators and converters to a higher standard or send them along to a different platform where they can create without our bitching.

First off, there's 3 or 4 ways you can check polycounts.

1 - TSRW under Mesh tab

2 - S3PE (Pretty sure you have to have an addon to do this - I'll try to find it when I'm done and add the link) Under MLOD, right click and go down to Preview. It'll open up a window and you can view the model and the polycount.

3 - 3D Viewer on your computer

4 - Blender or Milkshape

Now that we have the ability to check our polycount - we're gonna fix this mesh. I'm not going to show you how to package it, there are other tutorials for that part, but this is VITAL to having a healthy game, and honestly, being a creator or converter for this game. I do understand that you have to have the knowledge before you can fix a problem, so here it is - literally handed to you in a basket. I also understand that there are creators/converters who don't post polycounts because they're afraid people won't download it - that is inexcusable. If that's the case then you will eventually be boycotted by the players who know better.

Alright, so step one - you're going to want to get into blender after exporting your mesh. You're going open the modifier properties and add a decimate modifier (the wrench circled in red, and the add modifier drop down menu).

Keep it in Collapse, not un-subdivide. It's gentler on the mesh itself and you'll get a lot farther with it. You're also going to want your UV map to match what you're doing with your mesh, in case you need it for selection (I'll explain that in a minute) and have faces tagged so the selection is easier.

Now that you have that set up, you're gonna want to remove unnecessary vertices. See the shadows on the bottom of the basket? Here's how to fix that - hit tab, press A to select everything, and then go to MESH/MERGE/BY DISTANCE. This removed 16,900 loose vertices that didn't need to be there.

Go back to your modifiers and add an edge split modifier and hit apply.

Boom - no shadows.

Now that that is all done you're going to go in to edit mode (tab) and press L while hovering over what you're wanting to select. This is going to select all of the islands in your UV, and it's the fastest way (that I've found) to quickly select pieces of your mesh.

When you have your whole group selected (you can also figure out at this point what pieces need alternate textures or groups for TSRW later in your packaging process) you're going to hit P-Selection. That's gonna split whatever you have selected into a separate group.

Now, you can do that to however many pieces you see fit, but for this I'm just gonna stick with two - the lemons and the basket itself. You're going to click the blue Ratio box - and type in .5 and hit enter. That will collapse your polycount in half - (you can move that ratio box lower if you wish, but this way is the gentlest way possible and I've gotten better results. So play with it and see for yourself if you wish to. ) - Now repeat the process until your mesh starts to lose quality, I tend to stop there unless I can push it a bit further without making it look bad.

Now repeat that process with all groups.

Given that this particular mesh was such high polycount and an intricate mesh, I could only manage to get it from 49,282 faces (polys) down to 18,860. This is absolutely not okay for TS3 - and I'm using as a lesson rather than using something that I can get down to an okay level - because this is what you're going to run into when getting meshes that start in the tens of thousands of polys. THIS IS NOT MEANT FOR TS3, it's beautiful, yes, but you are putting people's equipment at risk by advertising a mesh for a 13 year old game without disclaiming that it's dangerous for it.

This tutorial will absolutely work for most objects, and I've used this process for a couple of years now with success, but you have to be able to decide what you're willing to put into TS3. We have all of these tutorials for reducing lag in this old as dirt game, but NONE of that matters if you're carrying objects like this - no matter how pretty they are.

If you need it that bad, figure out how to make a version of it that CAN look as good as this with a little less detail (think the spirals in the wicker that is actually meshed rather than just textured), or ask a creator to make something for you.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. If I have the time, I try to help whoever comes into my inbox. If I can't help, there is a hoard of creators out there that probably can.

So have fun, CHECK YOUR CONTENT, and keep your computer safe.

And creators/converters - do better.

Edit to add - to the creators/converters who do put out their polycounts, or a disclaimer of high poly/photo use only - thank you. I do understand the need for high poly objects for photo-op purposes, and I'm not here to attack anyone's preferred gaming style. I just want people to be safe while they play, as there are those who don't know what they're putting into their games. Let's help ensure that everyone has a chance to play whether they're experienced creators or regular game-players.

Edit to add 2 -

To add a bit of context - I was able to get the reduced mesh even further by removing some of the intricate details of the mesh, to create a simpler version. This is now down to 5,270 - and it could be lowered even further by removing the top of the handle - which is 1700 by itself because it's spiraled. So when you're dealing with a high mesh object such as this, pay attention to what's really adding weight, and if you can replace/remove it without taking too much away. The shadows can be fixed in gimp as well.

[asha-mage]

WoT Musing: Bits and Bobs from a book nerd

A few unsorted/random thoughts from a book mega nerd about various things in the show-

It's interesting to me that they changed Logain's innate talent from being able to see ta'veren to being able to see when a man can channel or not. This is practically probably because Mat was also in that scene, but I've also noticed that they've dialed back on the use of the term 'ta'veren' as a whole this season. Probably to avoid over cluttering all the concepts their having to introduce.

Elayne's desire to work with her hands/fascination with craftsmanship showing itself in her 'sparker trick' being a weave to make alcohol is very funny and on brand.

The show is continuing to walk out the small shifts in it's dynamics born of re-ordering things in a smart way. Everyone being slightly older was felt sharply in season 1: Mat's mischief and gambling is a whole lot less cute and a whole lot more worrying since he's no longer a teen, Perrin is married (like always intended to be) and settled as the most 'responsible' of the boys, etc. In season 2 Egwene arrived first instead of Elayne, and is the more experienced/knowing Novice, to Elayne's naive newcomer. As a result we get to see the slightly spoiled sweet girl she was before the Tower started to bust down her pride and teach her more about the world. She's a little more unsure, and a little more eager to make friends- both of which work in favor of showing off her strengths as a character, endearing her to both Egwene and the audience.

The choice to give Perrin the ability to see visions of the past with his wolf brother powers is interesting. I get that they need a visual way to express Perrin's wolf senses, and this is probably the most direct, since their's not a non-weird way to visually depict smell, but I hope we at least get a TAR related explanation from Elyas.

I find the use of the Crimson Thorn as a symbol of the Red Ajah and the cruel mercy that they grant to be fascinating. More over, I find Nynaeve's being pulled between the Red and Yellow Ajahs (something I suspect we are going to get more of) to be smartly done: Nynaeve has never been afraid of doing what needs to be done, but that doesn't make it easy, and Liandrin is right: to an extent that their always been a little bit of Red in her, a belief that the world would be better if everyone just followed her rules. And yet it is her compassion that defines her, that fuels her rage most of the time. Compassion for those hurt and sick and dying turns to rage against what caused it: a cruel world or a war or a sickness. Compassion for those she cares most for fuels her rage at those that would threaten, hurt, or control them. She left the Two Rivers to protect the EF5 and that remains her goal all the way to the series's end, her character arc is largely about accepting what that will mean, and learning not to be afraid to claim the power to do that.

I've said this in various other forms but it bares repeating: Lanfear really is winning right out the gate. She's got the hot new hardware LTT as her naive sugar baby, their is no one in sight to threaten her control over him with things like 'morals' and 'duty', and he's slowly succumbing to her influence. More then worth the price of having to run a small business in a slum I'm sure.

That said I want a 50k word fic that is just Lanfear's Adventures in Small Business Ownership. We know those drinks where over priced, but where they watered down? Did she have to pay a mortgage? Deal with uppity suppliers? Was their a Darkfriend Company Discount as Selene's Totally Normal And Not At All Evil Bed and Breakfast?

I have two nitpicks that are so minor they barely warrant discussion, and one is not even the show's fault. The first is that everyone keeps saying things like 'your powers' rather then 'strength in the power'. Jordan goes to so much trouble to make the point that people and objects don't have the power, they use it and strong in the power, and then Sanderson changed it to 'my powers' and 'how powerful he is' and *gargles*. This is like the peaches all over again.

The second is that as much as they nail the arches scene/ceremony, I wish they had gone the final mile and said 'Be steadfast'. It wasn't necessary exactly, but it's exclusion made me whisper under my breath, like a rhyme I just HAD to finish.

(This is completely normal and sane person behavior, stop looking at me like that internet stranger).

I don't have to much to say about Mat's story line beyond being VERY interested in where they are going tying him and Min together. I still needs to get off the ground for me to have more Thoughts.

Adeleas being Cringefail re: Lan is so funny to me in ways I can't quite explain.

I reiterate the point that since Rand's can't be Warder trained, giving him an old veteran blade master who is suffering from PTSD/Dementia was a VERY smart move that fits the feel of the books.

RIP Joshua's soft boy curls. You where a casualty of this war.

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #43 | 7.30.24 ๋࣭⭑

tis the season of crescence x fenir

It's peak hot girl summer time. Not sure how many of you saw the sunburnt art trend going around on twitter, but of course I had to take part in it with the other hot girl in the Alaris cast, Druk.

look at those 34DD's

I drew this early this month, but I am still thinking about it. Let us take a moment to appreciate this gift together.

Alright, now that that's out of the way, let's get into the devlog!

I've been jumping around a lot between different routes this month, but it's been fun since I definitely enjoy the polishing/editing part of writing more than the drafting part. This past month, I got my hands into Fenir, Druk, Etza, and Kuna'a's routes LMAO.

For Fenir's route, I actually have bittersweet, but exciting news! OG Alaris followers may remember I had Vi (of @nextinline-if fame) helping me with line editing. She did an amazing job with Kayn's route, but unfortunately she isn't able to continue working on Alaris due to personal/professional obligations. I, of course, support her and wish her all the best in all her future conquests and am super grateful to have gotten the chance to work with someone as talented and kind as her <3

Stepping in to help is close friend, Allie Vera! Allie helped me with intertwine, and hails from besties' Lost in Limbo and Blooming Panic fame (amongst many other cracked VNs). I'm very excited to get to work with Allie again, and they are already knocking it out of the park with Fenir edits! Everyone please welcome Allie to the Alaris team ^^

On my end, I've been doing my own line editing for Fenir and Druk's routes now that I'm able to revisit the scripts with fresh eyes. As usual, Etza developmental edits continue forward, and we're getting into the last stretch. We've added in a lot of cute moments and really fleshed out the romance more so Etza's romantic side can shine <3

With Kuna'a's route, I'm doing the same-old, same-old. Fleshing out scenes, ironing out plot details, etc. Because I was bouncing between so many routes this month, I didn't have as much time to sit down and really Write Kuna'a's route. But I will say I'm already pretty happy with the script. I've added a couple more emotional beats and, in general, have been connecting plot points that already make the route feel stronger, so I'm excited for you all to eventually see it!

My little notion word tracker showing word goals (left), actual word count (center), and words left to write (right)

In the last bit of exciting news for writing, we are approaching an exciting milestone!!! I told you all when we started Kuna'a's route, we had approximately 100k left so were finally getting into the "double digits". Well, now we are approaching the last 50k!!!! All of the routes are ~50k, so 50k is my benchmark for one whole route. It's exciting to see that we are getting to the last bit AUUGGHHH

As you can see, the writing front was pretty busy this month. Because of that, I wasn't able to make much headway on art. I do have this sneak peek of a Druk CG, as I try to make progress on his beta!

licks him

Final count for CGs right now is 20, though! Out of an estimated 54. So we're slowly approaching the halfway point, which is super exciting \o/ And this doesn't include the handful of CGs I already have sketched up and just need to be rendered (sketching is the most time-consuming part for me, so once a sketch is finished, the CG is basically done in my eyes LMFALSIDJ).

Finally, this past month we've been working on Fenir's beta testing!! It was his birthday month this past month, so happy birthday to our little grumpy guy <3

Birthday piece gifted by Extremely Talented @endys that I still cry over. If you haven't played Snow White Ashes....... WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??

Beta testing has been going well. Here's a couple of gems from feedback so far:

giggles like a madwoman

he's like a little kitten in a wet cardboard box all alone

Kayn, looking at Fenir: I want that twink Obliterated... so cute.

If you'd like to try out his beta, sign up for Hydra on my Patreon!

The beta will be running a while longer as I make progress on Druk's beta. The time span between Kayn and Fenir's beta was about a month, but honestly trying to get the beta out in that amount of time while balancing the rest of dev kinda killed me. So Fenir's beta will be running for a bit longer than a month. I'll let you all know when Druk's beta will go up so that you can hop in on Fenir's before it ends if you want. But just remember, each beta route only runs for that period of time, so get access to it while you can!

For market research this month, I played a couple of games but unfortunately haven't really had time in the way of fanart <\3 I'd like to get back into doing that since I feel like it helps me with art progress in general, so we'll see ;(

I do want to highlight a game that just dropped its demo this month and is currently running its Kickstarter! I'm sure many of you have heard/seen Save the Villainess on your timeline, and I hope you all check out the demo!! The art is stunning, as many people have said, and the premise is super interesting, inspired by many villainess manhuas.

If you're into darker stories, meta-commentary, and murder mysteries, please consider checking out and supporting the devs (@bestlaidplansproductions) as they've worked incredibly hard on this game!

As you can see, a lot of this month was spent on writing. With where the routes are at right now, I'm thinking I'll be able to focus more solely on Kuna'a's route this upcoming month and finally get that knocked out of the park. I also hope to make progress on the CG front! Wish me luck there... LOL.

That's all for this month! Hope you're all doing well (and surviving the many heat waves hitting the world), and I'll see you all next month <3

[eirikrjs]

UPDATE 9/2/23

Wow, it's almost fall and I'm still kickin', so here's a proper update about what's been going on with me. I do feel great most days, and with Halloween in season around the US, it makes me very happy. As far as stroke recovery goes, my leg has a newly made brace and my walking in general has greatly improved the past few months. I really don't roll my left foot anymore, in other words, my foot can go flat instead of landing on the ankle and possibly causing injury.

My arm is still mostly nothing but a couple weeks back I was able to move my shoulder again so there's hope. I also got a home electrical stimulation device so I give my arm and hand a jolt for an hour everyday. With time, I feel confident i'll recover.

A great help with my recovery has been the amazing @dagdasgoddess , a fellow young stroke survivor who has been watching out for me and offering encouragement every day for a couple months now, exactly when I needed it. Mentally, stroke recovery is pretty damn tough but most days I feel positive about it, with great thanks to her.

And now on to some business. Shortly before my stroke I was planning on celebrating the 10th anniversary of my blog (which would have been in December of last year, but I was still in the hospital, obviously...) And one of the things I was going to do was photograph and review all the smt demon figures I have, using my special diorama table. I got around to starting the project a couple weeks before the stroke, naturally starting with the Leonard figure. Here's one of the pics:

I also made something of an anniversary banner, just because, I guess:

I also want to talk about some milestones reached, starting with some follower counts. By December last year I finally surpassed 2k followers, so thank you so very much. This is after Kanekos Crib Notes quickly dwarfed my own blog followers shortly after its establishment in like 2014. But now my own blog is even ahead of kcn, as undoubtedly its current annual schedule limits its growth and reach. (But hey, it's almost October, aka KCN MONTH)

The last milestone is above: my Stealing Knowledge blogger has reached half a million views! Unbelievable, thanks for reading and sharing over the years! Identity crisis part 3 remains the most viewed, with over 50k on its own.

Finally, I want to talk about the future. Another 10th anniversary plan was to try and monetize the blog somehow, probably via a Patreon for new articles and such and many other ideas, maybe even doing YouTube videos to answer asks instead of them being all text. I have lots of other ideas too, but they'll have to wait until my arm works again. So instead of monetizing the future, for now I'm just going to ask y'all kindly to chip in for the blog's past. I'm amazed at how much activity the blog still generates from--let's call it "legacy content".

To that end, I have set myself up a kofi account where you can show your appreciation for that "legacy", kuwabara, kuwabara, if you'd like. All money earned will go towards paying down bills accrued during my recovery, like my hyperbaric treatments. In perfect honesty, it's been around 3000 US dollars so far. Don't feel obligated to contribute and thank you all for still sticking around with me despite my relative inactivity. And if course, continue keeping @sorenblr busy if you wish.

I would also not expect my own recovery before next year, that's just stroke for you. Thank you all!!!!!

p.s. I was featured as a stroke survivor again on another therapy facebook post:

[strangebiology]

Myths about Traditional Publishing

Now that I'm in the book-writing world I see a LOT of anti-trad publishing posts. They usually have some nonsense in them so I'm going to address these myths/misrepresentations.

I’m NOT trying to say everyone should trad publish. In fact, I actually suggest people without significant writing experience not write a book at all until they get experience. You asked. If you want to write something faster without any editors and you're okay with doing a lot more work per sale, or if you haven't published anything shorter than a book, I DO recommend self-publishing to you (or, re-thinking why you want to write a book.) Just make sure you’re making your choice without influence from misinfo! 

🚫 “Traditional Publishing means less money because your royalty is less!”

✅Your royalty is less but every one of these anti-trad posts misses the very important financial reality that traditional publishers sell your book widely, meaning more sales without work on your end, and more importantly: the ADVANCE! Yes, trad writers get money before a single book sells! On average most traditionally published books make WAY more than self, even though there are very rare stories of financial success among the portion of self-published authors who are very talented and hard-working.

🚫 “The advance doesn’t count because you have to pay it back!”

✅BS. Money DOES NOT flow from the writer to the publisher in trad pub. Not even if you sell zero books. As the royalties come in, they initially start flowing to refill the advance that the publisher lost, and they go to the writer once that is refilled. The writer is happy because they already have their advance, which has already gone to paying off their debts or into an index fund or the downpayment on a house so they don’t have to throw away money renting, so they’re in a much better financial situation than with no advance. There is no downside to getting guaranteed money earlier. 

The only way you’d have to pay it back is like any job: if I pay you to fix my roof and you don’t do it, the contract is broken and I am legally entitled to my money back. Hopefully, you already knew that. 

🚫 “The advance doesn’t count because you get it in installments and you have to pay some to your agent and taxes exist!” 

✅The second part of that is true, but so what? With a $50k advance and an agent, you keep $42,500 minus taxes. That’s $21,250 on signing and $21,250 on completion. (And yes, there are different installment patterns, different advances etc.) With self-publishing, you get $0 and then $0 forever until your book starts selling. If your advance is small that’s unfortunate but remember self-publishing advances are $0. Zero dollars is much less than $42,500. Zero is less than $1. Self-publishers also go into actual debt to pay for editors, printers, and marketing, so you could easily start with negative money.

🚫 “Traditional publishing sucks because they expect you to do all your own marketing!”

✅Huh? Whatever expectations are happening in the heart of my publisher are none of my business or concern. Marketing on my end is not in my contract and I doubt it’s in the majority of trad contracts. I’ll definitely promote my book as much as I can but I’m sure as heck not going to spend 40 hours a week doing it or getting a degree in marketing unless I'm getting paid. 

However, the publisher employs professional book marketers and they are the ones incentivized to sell the first [insert advance dollar amount] worth of books. 

Also, who do you think markets your self-published book? The Marketing Fairy? 

🚫 “You have to write the whole book first.”

✅Yes with fiction, usually. Unless they trust you because of your track record, and you have a good pitch and part of the book written (like the first three chapters.) With nonfiction, generally, you don't need to have written much of that, maybe one chapter and lots of articles. They might require more if you're writing a memoir, especially if you don't have writing experience. They want to know you can do it.

🚫 “Traditional publishing is just a lottery!”

✅I mean there are elements of luck, what’s in fashion, privilege etc. just like in all fields, especially creative ones. But most of the reason people get trad contracts is hard work, experience, a good concept, proof of successful writing and publishing (including non-books!), caring about what the readers want, etc.  

Most people who I talk to who tried and failed to traditionally publish had no published writing of any sort. Most who succeed at trad publishing had plenty, as well as a lot of expertise in that area. Like, a degree and/or years of experience in that field, not "I listened to a few podcasts on it."

🚫 “Actually a smaller advance is better.”

✅Absolutely not. This is an insidious nonsense rumor akin to “a smaller salary is better” and I wonder if publishers started that rumor to financially abuse their writers or if writers spread it because hate themselves and each other. I’ve heard all the justifications, they make no financial sense, if you hate money give it to me.

The only reason to take a smaller advance would be the same as the reason to take a smaller salary: if the publisher makes up for it with something else that's worth it.

Interestingly, I'm told bigger advances sell out faster, because they attract attention behind the scenes, from reviewers, booksellers, etc.

🚫 “Even an advance of 100k isn't that much when you split it into four payments over 2 years. Better to get regular royalties. Not like $100k is enough to quit your day job.” ✅$100k split into four payments over 2 years is WAY more than the $0 self-publishing gets you before sales. Even $200/month for 40 YEARS is less than 100k, and that's without the time value of money or inflation. And, remember, trad published books get royalties too, the only difference is the first [insert advance here] is GUARANTEED, and after that, fewer dollars per book sold. If you make $100k per book and don't spend too much time per book, that can very easily BE your day job and you CAN certainly quit your other one to pursue that. But no one said anything about assuming selling one $100k is enough for the rest of your life. That would be an absurdly irresponsible mindset. Just because trad publishing doesn't guarantee anything crazy like one book financially supporting you forever, doesn't mean it's worse financially. What a weird, irrelevant straw man.

🚫 “But if you don't sell out your advance, the publisher drops you!"

✅Misleading. First, what is the time frame of this accusation? Your book is not going to sell $50k worth in a week, most likely. Second, what do you mean by "drop?" The publisher does not do anything bad to the author as they are waiting and hoping for sales. They continue to sell and work with the book, they do not yeet it or burn it or un-publish it.

What does happen is your publisher will consider your past success when deciding whether to sign another book contract and how much to give you for your next advance. If your last book sold $100k in a month, but your advance was $101k, then yes, they have lost money so far. But the prospects of your writing are fantastic, and they are likely to sign you again. There is more than one month in their lives.

If your book did not perform well--say it sold $5k in 5 years--then that ONE publishing company isn't going to sign you again. Duh? Then you have like 99,999 other publishing companies to look at. Or you could self-publish. Is that a problem? How are the pro-self-publishing people so scared of self-publishing? Or you could just not write more books, you tried it once, you can decide that's enough, especially if you aren't happy with how it turned out. Don't we all have more than one goal in life? Didn't you want to get into fishing or dancing or insurance sales too?

🚫 “Getting a book contract is my retirement plan!"

✅(I realize most of this post seems pro-trad but yes, we need some reality check.) A trad contract is as good as it does--and as good as the author is. Same with self-publishing. Maybe you could make a lot of money at it, but I ask, what is your experience? How do you know your book is so amazing? You know some of the most financially successful writers still put out TONS of books, right? Because it's a job.

🚫 “Nobody earns a living from this."

✅Well. No, some people do earn livings from book writing, at least temporarily. A single book isn't going to sustain you forever, like I said, but it could potentially sustain you for the time it takes to write it, and even longer maybe, if you and your publisher are good enough. The next year will pass whether you're working on a book or you're working in insurance sales or at Starbucks; so you must consider your values, skills, opportunity cost, the money you get from each, and whatever else matters to you when deciding which to do. You can pitch a publisher and say "no, that's not enough money" when they offer you a contract, if you want.

At the end of the day, trad publishing is a business. No publishing company owes you anything except what is in the contract they signed. Not working with the same place twice isn't going to kill you. Getting rejected is part of the game--you didn't get into every college you applied to, did you? You don't get every award or every job you apply to, you don't cry when you open the Pepsi bottle and it says "try again." But if you don't treat writing like a job, if your publisher sucks, or you think it's a get-rich-quick scheme that requires no skills, craft, or ambition, then you will fail miserably and regret the whole thing.

[copperbadge]

We recently got into a discussion of producing audiobooks for small press, indy, and/or selfpub authors on another post, but we had strayed pretty far from the original post, and @genedoucette very kindly gave permission for me to slice his comment off the end of that post and put it into a new one.

genedoucette

I have been very, very lucky when it comes to audiobooks, so I'm hesitant to offer advice without adding a huge YMMV caveat at the top. For most of my self-published novels, I used ACX and paid a narrator out-of-pocket (rather than 50-50 proceeds split), which just means I'm paying an agreed-upon X dollars per finished hour, prior to making any money off f the audio editon. Every book I did this with paid for itself, sometimes within the first two or three months, sometimes longer. (YMMV: I did a lot of this during what I would call the audiobook bubble, when demand was higher than supply.) I had another novel series--Tandemstar--that I brought to an audiobook company, who brought it to their distributor, who agreed to pay for the production costs of the book and to pay me a (small) advance. To date, the royalties from that series have not made up the cost of the advance, but the good news was that none of the production costs came from my pocket and the advance meant I did make something out of the deal. The rule-of-thumb I always heard was, don't expect books that haven't sold well to sell any better as audiobooks. But my experience, with ACX/Audible, is this: about 50% of my monthly earning come from audio sales. How long is the book in question (word count), and what is the genre? Because it is absolutely possible to get a not-terrible narrator at a not-terrible cost on ACX. If it's a low word count book with a decent sales record, I'd 100% do it. If it's a high word count book with few sales, maybe not.

Thanks so much for this! I am admittedly always suspicious of Amazon writ large, but it's not like I've never partnered with them before, and often for indy authors they're one of a very few games in town.

50% of sales via audio impresses me a lot -- I'm not really in the industry so my sense of scale may be off but my eyebrows went up at that. And looking at ACX, a split-profits model would be appealing. I'm more interested in providing the reader with more options than I am with making royalties, so I don't mind low payout, but I also don't want to exploit a narrator if I can avoid it.

I doubt I'm selling near the level you are, but it's pretty consistent, at least -- for the last literary novel I published in 2021, and for the four genre romances published in the past year-and-change, it's generally 200-250 copies (epub and paperback) in the first 6 months, and about 40 per year after that. None of them are over 100K words -- the first of the romance novels, the one I'd be most likely to have done as an audiobook to trial, is around 50K, and the other books are all between 60K and 90K or so.

There's some fine print I'm not nuts about -- exclusivity to Amazon/Audible/iTunes for example -- but I can see why it's a necessary business model for them. There's not a ton of clarity on cost per hour for a book, but it looks like for a flat fee it starts around $250 per finished hour? So I'd probably be looking at minimum $1K out of pocket, which is probably roughly (I haven't done the math) royalties per book for a full year. It could be fun to give it a swing regardless, although reading the ACX site made me realize I'd actually have to give notes and feedback to a reader which sounds nervewracking.

It looks like the readers for ACX are repped by SAG-AFTRA, which means that for now I have time to consider while the strike is going on. (Obviously not all of them are union but if it's an entertainment format where the union is involved, I don't want to cross the picket.) And the ACX site is pretty comprehensive in terms of figuring out how it all works, so if I did want to source a narrator elsewhere and perhaps not distribute exclusively through ACX, I now have a grounding from which to research other options too.

Sorry, a lot of this is just me thinking aloud, but I truly do appreciate the info and also something to bounce off of in terms of considering it. And I appreciate the opportunity to share it with my readership too, thank you!

[stealingyourbones]

Ask the writer ask game! Tagged by @gremlin-bot

1.) how many works do you have on ao3?

8!

2.) what’s your total ao3 word count?

50k!

3.) what fandoms do you write for?

Primarily DPxDC but I enjoy writing DC and I greatly enjoy writing D&D campaigns!

4.) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Falling in Love (In the Most Literal Sense)

Short DPxDC Prompts

I've Grown a Mouth So Sharp and Cruel (It's All That I Can Give To You)

What the Hell?! (UP FOR ADOPTION)

Dream of a Peaceful Slumber

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I’m simply too busy with my tumblr to respond to people on ao3. If I try to focus on more than one website at a time I’ll lose my mind 😅. I promise I Look at each and every one!

6.) what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending

There’s a sander sides fic i wrote like 8 years ago that had all of the sides get slowly and very brutally murdered one by one in hella graphic detail. I was trying to experiment with descriptors and visuals at that time. Definitely that one. I don’t think it’s on ao3 but it’s somewhere on my old Wattpad account

7.) what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Definitely Falling In Love (In The Most Literal Sense) or an unpublished eldritch smut horror DeadOnMain fic that’s forever staying in WIP hell. Falling In Love first and foremost has an ending, secondly they get along and it’s cute :)

8.) do you get hate on fics?

Not really. I occasionally get questions or criticism on my tumblr but that’s either advice or someone wanting answers and that isn’t hate.

9.) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have tried my hand at smut before. Mostly smutty scenes with kinda sorta fade to black, solely because I’m terrible at painting a mental picture for the reader so it always flows terribly. I’ve written that eldritch DeadOnMain thing as I said previously, and some of Jason’s matches Malone persona OF ideas.

10.) do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one?

Somewhere in my WIPs there is a homestuck AU DPxDC fic where DP kids are the humans and DC folks (primarily the teen titans) are the trolls. Definitely that one.

11.) have you ever had a fic stolen?

No fics but I’ve been sent asks that are word for word one of my prompts. I just delete those and go on with my day. Idk I don’t have a tiktok and someone’s probably imitating me on there with my prompts so possibly????

12.) have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13.) have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes!! I’ve Grown A Mouth So Sharp And Cruel (It’s All That I Can Give To You My Dear) (eventually I’ll get around to working on it I have so much stuff going on like preparing to move and finals creeping up aUGH)

14.) what’s your all time fav ship?

Ooooo It’s a solid tie between Kon/Tim and Dave/Karkat. One is my current favorite and the other is one that’s been my favorite ship for the longest time.

15.) what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

I have a WIP in my files that’s a DPxDC Dash/Danny fic where Dash is a bomb disposal tech and Danny just moved into Gotham. I have the entire outline written and almost a solid chapter done but I heavily doubt I’ll have the motivation to touch it again.

16.) what are your writing strengths?

I don’t think I have any, (I haven’t written a full length fic in so long I can’t really tell 😅) but I’m very good at setting tone. Idk what do y’all think?

17.) writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. 100% dialogue. It always feels clunky and unconversational whenever I read it back. I swear the second I start writing talking I forget how conversations work.

18.) thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

I’d probably throw a simple word here in there of the other language if I’m writing a bilingual speaker or ask a pal to help me with translations because I only know English and I know damn well that friends are better translators than google.

19.) first fandom you wrote for?

Sander Sides! I wrote a solid 500ish prompts for that fandom and like 70k worth of fics. It was what got me into writing and for that I’m so very glad.

20.) Fav fic you’ve ever written?

Definitely my Batman mermaid au. I love it to bits and I’m so proud of the designs and I’m always kinda sad that I’m the only one as enthused about this work as I am. None the less I reread it at least every 3 months and it always makes me smile doing so.

Ooo who to tag… @chromatographic @halfagone @susiron

[theambitiouswoman]

Heyy

Do you have any advice on starting a real estate business as in just buying and renting out property?

Thanks 🤍

Yes!

**For the record, I have personally done a few flips/rehabs. Apart from that, I knew/know most of the realtors in this city and relating companies as I worked with most real estate/mortgage and title companies here when I had an agency.

First you need to be able to learn the market and research comparables. When looking to buy properties there are important factors to consider to make sure you are not paying overprice for a property as well as that the are is on demand, ensuring it will be easier to rent out the property.

The location of the property and its proximity to amenities like schools, shopping centers, grocery stores, transportation etc. Also that the area is safe.

You also want to look for areas that has future development plans, this will raise the value of your property.

If you have worked with investment companies, you will quickly learn that buying a property that is not in the best condition, a rehab property, could be a very smart play. You want to make sure of course to check the comparables and ensure that the property is underpriced compared to the other homes in the area. Once you rehab the property, it could raise or even surpass the value of the other homes in the area.

Any home that you would look into to buy for renting out should have elements that you intend to upgrade on. There are a lot of reasons for this but the most important one is how it raises your price and potential earnings. Redoing a kitchen or a bathroom can immediately raise the value of your home anywhere from 5-50k. A project that will cost you anywhere from 3-10k on average for a standards nice kitchen depending on your area.

Overall you still want to look at the comps to make sure you are getting a fair deal. Calculate the potential annual rent as a percentage of the properties price. This will give you an idea of the return on your investment. Also make sure that the potential rental income exceeds the monthly expenses. If not it does not make sense.

Check the vacancy rates in the area you want to purchase in, if its high there may be a low demand and not a good area to invest in.

Also you want to think about how easy it would be to sell the property if you need to. In demand areas tend to be more liquid.

So important, to understand the landlord/ tenant laws in your state. Including their rights and eviction process etc. Nothing worst than having a horrible tenant and not being legally able to remove them.

There are a lot of rate plans depending on your specific situation and mortgage rates also vary significantly by state. Make sure to get the best deal for you. Some states a first time can give as little as 1-5% down depending if you are a first time/ entrepreneur etc.

Property insurance is another cost factor to consider when working out your numbers as this varies by area.

Managing a few properties on your own is easy, but after a handful, you may want to consider hiring a property management company to handle these things for you.

I would strongly urge you to get a lawyer to draw up renter contracts.

To grow this business what you want to do, and this is a general overview: down payment for house, fix, rent out, refinance, use refinance to purchase another property and have enough to put into upgrades/repairs on the second purchase and repeat.

I can get into taxes on this too if you want.

[sitp-recs]

Hiii!! I was wondering if you knew of any hogwarts era long fics (like 50k onwards). I read survival is a a talent and chaos theory and honestly fell in love with seeing both of the boys grow up and fall in love during their hogwarts years. Thank you sm for everythingyou do!💫

Hi anon! Absolutely, here are my favorite 8th year long fics. Enjoy :)

The July Tree by @oknowkiss (E, 51k)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

Orbit by HenryMercury (E, 52k)

They don't like each other. They're not friends. There's not even a ceasefire of any sort because they're fighting as much as ever—but there's definitely something different about it. An added layer of self-awareness they don't dare identify, but which colours every Scared, Potter? and Do your worst; each You wouldn't dare and Then prove it.

Seeker, Chaser, Keeper by VivacissimoVoce (M, 59k)

Rumor has it that a wealthy investor is starting up a brand new professional Quidditch team and he’s looking for players. Harry and Draco both want to make the team, but there can be only one Seeker. Will competing for the position bring them closer or drive them further apart?

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 66k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks (E, 73k)

Harry felt Malfoy's breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

Inertia by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 83k)

It’s three months after the war. Harry has already mucked up all his plans. Draco is no longer the prince of Slytherin house. And they sure as hell didn’t both mean to go back to Hogwarts at the same time. Cue snarking, long conversations…and unexpected snogging.

Reparo by amalin (E, 84k)

Voldemort's final defeat does not mean Harry Potter's troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 88k)

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Helix by Saras_Girl (E, 93k)

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again.

At Your Service by Faith Wood (E, 95k)

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

The Silent World Within You by Femme and noeon (E, 95k)

Harry only wanted Malfoy for one night, one birthday. It wasn’t meant to be anything more.

Far From the Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop (E, 114k)

Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.

Things Worth Knowing by Femme and noeon (E, 164k)

After the Battle, Harry thinks he's left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco's just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He's hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems.

Mental by sara_holmes (M, 186k)

Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

[strangefable]

i have some strong feelings about nanowrimo. (edit: and i'm putting it all under a readmore now, since I had a lot to say actually.)

i was there in the early years. i was an ML for a few years. i had a very strong community, and many friendships, and even one of the most important romantic relationships of my life, (as well as one of the worst) because of the community i found there. it fueled so much of my creativity while i was in college and in the confusing years afterward. i wrote SO MUCH because of nanowrimo. i found a home among other weird writers.

then baty stepped away. others stepped forward, and i watched year after year, as the entire organization slowly shifted to... something else. something without the heart or purpose or vigor or soul that the was the whole point of the exercise. some were good things, at first. attempts to expand spaces for younger writers. outreach with schools and libraries. and some things were never good. there became more and more focus on SPONSORS and 'prizes' in the form of endless adverts for said sponsors as 'coupons' for their products. some of this was good, actually, i got scrivener because of one of those early deals, and it changed how i wrote significantly for the better. but that was when there was only two or three 'sponsors' involved, and they were very much also indie projects at the time.

then things started getting sketchy with how MLs were treated and community functions were mishandled. then there were rumors and whispers about things being a bit... off in the YWP. and the sponsors were everywhere. tons of them. constantly. the people i'd known forever started to leave in trickles and then in droves. the community was gone. the MLs left were unsupported and struggling to get communication from hq. it was readily apparent that the head office had become a fucking shitshow.

then came the truth about what was going on in YWP. which was horrifying. and yet. they did nothing. tried to sweep it under the rug. pretended it was just a misunderstanding, same old bullshit. and i cried, because i saw what had become of a once wholesome beautiful thing, now marred by greed and people with ill intent and no interest in the craft whatsoever.

and now everyone is talking about this AI touting from them as if it's a shock. a surprise. it's not. this has been the path chosen for years. by people who took over a nonprofit that was never meant to be a large unwieldy organization in the first place. they treated it like a business. they're running it like a corporation. they have been for a while now.

those of us who were there, we know this. we watched it happen, year after year. this isn't a surprise. it is a betrayal, but it's not a surprise. this was never the spirit of nanowrimo, that was lost long, long ago.

the spirit was always the mad, unfettered joy in the act of creating. of shutting out the world, of shutting out all the voices in your own head telling you you couldn't do this, and just. doing it anyway. for the joy of it. for the challenge and love of it. and you can still do that. any damn time you want. with any people you wish to include. you don't need corporate overlords for that.

baty started this whole thing by getting a bunch of friends together, and essentially double-dog daring each other into 'we're each going to write a whole novel in 50k words in this month, and we're gonna cheer each other on as we do it'. and they just did that. at coffee shops and bookstores and each other's dining rooms all over san fransico.

so. like. just do that. fuck whatever those chucklefucks are doing with the name on it. they're not necessary. they never were. just do it. make it your own. that was always the point anyway.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation: Cat-FISHER [19]

A/N: in honor of 50k on Wattpad, LET'S GET ITTTTTT!!!!

----------------

VIOLETVIOLENCE: it's really pathetic that i have to pull you aside like a child to tell you to tone down your shit.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: grow up.

SALLYFʌCɜ: grow up? look who's talking. might i remind you of a verbatim quote by yours truly... "lint licking, cunt flap, cum infested puss bubble of a fucklet"

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i give back what i receive. you can dish but you can't take?

SALLYFʌCɜ: i can take twice as much as i dish.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i'm so sure that you can. fuck off, sal. quit being an asshat.

SALLYFʌCɜ: so now it's asshat? what happened to llcfcipbf? you're losing your creativity. do better, your fall from grace is disappointing even to me

VIOLETVIOLENCE: fuck you.

SALLYFʌCɜ: i'm sure you want to

He's real fucking cheeky. Excited, if you will. What's gotten into him?

Three days ago, while purposefully and pleasurably butchering Sal's character in Dead By Daylight, if anyone would have told me that the bane of my miserable existence and I would have a personal chat box open— I'd have laughed in your face. I'd have gone full Edgar Allan Poe. You would be in a Speed Bump Grave™️. I'd hear your phantom heart beat under my floor boards.

And now, here I am, simultaneously working through the worst shift of the week and having to bitch at Sally Face Fisher via discord DM's.

I don't know what I've done. Maybe it's just my existence, I'm not sure, but he's targeting me. It's horrifically bad. Every message from him, even if he's in the middle of conversing with one of the other of The Faces, has something about me included. And it is always shitty.

I'm not scared of him, how could I ever be? So I opted (more like I was seconds away from punching his scrotum through my phone screen) to reach out to him personally and nicely ask him to stop... okay so that's obviously a lie but I had to threaten and insult him back. It was the only way I'd feel better.

But now I'm stuck with this loaded last message from him and I have no idea how to continue. Because it's a repeat. A repeat of that fated Discord call that threw my entire existence askew for a week. Or four. Maybe I'm still askew.

His necklace isn't under a shoe in the farthest corner of my room for no reason, after all.

Today was supposed to be simple. Not easy because working at the diner is never easy, but simple. Simple fucking worked. And now I have this conversation with Sally hanging over my head when I was actually looking forward to what's meant to come after I finish my shift.

I brought my mask with me today. My plan is to immediately go back to that mask store after my shift and convince the sweet woman who helped me to sign her work, give me her name, a business card— literally anything so I can tell the world who gave me my start. But now I'm anxious enough to plead not guilty by reason of insanity due to not-so negligent or accidental arson. And on top of that, I'm starting to map out an intricately laid out plan for Sal's Speed Bump Grave™️. Today's ordeals have taken my mind by storm and I'm about to bring everyone down with me in this descent toward madness.

I'm just angry. And bothered. And low key wanting to message Sal back with, "Yea, I am. What are you gonna do about it?" But I must stay strong. I must soldier on. I know the repercussions, I've tasted them for myself— felt them burn my lungs to a crisp. I went through what felt like decades of chain smoking in just mere seconds.

And it's all because of—

A chime rings. A chime that came from my phone. It echoes through the diner's break room, startling me so hard that I nearly leap out of my chair. It's like waking up from a dream where you suddenly start falling.

What was that? What just popped up in my notifications?

Unknown: are you a poe fan, by chance?

My kingdom. My entire kingdom for a chance to start making a Speed Bump Grave™️. For myself? For Sal? For the inexplicable human race? I don't even know anymore.

I thought he'd given up on Lexi. So what the hell is this? Why now? Why today? Why right after he finished— flirting? Baiting?— me.

My mind goes blank. Maybe... maybe he's onto me. Maybe he knows. That I'm Lexi. And now he's finally decided to enact his revenge. On today of all days, when I feel so sick with anxiety and paranoia that I could throw up every square inch of my bowels. My feminine rage is so ragey that I wouldn't be shocked if I sprouted a pair of testicles just so I'd have an excuse for whatever bruised masculinity I'm experiencing right now. Sal must be projecting on me all the way from Nockfell.

Never in my entire life have I felt so hopeless, so cornered. Every time I feel this way, I think it can't possibly get any worse.

And yet.

Me: umm, can't say that i am! don't know much about him.. but how are you, sally!

I don't know what's possessed me. In a normal world, I would have blocked him by now. Or better yet, if I wasn't so disgustingly deplorable and had a damn backbone, I'd have texted him a picture of myself and said "Haha, gotcha bitch!"

The sad truth in this way-too-real life scenario is that I don't have a backbone. And I'm too far gone to go back. I can't revert. There's a part of me that still holds onto my first live interaction with Sal. I just can't get the memory of him— smooth, gentle, kind, and likable— out of my head. No matter how hard I try.

One thing I can be proud of is the amount of petty packed into the fact that I never saved his number in my phone.

Unknown: good. perfect, actually. i brought some poe with me today, a story i think you might like

Some kind of doom-ish feeling washes over me. Like a storm cloud forming above my head. Poison seeping into my pores, infesting my blood. I don't like the way he said that. I don't like it at all. It feels a lot like the time some kid threw up all over me in second grade.

I'll never forget the sickening chill that spread through my body as soon as I realized what happened to me in the middle of educational centers in Nockfell Elementary. This situation feels threateningly similar.

Me: oh cool! so i guess you'll be having a chill reading day? wish it was me :,)

Unknown: not quite. but hey, are you working today?

That storm morphs into a hurricane. And there's twin tornadoes in the background, growing closer and closer to make a torrid, lethal combination. I have to take this in stride. Be smart, y/n. Whatever hell may come, handle it accordingly and do not make mistakes.

Me: ah, no! out of town to visit family :) really, crappy, awkward family get together... yikes...

He'll totally buy that right? I didn't overdo it. It was perfect. Overdoing it would have been an entire paragraph about how much I hate my mom. This is good, this is fine. I'm totally not breaking out into a cold sweat with clammy palms to match.

Oh, God. What if he sent someone to spy on Lexi? What if he hired some murderer off the dark web to take care of me and clean up the mess? I wouldn't put it past him. And this scenario isn't even worst case!

Worst case... I don't even want to think about it. I can't.

Unknown: damn, lex... on the day that i'm finally back in la and you're out of town? :(

Oh, thank God I'm a paranoid chicken shit.

Then again, fuck the fuck off. It's worst case scenario, the thing that I didn't even want to think about. The thing I wouldn't allow to cross my mind.

What do I do. What do I do? I leave work— that's the smartest decision. Naturally, this is the place he once went to and, out of boyish fantasies, he'll probably come back here with some expectation that Lexi will miraculously pop up despite her being in like... Iceland or something, whatever it is I manage to come up with in my next text to him. Which—

Unknown: i'm at the diner rn. was hoping we'd get to hang out this time. when do you get home?

Oh, no.

It's a fucking disaster on top of twenty other disasters. This is what a pregnancy scare must feel like. This must be the equivalent to walking into a room full of snotty, sick toddlers. This is dropping an uncut birthday cake.

I think I'm gonna puke.

I look up from my phone and take in the empty break room surrounding me. The off-white, paint-chipping walls are closing in. I have no escape— this is prison. Trapped in my mind's clawed vices with no way out. Except, my mind's fears have transcended into reality. My worst fear has come true and I had no time to prepare for it. The time is nigh. Ruin is, unfortunately, now.

Think, y/n. It's not so bad. I can just leave through the back door and tell my boss I'm sick again. The door is literally to my left.

But to get back to my apartment, I have to cross in front of the diner that's full of windows. Sal is here, meaning he's paying attention to everything in hopes of finding me... even though I told him I'm not here.I just know he's that kind of romantic, if he even qualifies as such.

He'd spot me in a heartbeat and that can't happen because maybe Vi's mask concealed Lexi who was hidden beneath, but he's about damn near fucked Vi. He knows her body better than she does herself— than I do. Fuck, I have so many different personas I can't even remember that they're all me.

Clusterfuck. That's what this is. A massive clusterfuck, all of my doing.

I'm going to have to bite the bullet. That's my only option. And by bite the bullet, I'm going to fight tooth and nail to keep this bit going. I should just admit the truth, but I'm not humble enough for that, apparently.

My chest begins to ache. It's a slow-to-develop pain that only catches my attention when it hurts a little too much. And then the shallow, short breaths follow. And then the phantom feeling of something lodged in my throat, blocking my airways and filling me with dread.

This is a panic attack, one that is long overdue. One that still can't breach the surface quite yet. I need to make sure I'm home free first— I can weep and be dismayed later. Because the harsh truth is, yes this fucking sucks, but it's not going to kill me. It's just hard for me and my body to truly get a grasp on that.

I swallow down the anxiety that's billowing in my body like linens ominously drying outside a house in the middle of nowhere. I take a couple deep breaths, calming the doubt and fear raging within. My limbs shake a little less, my breathing is better controlled, and my chest doesn't hurt half as much. The pain is still there, but this is bearable. I can do this.

I rifle through my cubby which doesn't give me much to work with. I don't have a change of clothes. I have nothing to hide me, not even a hoodie.

"You... good, y/n?"

I whirl around, hope scraping at the insides of my cranium. Fuck yes. Best lobotomy ever.

I could really cry right now because this is a clear sign that I'm not as alone as I think. Even if it feels like I am, even if my dear coworker Ophelia can't really help me out all that much, she can definitely help me in some way.

I don't have to girl boss everything on my own.

"Lia," I start with, breathless as I practically teleport over to her with the quickness of my panicked steps. "Do you have something I can change into? I can't explain right now but... I would really appreciate your help."

Her big doe eyes take me in curiously, one of her perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question. She bats her long lashes, seemingly processing what I've asked of her before giving me an answer.

"Um, I was planning on going out after my shift tonight? Would a dress work?" She grimaces a bit, probably worried that she won't be able to help me out because Ophelia is just like that.

"That would work fine!" I say excitedly, but think better of it, my hopes crumbling a bit. "But I don't want to take your outfit for the night. I can probably come up with something else."

Lia rolls her eyes lightheartedly, placing a hand on my shoulder. I follow the action, noting her long and sharp blood red nails. I gulp, looking back into her pretty ebony eyes. "Y/n, take what you need. You know Mike can drive me back home to get another outfit! We don't live too far away, and we don't need to be in Anaheim until 9 anyway. Do what you need to do-- you know I'm cheering for you, girl."

I grab onto her hand and hold back the intense admiration infecting my soul. I'm giving Ophelia the most visceral care bear stare I can possibly muster up and she notices, giving me a cute little upside down smile.

"You are an angel," I whisper, "And your future husband is too. Power couple of the heavens, really."

Lia giggles and bends her head down, forcing her pin straight black hair to fall into her face, thus accentuating the really eye-catching red money pieces that match her red nails. I aspire to be this woman. "It's not that serious, Ducks," she says, using my dads nickname for me that she overheard a couple months ago. She thought it was precious, so it stuck. "Let's go get you changed, 'kay?"

Change, I do. But I see where she was concerned about me wearing it too. It's for clubbing, cock-tailing, socializing for sure, but... I can make it work. I've got this. It'll be fine. Thank God I am an avid Doc Martens-wearer. Doc's go with absolutely anything.

Lia has taste too, it's a short, little red dress with spaghetti straps that flares out at the ends. It shows a lot of leg, but not much of anything else. I can't imagine how amazing she must look in this.

"You're super sure that you're okay wearing this?" Lia asks, looking over me. "It looks great on you, I'm inclined to tell you to keep it, honestly."

I scrunch up my face. "No, I'm giving it back to you tomorrow," I laugh gently, using my phone camera to try and get an idea of how I look. I can't see much, which is kind of a blessing because I might hate it and be too afraid to brave LA if I end up not liking it.

"I won't argue with you," Lia sighs, patting my back in a reassuring way. "So do you want to talk about what's going on?"

"Um," I murmur, a shiver running down my spine. I almost forgot why I'm having to do this. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been five minutes at most. "It's very hard to explain, but I might have to get you or Mike involved, whoever's hosting today." I can't help but grimace as the words leave me, but it's the unfortunate truth that I'll have to talk to one or both of them. I'm ever so slowly hashing out a plan in my head.

Sal is undoubtedly going to ask about Lexi, and what the hell am I supposed to do whenever someone goes, "Lexi? No Lexi has ever worked here." So I have to bite the bullet, again, and stick around to at least inform Mike or Lia about that part of my major, gargantuan fuck up. That also means there's a good chance that Sal will see me, but he'll likely ignore my presence, and then I can slip away quickly.

"Mike is up front and hosting today," Lia says, frowning at me. She's so pretty, like if Marilyn Monroe was alternative. Goth mommy and whatever. No shame on my part.

The chef's booming voice carries into the break room, Lia's name floating along with it. She winces at the sound, flinching in surprise. She gives me a pitiful look, tilting her head almost as if to apologize for having to do her job. Poor little love, she is.

"Will you be able to talk with Mike?" She asks me, heading for the door.

I nod hesitantly. "Yea, I'll get to him. Thank you so much for all your help, Lia. I really appreciate you." I send her my most genuine smile, one that she returns.

"Anytime, y/n! You look beautiful, by the way. Go knock 'em dead, literally or figuratively!"

And she's gone, but she hyped me up in the gentlest way possible. Bless her dark, lovable heart.

I take a breath-- a deep, fortifying, 'ohfuckohfuck' breath that does nothing to calm my soul, but I try to trick myself into believing that it worked... at least somewhat. Then I move over to my work cubby (because we're all still in primary school according to my boss) and grab my old backpack that I bring every day. It's raunchy at best and holding on by a thread. I kept it from my high school days. It's a plain black Jansport with coffee stains on the bottom and questionable white splats that are front and center for everyone to see. I'm pretty sure it's just crusty white paint that I never bothered to peel off, but I won't correct anyone if they guess something else. What's the fun in that, right?

I open the zippers and dig in, working past a random beanie from winter, pads and tampons, and a makeup bag. All the way at the bottom, buried under my other things for protection, is my mask. I put it on then look down at myself one last time.

The flashy red of the dress I'm wearing does not match the deep violet of my mask but not everything can go right, so I'll take my little loss. Things could be worse-- oh wait, they are. Sal Fisher is outside this room. Whoops, forgot things were already devastatingly bad.

I run my fingers over the forehead of my mask, feeling that ache creep into my chest again. I wish things weren't going this way. I wish I was brave enough to go outside and just keep working. Because I'm undoubtedly going to lose my job after today. I'm backing myself into a corner, even risking my finances because of this guy that I'm too scared to face as my real self. I've reached peak pathetic.

My dad must be disappointed to have such an incompetent daughter. No wonder my mother and I don't speak anymore.

I swallow past the uncertainty, the guilt, and the unadulterated fear gnawing at my soul. Then I follow through with my plan by throwing my backpack onto my shoulder and pushing the back door open despite knowing that this is not worth it. It's not worth it at all.

I circle around the outside of the diner, heart rumbling like an earthquake as the putrid scent of garbage wafts into my nose from the dumpster I'm currently passing in front of. The sounds of cars honking, people laughing and chatting idly.

Los Angeles is the people's place. It hosts all necessary components of life, some more than others. Socialization, food. It's a dopamine powerhouse. But when it's me, when I've been living here for over a year and seeing the same things every single day, it's stripped me of all my feel-good chemicals. Especially right now when LA is only bringing me problems and trouble (Sal Fisher).

This doesn't feel real. I can't believe I'm doing this to myself. I can't quite wrap the fact around my head, that I'm about to be in Sal's general vicinity yet again. I thought I had time.

I turn the corner, coming out onto the sidewalk in front of the diner. I don't stop in my stride, eyeing my apartment building that isn't very far from me. A five minute walk. I'm almost home. Almost free. I just have to get inside the diner, unfortunately inform Mike of the tea, and hopefully dodge Sal. So long as I keep my eyes on the host table, I may not even have to see him. I might just be psyching myself out. Everything's going to be just fine!

My heart is in my throat, my limbs jittering nervously as I push the glass door open and look forward, noting the short line of people waiting for seats. Sal isn't one of them, so I assume he's been seated already.

I walk past the people in line, getting a few looks from them. That'd be the mask's fault.

Mike's looking down at his seating chart on the host table, most likely mapping out where someone could go whenever I stop in front of him, placing a hand on the table to discreetly get his attention.

He looks startled for a moment before tilting his head up, brows scrunched together as if to say 'The audacity!' but then he sees me and his eyes widen a bit. And then I'm not sure what his next expression says.

"What the--" he chokes out, "Shit! It's you? Hold on-- wait-- mind-fuck--"

I lift a finger to my lips, eyes wide as I hope he takes the note to shut up. Adrenaline is starting to spike in my veins and if he draws anymore attention to us, especially since my mask is already drawing enough, I'm going to piss myself right here. And sue him for public embarrassment, or whatever that thing is. Public defecation? No, that's public defamation... anyway.

Michael's mouth snaps closed, but he keeps watching me. I watch him. We just watch each other as I forget absolutely everything I had planned.

I swallow, blinking at my friend and coworker. "Mike," I say quietly. He flinches at the sound of his name. "I need you to do something for me and I am sincerely sorry about this but..."

"Yea, Yea, y/n-- um, what should I call you...?" He cuts himself off viciously, slapping a hand over his mouth. At least he cares.

I lean my forearms across the table, settling my weight against the front to relax myself at least a little bit. I'm so tense. I feel eyes on me. I need to get out of here.

"Don't call me that," I say lightheartedly, puffing out a breath. "Just call me Vi. For now." I lick my dry lips. Mike of all people finding out about my identity as VioletViolence is the very least of my worries. "There's a guy in here. He has blue hair, can't miss him. I'm sure you already know who he is. He's looking for a girl named Lexi and he'll probably ask his waiter about her. Just say that Lexi isn't here today, you don't have to answer anything else about her."

"I'm guessing... you're Lexi?" He winces, leaning forward a bit.

"Wow," I say sarcastically. "How did you figure that out?" I send him a little smile then focus on the task at hand yet again. "Anyway, I need you to be his waiter. Please. I'll take your entire shift on Friday. I will do anything." I tilt my head down, peering up at him through my lashes in an attempt to portray how badly I need this.

Mike's brows bunch together again and he mutters, "Yea, of course. Whatever you need. But it's-- he came in with the rest of The Faces. Do you want me to... entertain them too? Do they know about Lexi?"

The world stops turning. Everything pauses, no one's moving anymore and I feel like I'm going to vomit with fear, burst with excitement, and pass out right here from exhaustion. The plan I had is ruined, and I couldn't be more equally devastated and exhilarated about it. Ash is here. Larry's here, Todd too. What the hell is going on?

I blink, the action bringing me back to the present.

"Hey, is that Lia's dress--"

"The Faces are here?" I cut him off, holding a hand out in pause, trying to drill this information into my head. Trying to make it real so I can come up with a new plan.

Michael watches me like I'm stupid, a rueful expression on his boyish face. "Yes. I already said that they're here. Why are you wearing my girlfriend's dress?"

"Because we're fucking on the side and she came all over my work outfit." I watch as he makes his little offended face, and my tongue prods at my cheek as instant regret slaps me in the face. He's trying to help me, I shouldn't be giving him this attitude. "Sorry," I admit. "You know that's not true. I'm just-- I'm on edge."

"That's okay," he says hesitantly. "You know I'm going to get you back for that, anyway."

I pinch my lips together, accepting yet another minor defeat. "Fair." I shrug. "I was going to go back home and leave you to the wolves but... I'd rather risk myself. Ash is my best friend. You won't have to handle them alone now, so yay!" I give him a cheerful grin that I'm really not feeling. I even throw in jazz hands.

Michael runs his tongue over the surface of his teeth, clearly not looking forward to the fiasco I've dragged him into. "Alright," he settles on, sighing as he looks down at his feet while grabbing another menu. "Let's see how you manage to back yourself further into whatever shitty corner you've created. I'm eager."

"I'm sure," I grind out, knocking down all the fear that overtook me on my way here and replacing it with impenetrable, desperate yearning to find my friends. I finally cast my gaze around the diner, quickly zeroing in on the one head of blue hair in this entire building. They're seated at a booth all the way at the back of the restaurant and next to the bar, the one place that's away from most prying eyes. A request of theirs, I'm sure.

But my next question, now that I know everyone's here, what the hell are The Faces doing in Los Angeles? And why wasn't I told?

Ash didn't say a word to me. Do they not want me around? Maybe they don't like me as much as I thought they did. Maybe Ash would rather hang around with other friends than me. And that would make sense because we never see each other, besides Vegas, of course. But just thinking about it makes pain erupt throughout my entire body, a pang in my heart. Especially while watching the back of Ash's head tip down while Larry laughs in front of her. Sal and Larry, I can see them, but Todd and Ash are facing away from me.

Another deep breath.

"I'm going to head over there," I tell Michael, looking over to him again. He's watching me closely, his expression of pity mimicking Lia's from earlier. The sight makes me a little sick.

"Alright," he says gently. "I'm going to be there to take orders soon. I hope everything goes well. Don't be nervous."

I huff out a humorless laugh. "Are you and Ophelia psychic or something? Or is my face just that readable?"

He shrugs, grinning slightly. "I can't see your face, so I guess we're psychic. I'll be in your dreams tonight."

That makes me laugh. It wasn't forced or fake, it was genuine and I need that right now. I think Mike knows that too.

I start taking quick steps over to where The Faces are, nerves slapping at my insides to make me turn around and forget that I ever saw them. I'm attacking myself with my own mind, and my mind is attacking my body in turn. Mental illness is crazy, right? Death by anxiety and whatnot.

But, you know, I'm already here. My job is in purgatory, I'm five steps away from them and Larry has noticed my movement, his head twisting toward me to see who's growing near.

Poor Larry. When he sees me walking toward them, he shakes his head and rubs his eyes like he doesn't believe what he's seeing. He looks at me again, and that's when his eyes start to widen, when his jaw drops. And he doesn't say word, that open mouth just turns into the brightest smile I think I've ever seen.

Seeing his excitement makes my insides flutter about and I feel a little better about actually going over to them. Imagine I get there and they shoo me away? But I can tell that Larry won't. That look on his face screams barely held back hugs.

I gulp, trying to ignore my major cotton mouth. I need water. Or tequila. Something.

I also don't give my brain even a second to psych myself out. When I reach the table, I simply plop myself down beside Ash and act like it's a normal, every day thing for me to do.

All heads turn to me (Larry's never turned away from me to begin with) and then I hear a quiet, uttered, "Fuck" followed by incessant, eardrum bursting squealing in my ear.

Arms. A lot of arms. A ton of squeezing. Lots of kisses all over my mask and face. And all the love makes me think that my sweet Ash had a good reason for not informing me of her visit.

I struggle, but I throw my arms around Ash too, squeezing every little inch of her that I can get. Her sweet, coconut and strawberry scent overwhelms me and I feel so at peace. So calm. Home. Back in Nockfell. Comfortable.

Her hair is in my face and I know she's crying because my bare shoulders are wet, thanks spaghetti strap dress. I don't care though because I'm seeing Ash again much sooner than I imagined I would. I thought it would take us years to have some time together like we did in Las Vegas. And Ash is so emotional, I feel like she's being ripped apart by the sight of me alone-- that's both adrenaline-inducing and terrifying.

This is a nightmare, but a dream come true at the same time. I'm so glad that I was paranoid enough to force myself to tell Mike about the Lexi situation. Things couldn't be any better.

"Ash, fucking let go, man. It's my turn." Larry's voice is right next to me, and then another pair of hands that envelop my waist whole. I'm then yanked out of my best friends arms and spun around to face Larry who hugs me so tight that I have to stand on my tiptoes.

I shut my eyes, grinning as I reach my arms up his back, hugging him the best way I can as he nuzzles his face against my mask. The smell of cigarette smoke and pine trees lingers on his clothes, yet again overwhelming me with familiarity. The smoke is a more recent addition, but he's always had a unique scent to him that's always reminded me of Christmas in a way.

The scruff on his cheeks scratches against my jaw, his skin is warm, his grip tight. I really miss home... and LA is not home. Home is back with all of my friends. I don't want to stay here anymore. I don't want to be where they aren't.

Larry takes a deep breath into my shoulder, likely bathing in my comfort just like I did with him. Then he backs up, holding me at arms length and I look up with tears welling in my eyes no matter how much I wish they weren't there. I hate crying, especially in front of other people, but I'm just so happy. It's like the anxiety I felt while walking over here never existed.

"What the hell are you doing here, Vi!?" Larry exclaims, dragging his hands up my arms to cup my face in his large palms. "I thought you lived in Connecticut?"

I place my hand on top of his, a spark of what I thought was fantastical anxiety rushing through me at the instant fuck up I've just made. Again. Crap. I forgot that Ash told them I live in Connecticut...

"Uh," Ash voices beside us, her tone taking the form of the smartest kid in class who's about to correct a mistake. Todd-coded. "I said she's from Connecticut, not that she still lives there." Good save, Ash. "Word choice is important, Lar! Pay attention!"

Larry's eyes swing between Ash and I before settling on me, stars dancing in his irises. "Wait, so do you live in LA, then?"

I can't help the excited little grin that's slowly climbing onto my face. It's Larry's turn to squeal as he suddenly realizes.

I look back over to Ash, catching Sal's gaze momentarily before I look over at Todd to wave. He waves back at me, a soft and pleased smile on his thin lips.

"So," I say, letting go of Larry whenever he backs away from me. I sit beside Ash again, leaning against her side as she throws an arm around my shoulders. "Why are you guys here?"

Ash hisses, frowning suddenly. I frown back, wary of her reaction. "Crap!" she exclaims, rolling her eyes. "Well, I was going to surprise you and the guys. But I guess you ended up surprising us instead..."

"Oh, so it's not just y/n that we're visiting while we're here? You knew Vi would be here too?" Todd asks, chewing on his bottom lip contemplatively.

Another spark of nervousness. They're here for... fuck, all three sides of me are expected in this situation. This... maybe was not really worth it. I'm erasing all the sides of my corner. Everything's starting to get really small and very tight.

Ash side-eyes me, a discreet little look before she answers Todd. "Yea, but I'm not quite sure where she is in LA. I'm going to have to call her later to get some updates on her whereabouts."

"I could just call her now. I'm super excited to see her, I'm sure she'd love to meet Vi too-- oh, and to tell her why we're here!" Larry says, excitement making him shimmy around in his seat as he pulls out his phone.

My body reacts instantly, tensing up like a cat in shock. Ash jumps too, nearly leaping over the table to stop Larry. "No! She's working!" She yells. It's so loud that you'd think she's trying to flip Larry's phone away from him with sound waves alone. True Stranger Things style.

"Oh...kay..." Larry trails off, pulling his phone closer to him so that Ash can't reach. "It's not that serious. I'll call her later, then. What's your deal?"

I swallow. Her reaction was really too much, but at least she's trying to cover for me. I would've sat there and let Larry call while my phone went off in my pocket.

Ash clears her throat, sitting back now that she threw the scenario into the trash. It was rocky, but her deflection was successful. "I know, just don't bother my girl while she's making money," she says matter-of-factly, holding her head high.

I note the way Sal shakes his head across the table. I haven't acknowledged his presence, nor has he acknowledged mine. It's awkward for the most part, but I think that awkwardness is only stemming from me. He seems to be perfectly in control with his short sleeved, black Iron Maiden shirt that shows off his tatted arms. I guess the LA summer heat was too much for him to wear a hoodie for once.

His electric eyes meet mine, no emotion in the endless depths of his irises. Like he couldn't care less that I'm here, which sounds a lot like him. And still, I fidget in my seat under his gaze. Can't help myself.

The edges of his dagger tattoo peek out from behind his hair, the shape of his Adam's apple clear due to the sun shining in through the window, casting shadows in all the right places. Necklaces are around his neck, some kind of silver chain and and old, really intricate cross necklace hanging right below it. And then his hand comes into view, the one that folded into a fist as a result of my touch just weeks ago in this exact restaurant.

There's something different though as he moves to grab onto the drink in front of him, dragging it closer.

The bottom of his prosthetic lifts as he sips from his straw, but that's when I notice what's different. It's a new tattoo-- Saniderm wrapped around his hand. It looks like... a skeleton hand tattooed onto his own. It's pretty sick and I'm so tired of him having great taste in art. Damn. Now I have a terrible excuse to stare at him some more when I shouldn't look anywhere near him at all.

On the other hand, have I ever mentioned how much of a blessing Michael is?

"Hi, everyone," his cheerful voice effectively distracts me from ogling Sal. I look over to my friend, noting his pink cheeks. Huh. "I'll be taking over as your waiter tonight. Your waitress had to leave," he glances at me as if to tell me that I made a good call by stepping out when I did. That's exactly the moment I realize that we're sitting in my section of the diner. Talk about a close call.

Okay, I should get the hard part over for him right? To thank him. I've got this. "Oh, hey, Mike!" I say, "Long time no see."

Poor Mike looks at me like a deer caught in headlights. "Hey... Vi..." he says quietly. Oh, Michael, please don't crap out on me now... I'm going to have to buy this man a cake for carrying me like this.

I smile at him awkwardly, trying to bypass this horrible excuse of an excuse that he and I are about to do horrible improv for. "So, how's Lexi?" I don't dare look a Sal whenever I say the name, but I do feel a shift in the energy at the table. "It's been weeks since I last saw you guys."

"Lexi doesn't work here anymore," Michael spits out nervously, sweat beginning to build on his forehead. Oh no, don't fucking fumble the bag, Mike!

I give him a look. One that has so many emotions and so many questions, but I just force out a simple, "What?" because what else do I say to that? Things are already beginning to go terribly. But it's okay. I'm a pathological liar at this point, and a catfisher? Maybe? Ha... Cat-FISHER.

I'm going to have a panic attack.

Michael pinches his lips together, red-faced as he glances at Sal. I turn my gaze to Sal too, noticing the way he's eyeing Mike like a hawk.

"Lexi is my girlfriend and she doesn't work here anymore." Michael says, his tone brave and assertive, but his facial expression says an entirely different thing.

Great heavens. Okay, so he's radically screwing everything up but that's okay— I'm a flexible person. He's... doing his best. I can work with this. I hope.

I have this image of him and I duking it out in my head. I have him by the collar, shaking him around like a ragdoll while I scream in his face that he's fucking up the plan. And in my mind he's just taking it because he's playing pure sub right now. I'm not even this submissive-- Michael is straight up breaking the BDSM spectrum.

I shove down my nerves and tilt my head at him. "Okay," I start with, slowly, feeling out what little room I have to work with. "I already knew she was your girlfriend," I say, raising my eyebrows even though he can't see. Saying this feels less incriminating for some reason. But I notice Sal snap his head down to the table. I almost feel bad. "But why doesn't she work here anymore?"

Michael looks off to the side, tapping his fingers against the menus in his arms. "Um, she's... she is..." I narrow my eyes at him. He's not even answering the question. I try to communicate with him through eye contact, bellowing at him to not. Fumble. The. Bag.

He gapes at me like a fish, our intense eye contact freaking him out even more. I sigh to myself. He fumbled whatever bag I'm going on about before he even got to our table.

He finally finds his voice after a second and says, "Lexi is working. At a... sperm... bank."

It takes every little inch of my being not to burst into tears. Holy hell. If anything I'm glad he fucked this up because the sperm bank excuse is hilarious no matter how you look at it. Even better is that it's so ridiculous and random that it's going to distract the entire table from the way he's royally screwing up this conversation.

Ash snorts beside me. Larry chokes on his coke. Todd is silent and so is Sal. Maybe the sperm bank thing will officially scare Sal away from Lexi. Yea-- this could work.

"That's a unique job," I struggle to push out, my voice wavering despite trying to forget what Mike just said. But it's hovering in my mind, like old memes from Vine that still make me cackle to this day. I really wish someone would have caught this entire interaction on video.

Michael glances to Sal again. And that's when I turn to find that the bluenette is glaring at my coworker with his arms crossed over his chest, a dangerous glint in his pretty eyes. Wow. That's a scary look, one that he hasn't even pulled out on me yet.

Mike is gaping again, trying to get words to, you know, word. I try to help him by saying, "I hope she likes it there! That's a big deal." But the words don't register in his mind. I can tell by the look of terror on his face, his gaze still glued to Sally.

My friend takes another second to gather himself, and right as a syllable leaves his lips-- one that he used his one working brain cell to come up with-- Sal interrupts him. He took perfect advantage of Mike's vulnerability.

"I'm not sorry for flirting with your girlfriend."

My eyes squeeze shut as butterflies slap at the lining of my intestines. This is ridiculous and I shouldn't feel flattered. I tilt my head down for a moment, trying to gather my wits. I figured out everything for Michael and I, but I didn't take Sal's response into account. I didn't think he'd have a response to begin with. I never would have thought he'd come up with this either.

"We'll, um," I say hoarsely, clearing my throat to regain my voice, but my heart is flitting about with excitement. I wish Sal never would have spoken. I look up at Mike, sending him a dismissive smile. "We'll order in a little bit. I'm still not sure about what I want. Thanks, Mike."

I've never seen someone scurry away so quickly before in my life.

"Is Lexi the chick you were trying to see over here?" Larry asks as soon as Michael's gone. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, watching as Sal glares at his step-brother. Yikes...

"I'm gonna head to the bathroom," I say, scooting out of the booth before anyone can stop me. I need to not be here right now. Ash is quick to stand up behind me, grabbing onto my hand. I turn, fearful that she's going to stop me, but she just smiles and juts her head forward, signaling me to keep walking.

I hope she doesn't ask me about Lexi. You couldn't even beat this information out of my dead body.

Ash and I take a singular step toward the bathroom, only to get stopped by my least favorite customer. I just want to die at this point. The stress is not worth anything. Not at all.

I've said before that many of the men that come into the diner are assholes of the patriarchy, the ones that tell me to stop talking and make them a sandwich, or comment about women's bodies. The shit that ticks me off beyond belief.

This man in particular smells like mildew and three years of straight sleep and bad breath. He's also not a looker, mind you. And then he's an asshole on top of it? I hate when my boss sends me to his table.

Even worse is watching him eye me after calling out to Ash and I with the words, "How much do you charge?"

My eyes narrow and the boys go quiet behind us. We're close enough for them to hear, especially for Ophelia to hear behind the bar.

She glances up at me, cleaning a glass and frowning.

I look back at the man. I never bothered remembering his name. "Excuse me, sir?" I ask, confused. I don't want to converse with this dickface.

"You're dressed like a whore so you gotta be selling yourself right?" he continues, a humorless chuckle following the grubby words.

I open my mouth then snap it shut, heat taking over my body. I'm embarrassed, really insecure about myself now, and pissed off. He thinks he can just say shit like this to anyone? What a pathetic joke.

Usually I can't do anything about this man since I'm the one serving him, but he doesn't know who I am and I'm not working at the moment. I can reign whatever hell that I want.

But I'm also exceptionally tired. Tired of this horrible job and little pay. Tired of holding up some persona that's already beginning to crash around me. Just tired.

"I'd rather look like a supposed whore than look like I just stepped out of the dumpster, sir. Have a day," I say dismissively. I don't have time for him and I've said my piece. If I go on any further, I'll get kicked out anyway and I've already given my coworkers enough trouble today.

'Have a day' is my favorite thing to say to customers who piss me off because they don't know if I forgot the 'good' or purposefully left it out. It's ominous and vaguely threatening.

Ash and I go to the bathroom and we don't stay there long. Neither of us talk. She just waits for me, like she knew I needed space but that I also needed her companionship. Just a moment away from the mess. Silence. Which is so much more than appreciated, I can't even begin to explain how much I adore my best friend.

She watches me wash my hands through the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest and a content smile on her lips. As we start to walk out, she says, "I'm not sure how long you'll be able to keep up the lie about y/n." and she's right. I'm going to face a dead end soon here. "You're obligated to have a sleepover with me tonight so we can come up with a plan, and so you can answer some major questions I have about you right now. My spidey senses are tingling super hard."

Her hand rubs my back and I nod, smiling thankfully at her. Of course she has questions. My entire presence here is questionable right now.

We resurface next to the bar, but looking up at where our booth is shows that it's empty. I'm about to voice my confusion to Ash, but then I notice Lia running around the bar to get to us.

My eyebrows scrunch together as my coworker stops in front of me, eyes on Ash before they focus on me. She mulls over her thoughts for a moment, gaping just like her boyfriend does. Did the boys do something bad?

"We had to... We kicked Sally Face out," is what she says, shocking both me and Ash.

"What?" Ash asks, startled. "What happened?"

Ophelia blinks at Ash, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "He, uh, he walked up to that... that guy at the bar. Kicked his stool out from underneath him. Then he asked me for a drink. Malibu and pineapple."

Ash sighs and I blink at Lia. I don't even know what to think. Did Sal do that for me? And to ask for my favorite drink on top of that...

No. It's impossible. There's no way he would. He just did it for the sake of feminism. That feminism that is nonexistent when it comes to me. Yea, he definitely didn't do that to avenge me. And he was probably just in the mood for alcohol and pineapple juice right? He could never remember the one drink I ever brought up around him. There's no way.

"Sal doesn't even drink all that much," Ash hisses. "What the hell is he doing?" She bites down on her thumb nail, free hand on her hip.

I swallow down all the emotions building up in me. There are so many that I don't even know how to distinguish a single one right now. This is too much. This entire day is too much.

"Okay," I whisper to myself. "Thanks, Lia," I say gratefully. "And thank Mike for me, too, please. I'm going to get everyone out of here before-- yea." I nod to myself, but it isn't very reassuring.

Lia grabs my hand. "We didn't call the police because that asshole had it coming, but someone else might have. It's better to go now."

I nod again, taking yet another deep breath before guiding Ash to the front doors of the diner. The boys are standing right outside, no doubt waiting for Ash and I.

I feel very similar to the way I did when Sal ended our shit-uationship. I'm so confused and so hopeless, but hopeful. So pained, but relieved. I don't know how to handle the way I feel. I can't work myself out of this awful situation now because he's here. He's here and his hair is billowing softly in the wind, showing off his tattooed neck. And a cigarette is between his index and middle finger as he looks out at the jam-packed street. And then his boot is stomping out the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

The nail in the coffin is when he bends over to pick up the cigarette butt and throw it into the trashcan right outside the diner. He would be perfect if he wasn't such an emotionless prick.

I want to cry. I want to feel him again. I want to shoot him with a paintball gun one more time. I want to run my fingers over all his tattoos. I want him to shiver in fear and pleasure because of me. I hate him so much that it's become obsessive.

I lick my lips as I come to a top in front of my friends, more notably, right in front of Sal.

He turns away from the trashcan behind him, his shoulder-length hair following his movements. When he notices me, he stops and stares disinterestedly. The action is so forced though that it feels like it's hiding something else. Like he doesn't want me to know what he just did in the diner.

I watch him. My eye contact is a threat, a warning, a question, begging. Everything, I try to show him through my gaze.

And then I nod at him subtly despite myself. Even if it wasn't for me, he put that guy in his place and I think that's something to appreciate. But at the end of the day, he still left me upset and he's an asshole so I can't find it in myself to physically tell him thank you. The nod will do.

I turn my attention to the rest of The Faces. "I can make brunch in my apartment if that works with y'all?"

And that's how I've made another mistake today. That's why The Faces are walking down the streets of Los Angeles, my apartment just two buildings away.

There's so much wrong with this decision I've made. I should have never invited them over. What if dad is home? He shouldn't be-- but still. There's so much that could go wrong.

But the walk is going disturbingly well. Ash and Larry ooh and ahh at the streets of Los Angeles— which are normal to me. But I understand the charm too. I was very fond of LA when I first came here.

We walk into my apartment building, everyone speaking a little quieter as we traipse through Lobby. I don't speak, I just listen. And I take it that Todd and Sal are doing the same.

My apartment building is nothing special. It's boring, it's the lowest end of mainstream you can get. It's like a 90's apartment in Manhattan, but make it modern and LA. To put it short, it's the cheapest Dad and I could find here.

Having The Faces step into my territory feels like a time bomb ticking down the last few seconds. It's scary, and it puts me in a vulnerable position. I don't have much of a choice— I'm the one who thought of this idea. And I feel like I owe it to my friends to make them something to eat after they got kicked out of the diner. Not that it was my fault, but it was my customer's fault. I feel guilty for some unreasonable reason.

There's always risk though, and I run through my list of said risks as we take the elevator to my apartment. Being in someone's living space is daring, considering that family stuff is all around. Photos on the wall, artwork with family name's on them, doctor appointments and reminders on the refrigerator. Everything is risky, risky, risky.

Lucky for me, dad and I still haven't quite settled in yet. It's been a year, but we're also both constantly moving around. Dad is in hotels for weeks on end and I work most days. We unloaded and fixed our necessities, but other than that, our walls are bare and nothing of note is on our refrigerator. I should be fine.

We finally empty out into the hallway that leads to my apartment and I have to swallow down the anxiety rushing through me. Nothing has gone wrong and I can only hope that the last leg of this walk will go well for me. I just want one thing to go right today, just one. That's all I'm asking.

I get to my door, I shakily slide my key into the lock, and I open it and let all my friends in, watching their eyes bounce around the living room. I nearly slam the door shut once everyone is safe and inside.

I got my wish. Thank you to whoever granted me a little bit of peace on this unfortunate day.

"You need to get a new carpet."

It's the second time I've heard him speak today. The raspy, monotonous, alto tone of his makes me pause. He wasn't insulting, the way he said that was just commentary. But his voice alone feels like a declaration of war and all the panic and fear I've been enduring for the past— what? Half hour?— is replaced with some kind of desirous agony. Like I've been waiting for him to just... just speak.

"You have a problem with everything, don't you?" I respond, my voice biting into the stale air of my living room. I should've simply asked why he felt that way, but I have reasons. For example, the shit I've put up with today has me on edge. Another reason is Sal bombarding me on all ends without him even realizing it, then being so tense with all these horrible decisions I'm making. I'm really itching for a fight right now and I know I can get it from him. I can practically feel my eyes dilating with the excitement that's ransacking my body at the mere prospect of an argument.

Sal's head turns over his shoulders, body somewhat rigid. One hand in his pocket, the other with the fresh tattoo resting at his side. His eyes are narrowed, scrutinizing me and no doubt wondering who the hell I think I am.

"There's a giant fucking stain on your black carpet," he snaps, gesturing his tatted hand at the light green splatter that dad fussed me for weeks ago. That time I was watching The Faces' Youtube video and spilled my damn mint chocolate chip ice cream. When this entire thing between Sal and I was started. Because he had to go and judge me without getting to know me first. "Be happy I even mentioned it," he mutters, tone clipped.

"You think I didn't notice?" I laugh humorlessly. I wasn't lying when I said he has a problem with everything. Seriously— he just stepped foot into my home and has something negative to say about it. "And why don't you guess who's fault it is that the carpet is stained, huh?" The words rush past my lips, all hardly held back fury and expectation for the worst.

Sal tilts his head in a way that begs me to try him again, then turns his entire body to me. He shuts his eyes and holds up a hand, pausing before saying, "It surely isn't my fault if that's what you're implying." He even adds a snort at the end.

"Actually," I say cheerily, chin up and head high because it's quite literally all his fault that I dropped my ice cream whenever I heard him talking about me all those weeks ago. "Yea it is. I was sitting right there," I point to the edge of the sofa nearest the stained part of the carpet. "While listening—"

I feel like I've been punched in the stomach, and I did it to myself. Again.

How could I be so stupid? Here I am, openly and happily about to expose my true identity just to make a point. Just to be right. To win. To gain some catharsis from a meaningless argument.

I snap my mouth shut, swallowing over the relentless pounding of my heart. I blink at Sal who's waiting expectantly for me to finish what I was saying. What do I say? How do I save myself?

My palms sweat, my legs quake. Oh, this is so bad. Is this my real downfall? Is this where I break? It's going to happen. I'm going to pass out or have a psychotic break. Maybe I'm going insane— maybe I've been clinically insane for weeks now. At least I could plead not guilty at my murder trial. I've had a lot of murder on my mind today, haven't I?

But there's a knock at the door and bless the heart of whoever is about to punch my door hinges off. Any other situation and I'd be losing my mind over someone knocking so hard, but my savior is behind this hunk of wood.

I let out a shaky breath and tilt my head downwards, pretending like I'm too fed up to continue my argument. It's perfect. The best excuse.

But Sal's eyes burn into me, the scrutinizing, heavy blue trapping me in my own guilt. A narrow waterway hidden behind the confines of his prosthetic, haunting me day and apparently at night too. I find myself stuck, my gaze piercing his and waiting for something that will never come. I don't even know what that something is.

"Never mind," I grunt, spinning on my heels and taking a singular step toward my door.

I twist the knob, relieved by the silence behind me. No one cares enough to ask what that was about. I escaped... somehow.

And then I swing the door open, gaze up at the last person I expected to see, hear a resounding and excited, "Bitch!" and intellectually (smartest decision I've ever made) slam the door back in their face.

Oh no. Oh no, oh fuck.

I forgot.

____________

A/N:::::: 50K is such a dream come true and i really wish i could find more words to explain how excited and whole i feel. when i first started writing at 13, i was also reading on wattpad and fanfiction.com. I saw all these writers getting so many views and comments about their works, and i wondered if that would be me some day. i worked hard for the first couple years of my writing career and my only reader was my lovely sister (thank you amititty) and i realized that i needed to do something different. i started practicing more, and then i got into fanfiction rather than just fiction. and that's when something changed. i'll never forget the day when maybe today got 1k views-- i cried and wept like a baby for HOURS because it meant the entire world to me. little 18 year old ryver had no fucking clue that we'd get this far. that 1k on my trial book would turn into 50k on the next. i'm in tears typing this right now, in disbelief. every single one of you are my reason for writing, for brainstorming, for getting through my day... i consider you guys in everything i do. all the love in this world-- every ounce of affection, of adoration, of admiration-- does not compare to how special all of you are to me. you are all so dear to me, my friends and penpals that keep me going and remind me that the world isn't all bad, that not everyone is bad. so thank you for following me down this road and i hope we can continue like this. i wish we could all stay this way forever! but maybe, just maybe, i'll get to sign published copies of my books for you guys someday. get to follow through on my dream to hug all of you. there's never a way to tell what the future holds, but i believe it's pretty bright. thank you. i love you all with all the working neurons in my brain and numerous blood cells in my body <333

so about this chapter-- i have been looking forward to it since the very first chapter of this story. a lot of things have changed since then, including the chapter, but i still think the contents are a nice surprise and fucking HILARIOUS >.< i just hope you guys like it too! it was kind of hard to get out because i had all these ideas and images and feelings that i desperately needed to portray perfectly, but some things are just unable to be captured by words. my goal was to get as much as i was feeling onto paper (or computer?), so i hope you guys feel all the fear, desperation, and admiration going on! i deleted, retyped, and deleted again so many scenes and parts of this. and jesus christ this is an exceptionally long author's note MY BAD

anyway, as always, you guys own my heart and i love you to infinity and beyond!! i'll link pictures of y/n's red dress and sal's tattoo below <3

p.s. i have an announcement coming soon! nothing big, but i am trying something new so stay turned :3

[suiana]

Read all your yanderes uhh drabbles? And I just had a really funny image in my head of all the S/Os just getting together and having a weekly yandere meeting on what is the worst things the yanderes have done for the week and they try to one up each other 😭😭 and then one comes in and goes like, "I got two y'all." And they all look at them, and goes, "Good for YOU, Clara."

"My guy sent me a box of dismembered fingers today."

"Did he go do it himself or hire someone else?"

"Probably hired. He's literally too busy."

"At least it's dismembered fingers... I got a whole ass heart."

"Ewww."

Especially that drabble of the reader between the dilf and the government official 😭😭🙏

"I had a nice show of tiddies. My husband cooked for me today."

They will all turn to look at her and flip a finger.

I also can't imagine the other yanderes being forced into a weekly gathering and they're all reluctant and annoyed at first till they find out more inspiration on how to deal with their S/Os.

"So, I suggest you just make her become dependent on you, rather than chaining her up. Lead her into a false sense of security, ya? Oh, I also recommend this drug, a gem I found, really good. Also this knife set, it's really sharp and slices through nicely."

"I recommend this camera, it has build in filters and really good for photo taking."

"This brand sells customised shrines, usually for religious purposes of course, but I checked with the owner and I'm sure they won't mind doing orders for... Other certain themes."

"The best way to torture someone, is you first slice the tendon in their ankles and then ###! And after that, do #######!"

"Oh, I also recommed, for a fast kill, just go for the neck. Most vulnerable spot." The assassin pipes in.

They both look at him, and he shrugs, "What? I'm an assassin."

"What's your rates?"

"Starting at 50k, cleans up, no questions asked."

"Deal. Give me your contact." The government official shakes hands with the assassin.

"By the way, what's that shadowy monster over there?"

The monster in question: "..." 웃

HELPP THIS IS SI ENTERTAJNING TO READ ILY ANON U MADE MY DAY

and bro imagine all the non human yans...

yan octoman: "yes! so I just sunk my sweetheart's submarine..."

yan drider: "really? oh well, we have to deal with what we can do. I just used my spider webs and devoured those who were getting in the way-"

yan other bf: "hah! losers. imagine needing to put in so much effort." *proceeds to use magic to trap darling with him*

yan shadow monster: *weird gurgling sounds to indicate boredom*

yan urban legend: "wtf"